The main thing in my head right now is how long should I spend taking a dump? Most of the business is done in the first five minutes, but if I wait for another 10, I am sometimes 'rewarded' for my patience.
Maybe I should take more prune juice or something.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Pride of the X-Men
In the words of Malcolm X:
When will we be free?
[L]istening to leaders like Nasser, Ben Bella, and Nkrumah awakened me to the dangers of racism. I realized racism isn't just a black and white problem. It's brought bloodbaths to about every nation on earth at one time or another.
Brother, remember the time that white college girl came into the restaurant — the one who wanted to help the [Black] Muslims and the whites get together — and I told her there wasn't a ghost of a chance and she went away crying? Well, I've lived to regret that incident. In many parts of the African continent I saw white students helping black people. Something like this kills a lot of argument. I did many things as a [Black] Muslim that I'm sorry for now. I was a zombie then — like all [Black] Muslims — I was hypnotized, pointed in a certain direction and told to march. Well, I guess a man's entitled to make a fool of himself if he's ready to pay the cost. It cost me 12 years.
That was a bad scene, brother. The sickness and madness of those days — I'm glad to be free of them.
When will we be free?
Sejenak Bersama Sasterawan Negara: Bapakku Pulang Dari Kota
Bapakku Pulang Dari Kota
Bapakku pulang dari kota
Bapakku tak belikan kereta
Pasal bapakku takde wang berjuta
Kalau aku tanya lebih,
nanti kena penampar
Pon Pon Pon Pon Pon, Pon Pon, Pon Pon
Kereta halusinasi
Rosak hon lagi
Pasal hanya satu fantasi
Tak boleh ku bawa, main judi
Aku fikir, sudah sampai masa
Aku membeli kereta
Karana pakcik teksi
Semakin racist sekali
Aku sudah tidak sanggup
Melayan orang tua gugup
Yang seakan ada senggugut
Duit haram ingin dikaut
Nak pergi Kinokuniya KLCC
Atau MPH Midvalley
Meternya hampir dua kali
Apa yang biasa aku beri
Kalau aku ada kereta
Aku akan tukar enjinnya
Bukan hanya gunakan petrol semata
Tetapi gas asli atau udara
Aku nak beli Pajero lah.
Bapakku pulang dari kota
Bapakku tak belikan kereta
Pasal bapakku takde wang berjuta
Kalau aku tanya lebih,
nanti kena penampar
Pon Pon Pon Pon Pon, Pon Pon, Pon Pon
Kereta halusinasi
Rosak hon lagi
Pasal hanya satu fantasi
Tak boleh ku bawa, main judi
Aku fikir, sudah sampai masa
Aku membeli kereta
Karana pakcik teksi
Semakin racist sekali
Aku sudah tidak sanggup
Melayan orang tua gugup
Yang seakan ada senggugut
Duit haram ingin dikaut
Nak pergi Kinokuniya KLCC
Atau MPH Midvalley
Meternya hampir dua kali
Apa yang biasa aku beri
Kalau aku ada kereta
Aku akan tukar enjinnya
Bukan hanya gunakan petrol semata
Tetapi gas asli atau udara
Aku nak beli Pajero lah.
Rules of Engagement
I allowed myself to be bothered by the recent spike in racism. I almost feel the need to bring forth my battle spear. I do not want to see that happen.
Okay, toots. Here, I lay down the ground rules. NOT the ground rules for everyone, but ground rules for dealing with me.
1. I am a Malay. I am a Muslim. Maybe not a good one. I may go to hell. I may enjoy some things which are most un-Malay. I may do things which are most un-Malay. But. As long as I claim myself a Malay and a Muslim, I am both.
2. I don't sit down in front of you and detail what I think is so bad and so stupid with your race or your religion, and you do not do not sit down in front of me and detail what you think is so bad and so stupid with my race or my religion.
I mean, I don't go around telling people, "Oh. My. God. Is that YOUR God? It's so...ugly! And why are you allowed to do this and that when your book clearly states you cannot do this or that?"
If you feel the need to 'liberate' me from my beliefs and my DNA, then I would be compelled to 'liberate' you of your beliefs and your DNA. Goes both ways, bra.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Every story has another side to it.
Take it from me. I judge people, and people judge me. That's the way it is.
I am concerned with freedom, even if I do not agree with that freedom. Even if I think it is stupid. It's my business. Not yours.
If Malays and Muslims one day were to decide to shun all technology and live in the Stone Age, it is our choice. Our freedom.
3. Only a nigger can call a nigger, nigger. As such, only a Malay can make fun of ALL Malays. Only a Muslim can make fun of any other Muslim, for their Muslimness.
Same goes to other religions.
Atheists should just shut the fuck up and leave the country, cause the FIRST thing in Rukunegara is 'Kepercayaan kepada Tuhan'. Go believe in Yoda, Xenu or the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Pray to a stone or a rock or something. Have a God. And go crazy with the commandments. Be as fucked up as the rest of us.
Atheists who like to argue should consider doing so with agnostics.
Why?
Cause atheists do not believe in the existence of God. Agnostics DO NOT GIVE A FUCK whether God exists or not.
You think being an atheist is so cool? Go argue with agnostics, who think they're much cooler than atheists.
4. I am right. Everyone else is WRONG. If you're even at the slightest bothered by the previous statement, then you can go fuck yourself.
You are an insecure, pathetic, whiny little bitch on her last tampon. Fuck you.
My actions do not change your world. And neither do yours. You do not matter in the grand scheme of things. No one matters. Everyone will die, so shut the fuck up and die already. Quit wasting my time.
5. I am so fucking cool.
Yeah.
Okay, toots. Here, I lay down the ground rules. NOT the ground rules for everyone, but ground rules for dealing with me.
1. I am a Malay. I am a Muslim. Maybe not a good one. I may go to hell. I may enjoy some things which are most un-Malay. I may do things which are most un-Malay. But. As long as I claim myself a Malay and a Muslim, I am both.
2. I don't sit down in front of you and detail what I think is so bad and so stupid with your race or your religion, and you do not do not sit down in front of me and detail what you think is so bad and so stupid with my race or my religion.
I mean, I don't go around telling people, "Oh. My. God. Is that YOUR God? It's so...ugly! And why are you allowed to do this and that when your book clearly states you cannot do this or that?"
If you feel the need to 'liberate' me from my beliefs and my DNA, then I would be compelled to 'liberate' you of your beliefs and your DNA. Goes both ways, bra.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Every story has another side to it.
Take it from me. I judge people, and people judge me. That's the way it is.
I am concerned with freedom, even if I do not agree with that freedom. Even if I think it is stupid. It's my business. Not yours.
If Malays and Muslims one day were to decide to shun all technology and live in the Stone Age, it is our choice. Our freedom.
3. Only a nigger can call a nigger, nigger. As such, only a Malay can make fun of ALL Malays. Only a Muslim can make fun of any other Muslim, for their Muslimness.
Same goes to other religions.
Atheists should just shut the fuck up and leave the country, cause the FIRST thing in Rukunegara is 'Kepercayaan kepada Tuhan'. Go believe in Yoda, Xenu or the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Pray to a stone or a rock or something. Have a God. And go crazy with the commandments. Be as fucked up as the rest of us.
Atheists who like to argue should consider doing so with agnostics.
Why?
Cause atheists do not believe in the existence of God. Agnostics DO NOT GIVE A FUCK whether God exists or not.
You think being an atheist is so cool? Go argue with agnostics, who think they're much cooler than atheists.
4. I am right. Everyone else is WRONG. If you're even at the slightest bothered by the previous statement, then you can go fuck yourself.
You are an insecure, pathetic, whiny little bitch on her last tampon. Fuck you.
My actions do not change your world. And neither do yours. You do not matter in the grand scheme of things. No one matters. Everyone will die, so shut the fuck up and die already. Quit wasting my time.
5. I am so fucking cool.
Yeah.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Intermission
Today is REALLY a day of rest. I am not doing jack shit. Am so tired, I wish I could die and sleep under the ground.
Last week was full drama, albeit expected and stupid.
People still try to manipulate me. Use me. In subtle ways. In big ways. I did some good. I did some evil. Some still try to stab me.
BOO FUCKING HOO.
Stick it in with the rest of the 'em, IF you can find space.
Some STILL try to push my buttons. Perhaps in a desperate attempt to stay powerful. Thinking he/she is the all-powerful all-dancing, all-singing great shit scientist while others are all his/her lab rats. I dunno.
BIG FUCKING DEAL.
Though I am young, BEEN THERE. DONE THAT. Shove your insecurities and mad desires down some other people's throats.
The only difference was the sudden influx of racism, everywhere. Malaysia, now with MORE racism.
Well, at least we're not killing each other on the streets. Yet.
I'm still judging people. And people still judge me. In fact, they judge me before I judge them. I win! I'm right! They're WRONG! Though I have no morals, I am morally-superior!
But. Why? Why? Whyyyy??? Boo hoo hoo.
Muahahahahahaha!
I go back home every day and listen to Queen, while eating dinner. Scarfing down wings while singing We Are the Champions.
Then, I take a big dump.
Last week was full drama, albeit expected and stupid.
People still try to manipulate me. Use me. In subtle ways. In big ways. I did some good. I did some evil. Some still try to stab me.
BOO FUCKING HOO.
Stick it in with the rest of the 'em, IF you can find space.
Some STILL try to push my buttons. Perhaps in a desperate attempt to stay powerful. Thinking he/she is the all-powerful all-dancing, all-singing great shit scientist while others are all his/her lab rats. I dunno.
BIG FUCKING DEAL.
Though I am young, BEEN THERE. DONE THAT. Shove your insecurities and mad desires down some other people's throats.
The only difference was the sudden influx of racism, everywhere. Malaysia, now with MORE racism.
Well, at least we're not killing each other on the streets. Yet.
I'm still judging people. And people still judge me. In fact, they judge me before I judge them. I win! I'm right! They're WRONG! Though I have no morals, I am morally-superior!
But. Why? Why? Whyyyy??? Boo hoo hoo.
Muahahahahahaha!
I go back home every day and listen to Queen, while eating dinner. Scarfing down wings while singing We Are the Champions.
Then, I take a big dump.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Siri Bercakap Dengan Tin: An Interview with a Dhampire
Amir Hafizi is the greatest man on Earth. His chest is as thick as a redwood trunk, and two boughs of heavily-muscled arms hang from each side, with a minor branch of minor but solid wood somewhere down there.
The Malay Male reporter AMIR HAFIZI had a chance to catch up with the great man and ask a few questions in this bilingual interview.
Amir Hafizi: You smile, but look tired. Rough day?
Amir Hafizi: Same old, same old. But I am a bit tired these days.
Amir: What's up? Your current projects? What can we hope to see in the near future?
AH: Well, a few movies by next year. A book also to be finished sometime in 2009. Or 2010. Am also thinking about setting up the careers of other people. I can see where they can go, and who knows where they'll end up in a couple of decades.
Amir: Wow, so you're like a superhero and shit?
AH: Yep.
Amir: This superhero thing, you often mentioned about it. Is it real?
AH: That I have superpowers? What do you think?
Amir: No, the moralistic side of it.
AH: Well, I think I have Peter Petrelli's power - empathic mimicry - I can imitate anyone's superpower. Given enough time and exposure, of course. So the morality comes with that as well.
Amir: But aren't you like, a moralizing, hypocritical, womanizing bastard with a bulbous dick? Sorry, but since no one is asking the tough questions, I have to do it. I have a superhero complex as well, you see?
AH: Well, a moralizing, hypocritical, womanizing bastard with a bulbous dick? Maybe I am. Who cares? I have learned that I am insignificant enough even to warrant an ISA arrest. That put myself into perspective. I'm basically a nobody. I don't really have an impact on the world.
Amir: So you would like to? Have an impact? On the world?
AH: Not really. That would mean more responsibility. Responsibility weighs down on me like a fat ho. If I matter, I have to make my actions count. With being a nobody, I can do whatever I want. I mean, the stock market is not going to crash if I say 'fuck' to KJ.
Amir: But you have often written yourself as 'the greatest this' or 'the greatest that' and you often make fun of stupid people. Why so judgemental?
AH: Mmm. Truth is, there is no greatest. Muhammad Ali was the greatest, at one time. Then, it was somebody else. And even Ali is not REALLY the greatest. What about Russell Crowe?
Amir: If you don't believe in the greatest, then why claim yourself as such?
AH: The irony.
Amir: The irony?
AH: Yes. The irony. When I first started writing online, I thought of parodying the fact that anyone can be anything on the Internet. So I thought, if that's the case, I might as well be the greatest. In fact, I use irony a lot in my writing. In most articles, I would criticize something and do that exact same thing in the same article. Or say something bad about something, and do that very thing. It's irony.
Amir: Do you think people even get what you're writing, most of the time?
AH: It would be nice to be understood, but I gave up on that a long time ago. I mean, in my brief stint as a journalist, I tried to be as clear as possible. Newsprint costs money, so I was in the business of saving column spaces. To make a point, a thought, as succint and clear as possible.
On the Internet, space is virtually unlimited. I can be as obscure as I want. The rules are different. What works in newspapers do not work on the Internet. What works on the Internet doesn't necessarily work in newspapers.
They are two very different mediums. With different audiences. Sure, content is content, but the forms in which the content is being delivered is different.
That's why writing popular websites doesn't mean you can write properly for a newspaper. And writing for newspapers doesn't make you automatically as equally proficient on the Internet.
Of course, some have done the transition brilliantly. Dr M. Rocky. And all the good people at Murai.com.my.
Amir: Do you really mean what you write?
AH: I sometimes give people too little or too much credit. I thought they would be able to figure out what I wrote on their own. However, I'm taking the Eminem stand on this.
Amir: The 'Eminem stand'?
AH: Yeah. He raps about taking drugs, killing his wife, his mother, fucking Mariah Carey, carrying guns and a lot of other shit. Does that mean he does it in real life? Maybe. Maybe not. You figure it out. God gave you a brain, didn't He?
Amir: Okay, going back to one of your posts, you now claim to be a Muslim. Is this true?
AH: Oh, that. (laughs)
Amir: Yeah, because SOME people are saying that you're a were-Muslim. You're a Buddhist by day, and a Muslim at night. After you're drunk. Is this true?
AH: Who are these people?
Amir: Just people.
AH: Ah. Well, ultimately, it's up to God. You can label me what you want. I can label myself as whatever. But ultimately, God decides. Who cares? I am intrigued by the original Buddhist philosophies. And I declared myself a Muslim AND a Malay because some liberals of my generation, Muslim liberals, are finding it hard to be a Muslim or a Malay without being apologetic about it.
It seems that a lot of people are trying to get the Malays and the Muslims to be ashamed of themselves. I believe that it is neither shameful to be a Malay than it is to be an Eskimo. That Islam is just like any other religion. Like Scientology and Jedi. Why should it be discriminated against?
This is counter-racism, counter-religionism. And I have to say: Terrorists Win! Even though it's usually none of my business.
I say, screw apoligising for what you are. Apologising for being a lesbian? Fuck that. Apoligizing for being a Hindu? Fuck that.
I find that, sometimes, the biggest opponents to something would be the ones who do it themselves. You fight for freedom, you say, while at the same time you want to repress the freedom of others.
If anyone is going to be that hypocritical, then let it be me!
I must add, though, that I do not represent anyone other than myself. And I DO NOT WANT to represent anyone other than myself. That's too much responsibility. I do not want it.
Amir: Long answer.
AH: Yep.
Amir: So, are you worried about public perception?
AH: Well, I used to be so worried about public perception that I didn't do anything. And then, I arrived at a stage in my life where I did not give a fuck and even hated public perception that I did everything against popular sentiments.
Amir: And now?
AH: Nowadays, I have accepted the existence of public perception. If I play against or for public perception, that is giving way too much power over myself to other people. I do not like it, but I do not hate it either. It is just there. It's like a dog. On the streets. I don't like dogs. But I don't hate dogs either. Dogs are just dogs. But I still hate populists, though. People who pander to the audience. Motherfucking backstabbing populist motherfuckers.
Amir: Are you pandering to the audience now?
AH: Maybe. Maybe not. You have a brain. Figure it out. But please don't condemn me to hell? Pretty please? I'm so fucking scared. Oooohhh. Hell. Fuck you.
Amir: So, tell me about the sex...
(The interview has gone on too long and Amir Hafizi is tired and wants to take a 12-hour nap. We will continue this later.)
The Malay Male reporter AMIR HAFIZI had a chance to catch up with the great man and ask a few questions in this bilingual interview.
Amir Hafizi: You smile, but look tired. Rough day?
Amir Hafizi: Same old, same old. But I am a bit tired these days.
Amir: What's up? Your current projects? What can we hope to see in the near future?
AH: Well, a few movies by next year. A book also to be finished sometime in 2009. Or 2010. Am also thinking about setting up the careers of other people. I can see where they can go, and who knows where they'll end up in a couple of decades.
Amir: Wow, so you're like a superhero and shit?
AH: Yep.
Amir: This superhero thing, you often mentioned about it. Is it real?
AH: That I have superpowers? What do you think?
Amir: No, the moralistic side of it.
AH: Well, I think I have Peter Petrelli's power - empathic mimicry - I can imitate anyone's superpower. Given enough time and exposure, of course. So the morality comes with that as well.
Amir: But aren't you like, a moralizing, hypocritical, womanizing bastard with a bulbous dick? Sorry, but since no one is asking the tough questions, I have to do it. I have a superhero complex as well, you see?
AH: Well, a moralizing, hypocritical, womanizing bastard with a bulbous dick? Maybe I am. Who cares? I have learned that I am insignificant enough even to warrant an ISA arrest. That put myself into perspective. I'm basically a nobody. I don't really have an impact on the world.
Amir: So you would like to? Have an impact? On the world?
AH: Not really. That would mean more responsibility. Responsibility weighs down on me like a fat ho. If I matter, I have to make my actions count. With being a nobody, I can do whatever I want. I mean, the stock market is not going to crash if I say 'fuck' to KJ.
Amir: But you have often written yourself as 'the greatest this' or 'the greatest that' and you often make fun of stupid people. Why so judgemental?
AH: Mmm. Truth is, there is no greatest. Muhammad Ali was the greatest, at one time. Then, it was somebody else. And even Ali is not REALLY the greatest. What about Russell Crowe?
Amir: If you don't believe in the greatest, then why claim yourself as such?
AH: The irony.
Amir: The irony?
AH: Yes. The irony. When I first started writing online, I thought of parodying the fact that anyone can be anything on the Internet. So I thought, if that's the case, I might as well be the greatest. In fact, I use irony a lot in my writing. In most articles, I would criticize something and do that exact same thing in the same article. Or say something bad about something, and do that very thing. It's irony.
Amir: Do you think people even get what you're writing, most of the time?
AH: It would be nice to be understood, but I gave up on that a long time ago. I mean, in my brief stint as a journalist, I tried to be as clear as possible. Newsprint costs money, so I was in the business of saving column spaces. To make a point, a thought, as succint and clear as possible.
On the Internet, space is virtually unlimited. I can be as obscure as I want. The rules are different. What works in newspapers do not work on the Internet. What works on the Internet doesn't necessarily work in newspapers.
They are two very different mediums. With different audiences. Sure, content is content, but the forms in which the content is being delivered is different.
That's why writing popular websites doesn't mean you can write properly for a newspaper. And writing for newspapers doesn't make you automatically as equally proficient on the Internet.
Of course, some have done the transition brilliantly. Dr M. Rocky. And all the good people at Murai.com.my.
Amir: Do you really mean what you write?
AH: I sometimes give people too little or too much credit. I thought they would be able to figure out what I wrote on their own. However, I'm taking the Eminem stand on this.
Amir: The 'Eminem stand'?
AH: Yeah. He raps about taking drugs, killing his wife, his mother, fucking Mariah Carey, carrying guns and a lot of other shit. Does that mean he does it in real life? Maybe. Maybe not. You figure it out. God gave you a brain, didn't He?
Amir: Okay, going back to one of your posts, you now claim to be a Muslim. Is this true?
AH: Oh, that. (laughs)
Amir: Yeah, because SOME people are saying that you're a were-Muslim. You're a Buddhist by day, and a Muslim at night. After you're drunk. Is this true?
AH: Who are these people?
Amir: Just people.
AH: Ah. Well, ultimately, it's up to God. You can label me what you want. I can label myself as whatever. But ultimately, God decides. Who cares? I am intrigued by the original Buddhist philosophies. And I declared myself a Muslim AND a Malay because some liberals of my generation, Muslim liberals, are finding it hard to be a Muslim or a Malay without being apologetic about it.
It seems that a lot of people are trying to get the Malays and the Muslims to be ashamed of themselves. I believe that it is neither shameful to be a Malay than it is to be an Eskimo. That Islam is just like any other religion. Like Scientology and Jedi. Why should it be discriminated against?
This is counter-racism, counter-religionism. And I have to say: Terrorists Win! Even though it's usually none of my business.
I say, screw apoligising for what you are. Apologising for being a lesbian? Fuck that. Apoligizing for being a Hindu? Fuck that.
I find that, sometimes, the biggest opponents to something would be the ones who do it themselves. You fight for freedom, you say, while at the same time you want to repress the freedom of others.
If anyone is going to be that hypocritical, then let it be me!
I must add, though, that I do not represent anyone other than myself. And I DO NOT WANT to represent anyone other than myself. That's too much responsibility. I do not want it.
Amir: Long answer.
AH: Yep.
Amir: So, are you worried about public perception?
AH: Well, I used to be so worried about public perception that I didn't do anything. And then, I arrived at a stage in my life where I did not give a fuck and even hated public perception that I did everything against popular sentiments.
Amir: And now?
AH: Nowadays, I have accepted the existence of public perception. If I play against or for public perception, that is giving way too much power over myself to other people. I do not like it, but I do not hate it either. It is just there. It's like a dog. On the streets. I don't like dogs. But I don't hate dogs either. Dogs are just dogs. But I still hate populists, though. People who pander to the audience. Motherfucking backstabbing populist motherfuckers.
Amir: Are you pandering to the audience now?
AH: Maybe. Maybe not. You have a brain. Figure it out. But please don't condemn me to hell? Pretty please? I'm so fucking scared. Oooohhh. Hell. Fuck you.
Amir: So, tell me about the sex...
(The interview has gone on too long and Amir Hafizi is tired and wants to take a 12-hour nap. We will continue this later.)
Tales from the Drunk Side: Mustard Your Hole
Man. I want to fuck her. I want to poop on her knee and mustard her hole.
I got your genie right here! Right here!
But I have discovered, through empirical observation nonetheless, that the best dancers are not the best fucks.
Maybe they're much too tired after dancing, see? Or since they have expended so much sexual energy seducing everyone that they have nothing else left in the sack.
However. As a fun-the-mentalist Muslim and a terrorist, I approve of this video. Makes me have a hard-on. And anything that makes me have a hard-on is good.
Tales from the Drunk Side: I am Ultra-Malay
So late last night and the night before, I was - am - a Muslim.
I was expecting more heat. People calling me out to be a hypocrite or going on a moral high-horse. Though truth be told, I have no morals. Just a set of beliefs.
I even left myself wide open, with several ironies and deiscrepancies in the article. But apparently, a lot more people were relieved that I was on their side. Though I would not make the mistake of putting too much thought into what other people think. Lest I become one of them and start worrying about what goes on 9in their hypocritical heads.
Anyway, some people did mention their worry that I was becoming an Ultra-Malay. I do not know what this meant. I have no idea.
Is being a Malay - and a Muslim - albeit a bad one at that, something to be ashamed of?
I was simply worried about the rise of racism and religious fervor I am experiencing in this country.
I mean, what the fuck, man? We fuck each other. We should be able to love each other. Otherwise, it's a divorce.
Go back to your mama's house.
Anyway, yeah, rise of racism. Just ba few weeks ago, one woman told me, when I mentioned my wish to wear Baju Melayu to a function, "Baju Melayu is a thing of the past!"
It was said with such malice that it awoke the Malay in me. But I did not do anything, because I do not want to fuel all the racist bullshit that permeats Malaysia. Perhaps due to weak leadership. Perhaps due to other bullshit.
But anyway, I was labelled as a liberal turning into an ultra-Malay. Simply because I stopped bashing the Government and have turned my attentions to the opposition and NGOs, which I see are making stupid decisions.
SImply because I wrote about being Muslim, my way. I know it's not conventional. I know a lot of the motherfuckers who were affected by my sentiments would not get it.
But I am not here to explain myself. I will explain myself in the court of law, if it comes to that. And I have had enough of the court of public perception and public persecution that I do not give a shit anymore.
You can call me whatever. You can label me whatever. Only God can judge me. Properly.
Well, okay. If people are going to label me, which they always do, I might as well get into it. I'm a chronic approval-seeker, remember?
And like I said, I do not know what this 'ultra-Malay' meant. So I did what I always do - I turned to the Internet for information.
What I got was this:
I guess this is an example of an Ultra-Malay.
Man, I got to get me one of those shades. Then, I can turn to a superhero.
Gapo gegeh tuh?
I was expecting more heat. People calling me out to be a hypocrite or going on a moral high-horse. Though truth be told, I have no morals. Just a set of beliefs.
I even left myself wide open, with several ironies and deiscrepancies in the article. But apparently, a lot more people were relieved that I was on their side. Though I would not make the mistake of putting too much thought into what other people think. Lest I become one of them and start worrying about what goes on 9in their hypocritical heads.
Anyway, some people did mention their worry that I was becoming an Ultra-Malay. I do not know what this meant. I have no idea.
Is being a Malay - and a Muslim - albeit a bad one at that, something to be ashamed of?
I was simply worried about the rise of racism and religious fervor I am experiencing in this country.
I mean, what the fuck, man? We fuck each other. We should be able to love each other. Otherwise, it's a divorce.
Go back to your mama's house.
Anyway, yeah, rise of racism. Just ba few weeks ago, one woman told me, when I mentioned my wish to wear Baju Melayu to a function, "Baju Melayu is a thing of the past!"
It was said with such malice that it awoke the Malay in me. But I did not do anything, because I do not want to fuel all the racist bullshit that permeats Malaysia. Perhaps due to weak leadership. Perhaps due to other bullshit.
But anyway, I was labelled as a liberal turning into an ultra-Malay. Simply because I stopped bashing the Government and have turned my attentions to the opposition and NGOs, which I see are making stupid decisions.
SImply because I wrote about being Muslim, my way. I know it's not conventional. I know a lot of the motherfuckers who were affected by my sentiments would not get it.
But I am not here to explain myself. I will explain myself in the court of law, if it comes to that. And I have had enough of the court of public perception and public persecution that I do not give a shit anymore.
You can call me whatever. You can label me whatever. Only God can judge me. Properly.
Well, okay. If people are going to label me, which they always do, I might as well get into it. I'm a chronic approval-seeker, remember?
And like I said, I do not know what this 'ultra-Malay' meant. So I did what I always do - I turned to the Internet for information.
What I got was this:
I guess this is an example of an Ultra-Malay.
Man, I got to get me one of those shades. Then, I can turn to a superhero.
Gapo gegeh tuh?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Mabuk-mabuk Kepayang: Api Syurga Meragut Lalang
Beranikah aku menulis berkenaan agama?
Muahahahaha!
Aku orang jahil. Aku tak pergi Universiti Al-Azhar. Aku tak belajar di Akademi Pengajian Islam, Universiti Malaya. Aku Fakulti Sains Komputer dan Teknologi Maklumat, UM.
Dan aku berani kata aku jahil, pasal kalau tak cakap pun, Tuhan tau. Kalau aku boleh kelentong kau pun, ada aku dapat masuk syurga? Bila masa kau jadi Tuhan aku? Bila masa aku sembah kau?
Pergi jolok jubur mak kau la.
Ramai orang memberitahu aku, "Islam itu indah."
Bila aku tanya, "Di mana indahnya?"
Jawapan yang biasa aku dapat ialah, "Kau murtad!"
Pukimak betul.
Taulah kau tak dapat bagi jawapan yang munasabah. Pasal kau pun bengong dan bebal jugak. Ego kau tercalar sebab tak dapat nak bagi jawapan yang bagus. Pasal kau bodoh. Pasal kau righteous tak bertempat. Pasal kau sendiri tak yakin dengan agama kau, kepercayaan kau. Nak buat macamana?
Kau dilahirkan bodoh, lepas tu kau rasa macam gila best, akan masuk syurga. Pasal kau ada la sembahyang sikit-sikit. Puasa pun cukup la, pasal kau takutkan Black Maria, atau Makcik Bedah Mulut Jubur, atau jiran kau yang beragama PIS-M. Kira ada jugak la amalan kau. Walaupun hati kau Hindu. Walaupun Tuhan kau ialah orang lain.
Kononnya Tuhan akan bagi kau at least C- la. Boleh le lepas. Lulus masuk syurga, walaupun gred 3. Cukup la untuk orang bodoh macam kau.
Takpe. Jangan bimbang. AKu takkan campak kau masuk neraka. Tak payah kecoh. Pasal aku bukan Tuhan.
Sejak aku jadi orang tua ni, aku makin mendapati ketenangan diri aku menjadi lebih penting.
Lebih penting dari seks. Lebih penting dari duit.
Ketenangan yang aku cari, aku jumpa dalam falsafah New Age. Bukan agama. Bukan fahaman. Tapi cuma kesimpulan yang didapati dari agama yang sebelumnya. Antaranya Islam.
Dalam perkataan 'Islam' itu sendiri, ada pengajarannya. 'Islam' bermaksud berserah. Bukan menyerah diri macam orang Perancis.
Bagi aku, maksudnya ialah berserah dengan menerima bahawa dunia ini seadanya. Apabila aku berjaya menerima dunia ini seadanya, maka aku berasa tenang. Aku tak kalut nak menukar dunia ini.
Aku tak rasa macam palat kalau ada benda yang tak ikut apa yang aku nak.
Dan bila aku dah berasa tenang, barulah aku boleh mengambil langkah untuk membuat apa yang aku hendak. Barulah aku menukar apa yang aku hendak. Dengan menerima dunia ini seadanya, barulah aku boleh membuat perubahan dengan lebih berkesan. Kerana aku tidak lagi dikawal oleh emosi.
Bukanlah setiap masa, tetapi bila aku buat, aku nampak hasilnya.
Kemudian, aku perhatikan orang sekeliling aku. Orang yang paling tiada masalah dengan dunia ialah orang yang ikhlas bekerja.
Bayar murah ke, bayar mahal ke, dia ok je. Dia ikhlas. Jadi, makin banyak rezeki yang dia dapat. Tawaran kerja bergaji mahal, bertimbun-timbun.
Ini bukan magik. Ada sainsnya. Bila kau ikhlas, dan kau bersyukur, maka kau dapat buat kerja dengan lebih tenang dan lebih bagus.
Kerja yang lebih berkualiti akan menaikkan reputasi kau. Maka, bertambahlah kepercayaan dan nilai kerja kau.
Dengan bersyukur apa yang kau ada, dan membuat kerja dengan ikhlas, maka kau akan dapat lagi banyak.
Aku dah cuba. Beberapa bulan aku buat, dan hasil kerja aku lebih bagus. Jauh lebih bagus. Aku lebih tenang, lebih gembira, dan lebih banyak benda yang datang kepada aku.
Kau boleh jumpa ini dalam The Secret dan juga dalam Islam. Law of Attraction. Gratitude. Konsep syukur dan konsep ikhlas. Hasilnya, kalau aku nak pura-pura Arab lah, ialah rezeki yang barakah. Yang berkat. Chewah!
Selagi kau masih tamakkan sesuatu, selagi tu kau takkan cukup. Macam dalam The Secret. Selagi kau tamakkan sesuatu, selagi itulah kau hanya menjadi orang yang tamak. Semua benda tak cukup.
Kau tamakkan pantat. Kau tamakkan orang memuja kau. Kau tamakkan orang menginginkan kau. Kau tamakkan barangan berjenama. Kau tamakkan orang menganggap kau cool. Bila kau nak puas?
Drive atau semangat itu datang sendiri. Tak perlu disertakan dengan ketamakan.
Aku tak ada pendapat tentang amalan-amalan. Tak ada pendapat tentang fatwa Yoga. Bagi aku, itu semua Ahmad Albab yang punya hal.
Syurga-neraka, Tuhan punya pasal. Kalau nak sumbat aku ke mana-mana pun, ada aku kisah? Tu bukan hal aku. Tu hal Tuhan. Buatlah apa yang patut.
Aku tak jumpa indahnya Islam dalam masjid kristal.
Aku tak jumpa indahnya Islam dalam tasbih.
Aku tak jumpa indahnya Islam dalam kata-kata orang lain. Kesat atau manis. ATau dalam pakaian Arab.
Aku taki jumpa indahnya Islam dalam diri orang yang hanya tahu menghakimi orang lain dan cuba berlagak Tuhan, mengkafirkan sesuka hati, mencaci sesuka hati.
Aku hanya percayakan diri aku sendiri. Otak aku sendiri. Dan aku tak perlu mencari, kerana apa yang aku perlukan, akan datang sendiri.
Muahahahaha!
Aku orang jahil. Aku tak pergi Universiti Al-Azhar. Aku tak belajar di Akademi Pengajian Islam, Universiti Malaya. Aku Fakulti Sains Komputer dan Teknologi Maklumat, UM.
Dan aku berani kata aku jahil, pasal kalau tak cakap pun, Tuhan tau. Kalau aku boleh kelentong kau pun, ada aku dapat masuk syurga? Bila masa kau jadi Tuhan aku? Bila masa aku sembah kau?
Pergi jolok jubur mak kau la.
Ramai orang memberitahu aku, "Islam itu indah."
Bila aku tanya, "Di mana indahnya?"
Jawapan yang biasa aku dapat ialah, "Kau murtad!"
Pukimak betul.
Taulah kau tak dapat bagi jawapan yang munasabah. Pasal kau pun bengong dan bebal jugak. Ego kau tercalar sebab tak dapat nak bagi jawapan yang bagus. Pasal kau bodoh. Pasal kau righteous tak bertempat. Pasal kau sendiri tak yakin dengan agama kau, kepercayaan kau. Nak buat macamana?
Kau dilahirkan bodoh, lepas tu kau rasa macam gila best, akan masuk syurga. Pasal kau ada la sembahyang sikit-sikit. Puasa pun cukup la, pasal kau takutkan Black Maria, atau Makcik Bedah Mulut Jubur, atau jiran kau yang beragama PIS-M. Kira ada jugak la amalan kau. Walaupun hati kau Hindu. Walaupun Tuhan kau ialah orang lain.
Kononnya Tuhan akan bagi kau at least C- la. Boleh le lepas. Lulus masuk syurga, walaupun gred 3. Cukup la untuk orang bodoh macam kau.
Takpe. Jangan bimbang. AKu takkan campak kau masuk neraka. Tak payah kecoh. Pasal aku bukan Tuhan.
Sejak aku jadi orang tua ni, aku makin mendapati ketenangan diri aku menjadi lebih penting.
Lebih penting dari seks. Lebih penting dari duit.
Ketenangan yang aku cari, aku jumpa dalam falsafah New Age. Bukan agama. Bukan fahaman. Tapi cuma kesimpulan yang didapati dari agama yang sebelumnya. Antaranya Islam.
Dalam perkataan 'Islam' itu sendiri, ada pengajarannya. 'Islam' bermaksud berserah. Bukan menyerah diri macam orang Perancis.
Bagi aku, maksudnya ialah berserah dengan menerima bahawa dunia ini seadanya. Apabila aku berjaya menerima dunia ini seadanya, maka aku berasa tenang. Aku tak kalut nak menukar dunia ini.
Aku tak rasa macam palat kalau ada benda yang tak ikut apa yang aku nak.
Dan bila aku dah berasa tenang, barulah aku boleh mengambil langkah untuk membuat apa yang aku hendak. Barulah aku menukar apa yang aku hendak. Dengan menerima dunia ini seadanya, barulah aku boleh membuat perubahan dengan lebih berkesan. Kerana aku tidak lagi dikawal oleh emosi.
Bukanlah setiap masa, tetapi bila aku buat, aku nampak hasilnya.
Kemudian, aku perhatikan orang sekeliling aku. Orang yang paling tiada masalah dengan dunia ialah orang yang ikhlas bekerja.
Bayar murah ke, bayar mahal ke, dia ok je. Dia ikhlas. Jadi, makin banyak rezeki yang dia dapat. Tawaran kerja bergaji mahal, bertimbun-timbun.
Ini bukan magik. Ada sainsnya. Bila kau ikhlas, dan kau bersyukur, maka kau dapat buat kerja dengan lebih tenang dan lebih bagus.
Kerja yang lebih berkualiti akan menaikkan reputasi kau. Maka, bertambahlah kepercayaan dan nilai kerja kau.
Dengan bersyukur apa yang kau ada, dan membuat kerja dengan ikhlas, maka kau akan dapat lagi banyak.
Aku dah cuba. Beberapa bulan aku buat, dan hasil kerja aku lebih bagus. Jauh lebih bagus. Aku lebih tenang, lebih gembira, dan lebih banyak benda yang datang kepada aku.
Kau boleh jumpa ini dalam The Secret dan juga dalam Islam. Law of Attraction. Gratitude. Konsep syukur dan konsep ikhlas. Hasilnya, kalau aku nak pura-pura Arab lah, ialah rezeki yang barakah. Yang berkat. Chewah!
Selagi kau masih tamakkan sesuatu, selagi tu kau takkan cukup. Macam dalam The Secret. Selagi kau tamakkan sesuatu, selagi itulah kau hanya menjadi orang yang tamak. Semua benda tak cukup.
Kau tamakkan pantat. Kau tamakkan orang memuja kau. Kau tamakkan orang menginginkan kau. Kau tamakkan barangan berjenama. Kau tamakkan orang menganggap kau cool. Bila kau nak puas?
Drive atau semangat itu datang sendiri. Tak perlu disertakan dengan ketamakan.
Aku tak ada pendapat tentang amalan-amalan. Tak ada pendapat tentang fatwa Yoga. Bagi aku, itu semua Ahmad Albab yang punya hal.
Syurga-neraka, Tuhan punya pasal. Kalau nak sumbat aku ke mana-mana pun, ada aku kisah? Tu bukan hal aku. Tu hal Tuhan. Buatlah apa yang patut.
Aku tak jumpa indahnya Islam dalam masjid kristal.
Aku tak jumpa indahnya Islam dalam tasbih.
Aku tak jumpa indahnya Islam dalam kata-kata orang lain. Kesat atau manis. ATau dalam pakaian Arab.
Aku taki jumpa indahnya Islam dalam diri orang yang hanya tahu menghakimi orang lain dan cuba berlagak Tuhan, mengkafirkan sesuka hati, mencaci sesuka hati.
Aku hanya percayakan diri aku sendiri. Otak aku sendiri. Dan aku tak perlu mencari, kerana apa yang aku perlukan, akan datang sendiri.
Tales from the Drunk Side: Terrorists Win!
You asked for it.
Now, I am going to be a Muslim. In fact, I'm a fundamentalist Muslim. Otherwise known to (or deemed by) idiots as a terrorist.
Any of you got a problem with that?
Now, I am going to be a Muslim. In fact, I'm a fundamentalist Muslim. Otherwise known to (or deemed by) idiots as a terrorist.
Terrorists Win!
Any of you got a problem with that?
Zen-Master Sexay
Even though the world is facing an economic downturn, I visualize a lot of work for me.
So much so, that even thinking about it makes me feel lethargic. Tired.
So, as a Zen-Master - Zen-Master Sexay, yo! - I empty my mind.
I have no feelings; I feel no emotion.
My attention is 100% focused on the now.
There is no moment truer than the now. Everything else does not exist without the now.
I am only real within the moment that I live in.
All other 'mes' do not exist.
All vengeance, master plans, all change, ambition, dream, are all shadows cast by the now.
Therefore, the only thing that deserves my focus is the now.
Zen-Master Sexay!
So much so, that even thinking about it makes me feel lethargic. Tired.
So, as a Zen-Master - Zen-Master Sexay, yo! - I empty my mind.
I have no feelings; I feel no emotion.
My attention is 100% focused on the now.
There is no moment truer than the now. Everything else does not exist without the now.
I am only real within the moment that I live in.
All other 'mes' do not exist.
All vengeance, master plans, all change, ambition, dream, are all shadows cast by the now.
Therefore, the only thing that deserves my focus is the now.
Zen-Master Sexay!
Zeroes: Ones
Previously, on Zeroes...
Some of us find solace in groups. It's a throwback to a time when huddling around a campfire is a survival trait.
So, some of us prostitute our integrity, our honesty and our feelings, so that we could fit in. Sacrificing individuality and all that makes us unique, just so that a few other people might afford us their company.
Then, there are those who find solace in solitude. The unreasonable ones. The fantastical ones. The ones who would be a catalyst for evolution and for revolutions...
Me: What the fuck? I thought I killed everyone already? With my Blackberry?
Mohinder Sunder: I don't die. For I am the voice of Shenkar. And I do yoga.
Me: Big fucking deal. What about Yogi B?
MS: Yogi Berra?
Me: No. Yogi B. Poetic Ammo. With Landslyde and C Loco.
MS: What about Yogi B?
Me: Well, will the ban affect him as well?
MS: Nooooooooooo!!!
Hayden Christensen:I'm still alive. Cause I'm a cheerleader. Save the cheerleader, save the world.
Me: Oh yeah? Imma kill you, bitch! Like Bishop killed Gambit. I mean, like Peter killed Nathan. Oops!
HC: NO! I'm too cute to die!
Me: Die, motherfucker, die!
And they all died. Again.
Me: Shut up, Shenkar!
Some of us find solace in groups. It's a throwback to a time when huddling around a campfire is a survival trait.
So, some of us prostitute our integrity, our honesty and our feelings, so that we could fit in. Sacrificing individuality and all that makes us unique, just so that a few other people might afford us their company.
Then, there are those who find solace in solitude. The unreasonable ones. The fantastical ones. The ones who would be a catalyst for evolution and for revolutions...
Me: What the fuck? I thought I killed everyone already? With my Blackberry?
Mohinder Sunder: I don't die. For I am the voice of Shenkar. And I do yoga.
Me: Big fucking deal. What about Yogi B?
MS: Yogi Berra?
Me: No. Yogi B. Poetic Ammo. With Landslyde and C Loco.
MS: What about Yogi B?
Me: Well, will the ban affect him as well?
MS: Nooooooooooo!!!
Hayden Christensen:I'm still alive. Cause I'm a cheerleader. Save the cheerleader, save the world.
Me: Oh yeah? Imma kill you, bitch! Like Bishop killed Gambit. I mean, like Peter killed Nathan. Oops!
HC: NO! I'm too cute to die!
Me: Die, motherfucker, die!
And they all died. Again.
Me: Shut up, Shenkar!
Tales from the Drunk Side: Apotheosis
Ok. Everybody calm down.
Stop walking into land-mines. Stop trying to make statements. JAKIM had their fun. Leave them be.
Leave Islam to the Islams, bra.
So far, no one has been arrested, or sent to a Pusat Pemulihan Akhlak.
The more you react to something, the bigger it gets. The bigger it gets, real LAWS will be made and used.
We live in Malaysia, a special place, where there is only one rule: YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT. AS LONG AS YOU DON'T GET CAUGHT.
I would hate to see open violence on the issue. And the paranoid side of me suspects that some people are going to claim political mileage out of this. And we all know we shouldn't trust politicians.
So take a chill pill. Relax. Do not fuel the fire. We love each other, remember? We even fuck each other.
Let it go. Let it be.
Be Zen.
Stop walking into land-mines. Stop trying to make statements. JAKIM had their fun. Leave them be.
Leave Islam to the Islams, bra.
So far, no one has been arrested, or sent to a Pusat Pemulihan Akhlak.
The more you react to something, the bigger it gets. The bigger it gets, real LAWS will be made and used.
We live in Malaysia, a special place, where there is only one rule: YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT. AS LONG AS YOU DON'T GET CAUGHT.
I would hate to see open violence on the issue. And the paranoid side of me suspects that some people are going to claim political mileage out of this. And we all know we shouldn't trust politicians.
So take a chill pill. Relax. Do not fuel the fire. We love each other, remember? We even fuck each other.
Let it go. Let it be.
Be Zen.
Tales from the Drunk Side: Kalari Varma
Oh, my stars and garters.
I was walking down a long and lonesome road when three hundred hooligans jumped on me. They started beating me up, clapping all the way.
So I did what I always do. I started clapping back and beat them back.
After going through 150 of them, one major badass dragged his sister, whom I've never seen before, into the fray.
Our eyes met, and suddenly I have this urge to plant a tree. It started raining, which is a fertility symbol and it means that we're fucking, and we started singing with seven thousand backup dancers and a whole wardrobe change - to signify the passage of time.
Then the brother interrupted our reverie and started shooting at me. Along with 100,000 extras that just appeared out of nowhere.
I whipped out my gun and started shooting them one by one.
Then, I ran out of bullets. So I caught a bullet fired at me in the chambers of my revolver and fired it back. I did that a few times.
Suddenly, I find myself facing three people, but with only one bullet left.
So I fired and threw my knife at them. The knife hit the middle guy square on the forehead. And the bullet split on the blade and killed the other two flanking him.
I got two other guns and started chasing after the brother.
He went into a tractor and shrugged - causing him and the tractor to clear a wall.
So I thre one of the guns over the wall and shot the trigger with my other gun. The shot from the gun that was in the air hit him square in the back.
"Ane!" He shouted.
So his brother came.
I shouted, "Ane!" too. And soon, Ultraman Zopi, Ultraman Joe, Ultraman Taro, Ultraman Ace and Ultraman Tiga appeared. Along with Jackie Schroff who was confined to a rocking chair throughout this story. He's not the only guy who has anes.
They battled the ane monster. And they killed it.
So I wanted to get it on with the girl, but then her father showed up and declared her a shakti.
Enraged, I travelled through time and beat up Kublai Khan. Then I met Vijay Khan, who taught me Kalari Varma.
Using that and Eckhart Tolle's New Age philosophies, I became a Zen-Master.
I was walking down a long and lonesome road when three hundred hooligans jumped on me. They started beating me up, clapping all the way.
So I did what I always do. I started clapping back and beat them back.
After going through 150 of them, one major badass dragged his sister, whom I've never seen before, into the fray.
Our eyes met, and suddenly I have this urge to plant a tree. It started raining, which is a fertility symbol and it means that we're fucking, and we started singing with seven thousand backup dancers and a whole wardrobe change - to signify the passage of time.
Then the brother interrupted our reverie and started shooting at me. Along with 100,000 extras that just appeared out of nowhere.
I whipped out my gun and started shooting them one by one.
Then, I ran out of bullets. So I caught a bullet fired at me in the chambers of my revolver and fired it back. I did that a few times.
Suddenly, I find myself facing three people, but with only one bullet left.
So I fired and threw my knife at them. The knife hit the middle guy square on the forehead. And the bullet split on the blade and killed the other two flanking him.
I got two other guns and started chasing after the brother.
He went into a tractor and shrugged - causing him and the tractor to clear a wall.
So I thre one of the guns over the wall and shot the trigger with my other gun. The shot from the gun that was in the air hit him square in the back.
"Ane!" He shouted.
So his brother came.
I shouted, "Ane!" too. And soon, Ultraman Zopi, Ultraman Joe, Ultraman Taro, Ultraman Ace and Ultraman Tiga appeared. Along with Jackie Schroff who was confined to a rocking chair throughout this story. He's not the only guy who has anes.
They battled the ane monster. And they killed it.
So I wanted to get it on with the girl, but then her father showed up and declared her a shakti.
Enraged, I travelled through time and beat up Kublai Khan. Then I met Vijay Khan, who taught me Kalari Varma.
Using that and Eckhart Tolle's New Age philosophies, I became a Zen-Master.
"...a kind of exercise..."
So. You fools walked into it. Stupid.
Oh well. That's how it rolls.
Now, I'm keeping fit using this form of exercise:
And the classic:
So that one day, I could dance like these people:
I love you, yenna deyyy!
Oh well. That's how it rolls.
Now, I'm keeping fit using this form of exercise:
And the classic:
So that one day, I could dance like these people:
I love you, yenna deyyy!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Degeneration M: Born Again Malaysian
Sometimes, these days, I feel like draping the flag around myself and jump off rooftops to fight crime.
Though I was told recently that that would be a desecration of a national symbol.
This thing - this spirit of nationalism - it is not cool. To be cool, you have to pretend not to care about shit. You need to be able to laugh off everything with other idiots and losers. You need to be untouchable. Wow. That's really cool.
Then, I am not as cool as I thought. Because I do care. I do give a damn. And it goes beyond writing "I care" online.
Or wear t-shirts. Or the National Clothes. Or buy a national car. Or speaking or writing in the National Language. Those are the forms. The 'kata' (the Japanese martial arts 'kata', not the Bahasa Malaysia 'kata'.)
It is also not banning forms of exercise or supressing other people's culture. Or restricting the freedom of women. Or lesbians. Though truth be told, I would love to restrict the movements of some women. In bed. And in some cases, get them to make more movements.
Yes. I'm horny. So what? Fuck you. Suck my dick.
I am beginning to realize that in order for me to find a place where I can have all the freedoms I want and live the way I want to live, I would have to carve it from the ground I walk on.
No matter where I go, I carry home with me. Be it in this country or the next, or Montreal or New York, or even Bangkok or Phuket.
This country is the sum of all those things. All the efforts and struggle and peace made by various people.
Parameswara and Ninachatu and Hang Li Po. Ptolemy and Cheng He. Tok Janggut and Mat Kilau and Dato' Bahaman. Sir Gerald Templer, Sir Henry Gurney, Sir Harold Briggs.
I have a soft spot for HN Ridley, or Rubber Ridley, because people called him Mad Ridley but he went on and established an industry which put food on the table of millions of Malaysians. Including my father. He used to tap rubber before going to school.
Tunku Abdul Rahman and Tun Abdul Razak (my grandfather's cousin), Tun Hussein Onn. Tun Dr Ismail. VT Sambanthan. Tun Tan Siew Sin. Tun Dr Mahathir, Pak Lah, KJ. The good, the bad, the fugly. Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey.
All these people. The sum of their successes and their failings. Their mistakes. Their greatness and their weakness. And here we are.
Now. Where do we go from here?
For a time, I thought it was to leave this bloody stupid racist country. With its stupid people. Judgemental fucktards. And fat women. With big hair. And Femi-Nazis married to MCPs.
But when the time came, some time ago, I choked. I had two offers to go to Switzerland and Germany.
And carve an international career.
But I didn't go. I couldn't. I stayed.
Chris Rock said, the most romantic thing a man can say to a woman is this: "I ain't goin' nowhere."
It means, he continued, that the man DID consider leaving. Went out and talked to his lawyer. Saw a few places, and figured that he'd be miserable anywhere, with anyone, so he'd stay and be miserable with you.
I don't know why I stayed, actually. It baffles me to this day. SOme people would be happy to see me go. If I was an approval seeker, a populist, I would make their dreams come true. My parents were okay with it.
But I didn't go, did I?
Even if I were to go one day, I am sure I would return.
And recently, seeing as how our politicians and politics have failed us, I am compelled to stick around as much as I can.
In family psychology, it is postulated that the most important job for parents is not simply to put a roof above their children's heads. Or clothe them. Or get them to school. You're supposed to do that, yes, but most importantly, the parent has to be there.
This is the Presence. Being present is one of the most important things you can give someone. Or something.
I know we will go through a tough time. In fact, in my lifetime, there will be more tough times ahead. The stock markets crash every eight to 10 years. Eight of the 11 (not including Obama) past Presidents of the US were Republicans. And Republicans screw up so the Democrats would clean up. It is a cycle.
Despite everything, unless we find oil on Mars, and thus prove that dinosaurs discovered inter-planetary travel with their pea-sized brains, petrol prices will continue to rise. So will diesel. And polymers. Coatings. Plastics.
But there are things that a multi-talented man such as myself can do. There are things only I can do.
And with great powers, comes great responsibility. And lots of people to annoy.
Things to build. Cities, real or imagined. Stories, movies, books.
They will never appreciate me. In fact, some people will try to destroy me. But I still do my work. I still do what is right.
So, for now, I ain't goin' nowhere.
Though I was told recently that that would be a desecration of a national symbol.
This thing - this spirit of nationalism - it is not cool. To be cool, you have to pretend not to care about shit. You need to be able to laugh off everything with other idiots and losers. You need to be untouchable. Wow. That's really cool.
Then, I am not as cool as I thought. Because I do care. I do give a damn. And it goes beyond writing "I care" online.
Or wear t-shirts. Or the National Clothes. Or buy a national car. Or speaking or writing in the National Language. Those are the forms. The 'kata' (the Japanese martial arts 'kata', not the Bahasa Malaysia 'kata'.)
It is also not banning forms of exercise or supressing other people's culture. Or restricting the freedom of women. Or lesbians. Though truth be told, I would love to restrict the movements of some women. In bed. And in some cases, get them to make more movements.
Yes. I'm horny. So what? Fuck you. Suck my dick.
I am beginning to realize that in order for me to find a place where I can have all the freedoms I want and live the way I want to live, I would have to carve it from the ground I walk on.
No matter where I go, I carry home with me. Be it in this country or the next, or Montreal or New York, or even Bangkok or Phuket.
This country is the sum of all those things. All the efforts and struggle and peace made by various people.
Parameswara and Ninachatu and Hang Li Po. Ptolemy and Cheng He. Tok Janggut and Mat Kilau and Dato' Bahaman. Sir Gerald Templer, Sir Henry Gurney, Sir Harold Briggs.
I have a soft spot for HN Ridley, or Rubber Ridley, because people called him Mad Ridley but he went on and established an industry which put food on the table of millions of Malaysians. Including my father. He used to tap rubber before going to school.
Tunku Abdul Rahman and Tun Abdul Razak (my grandfather's cousin), Tun Hussein Onn. Tun Dr Ismail. VT Sambanthan. Tun Tan Siew Sin. Tun Dr Mahathir, Pak Lah, KJ. The good, the bad, the fugly. Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey.
All these people. The sum of their successes and their failings. Their mistakes. Their greatness and their weakness. And here we are.
Now. Where do we go from here?
For a time, I thought it was to leave this bloody stupid racist country. With its stupid people. Judgemental fucktards. And fat women. With big hair. And Femi-Nazis married to MCPs.
But when the time came, some time ago, I choked. I had two offers to go to Switzerland and Germany.
And carve an international career.
But I didn't go. I couldn't. I stayed.
Chris Rock said, the most romantic thing a man can say to a woman is this: "I ain't goin' nowhere."
It means, he continued, that the man DID consider leaving. Went out and talked to his lawyer. Saw a few places, and figured that he'd be miserable anywhere, with anyone, so he'd stay and be miserable with you.
I don't know why I stayed, actually. It baffles me to this day. SOme people would be happy to see me go. If I was an approval seeker, a populist, I would make their dreams come true. My parents were okay with it.
But I didn't go, did I?
Even if I were to go one day, I am sure I would return.
And recently, seeing as how our politicians and politics have failed us, I am compelled to stick around as much as I can.
In family psychology, it is postulated that the most important job for parents is not simply to put a roof above their children's heads. Or clothe them. Or get them to school. You're supposed to do that, yes, but most importantly, the parent has to be there.
This is the Presence. Being present is one of the most important things you can give someone. Or something.
I know we will go through a tough time. In fact, in my lifetime, there will be more tough times ahead. The stock markets crash every eight to 10 years. Eight of the 11 (not including Obama) past Presidents of the US were Republicans. And Republicans screw up so the Democrats would clean up. It is a cycle.
Despite everything, unless we find oil on Mars, and thus prove that dinosaurs discovered inter-planetary travel with their pea-sized brains, petrol prices will continue to rise. So will diesel. And polymers. Coatings. Plastics.
But there are things that a multi-talented man such as myself can do. There are things only I can do.
And with great powers, comes great responsibility. And lots of people to annoy.
Things to build. Cities, real or imagined. Stories, movies, books.
They will never appreciate me. In fact, some people will try to destroy me. But I still do my work. I still do what is right.
So, for now, I ain't goin' nowhere.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Gatekeepers
Things are falling into place. The giant jigsaw is almost complete.
I have opened doors, and some portals and archways are revealed to me. Porticos. Some that I never knew existed before.
And for the first time in my life, I am in control of myself. The tornado, the raging bull that is my mind, my ego, my whatever, is still. Bristling with anticipation. Not expectation. Anticipation.
The wheels have turned. The cogs are aligning. Even the stars are in their proper positions.
So many things can go wrong. But hey, so many things can always go wrong.
But.
If even one goes right, well, I will let history be the judge of that.
OPEN. THE. GATES!
I have opened doors, and some portals and archways are revealed to me. Porticos. Some that I never knew existed before.
And for the first time in my life, I am in control of myself. The tornado, the raging bull that is my mind, my ego, my whatever, is still. Bristling with anticipation. Not expectation. Anticipation.
The wheels have turned. The cogs are aligning. Even the stars are in their proper positions.
So many things can go wrong. But hey, so many things can always go wrong.
But.
If even one goes right, well, I will let history be the judge of that.
OPEN. THE. GATES!
The Ever Living
Today, I was woken up by messages from my Blackberry (product placement, yo!).
Apparently, some (meaning: more than one) media students are asking me for advice. Career advice. Man, I am old. I am ancient.
For some of them, I gave ideas on how to select their final year project themes, who to speak to, where to dig information, and how to sell parts of the research to newspapers and magazines - as articles - to make some extra moolah.
Some are not sure where to continue their studies, and in what field of media.
I wish I had a career counselor when I was in college.
I had to be careful, though. I am inclined to be patronizing and judgemental. And the flip side of not getting any advice is getting too much advice.
As I have learned, people need to make their own mistakes. I cannot, and should not, live their lives for them. I got too much life in my dick to even spend any time for other people.
I need to take care of myself, first and foremost. Then, other people don't have to take care of me.
This is how I make other people's lives better. The best way to do it. My greatest fear is being a burden. So I make sure I am not.
What I do, sometimes, is open doors for people. My mentor, he likes to see people grow. I turn the knobs and kick people out the door.
"Go and do shit for yourself, suckers!"
Or.
"Here's a spade! Now go and grow whatever you want. And you reap what you sow!"
Because there is no other way.
Whenever I try to help people. Patronizingly help them, it always blows up in my face. They end up using me for some stuff. And as long as I do not learn this lesson, the universe will keep on sending the same circumstances and the same kind of people my way.
Thank God I read the Buddha comics. By Osamu Tezuka, yo!
But hey, that's how it is. That's how the world is. That's how life is. That's how motherfuckers roll.
I can cry and lock myself up like some emo bitch on her last tampon.
"Why? WHY? WHY?! WHYYYYY???!!! Boo fucking hoo!"
Or I can go on with my life. And fuck as many people as I want and make as much money as I want.
Excuse my dust, nigra.
And thank God for the idiots. They make me look good even without trying. Thanks, assholes.
If everyone is smart, like me, then I won't even have a job. Those assholes would have mine.
I accept the world as it is. I find out about the rules. And I play within those parameters. One day, when I am invincible enough, I will break those rules, and create my own set of laws.
And you motherfuckers have to play my game. By my rules.
Apparently, some (meaning: more than one) media students are asking me for advice. Career advice. Man, I am old. I am ancient.
For some of them, I gave ideas on how to select their final year project themes, who to speak to, where to dig information, and how to sell parts of the research to newspapers and magazines - as articles - to make some extra moolah.
Some are not sure where to continue their studies, and in what field of media.
I wish I had a career counselor when I was in college.
I had to be careful, though. I am inclined to be patronizing and judgemental. And the flip side of not getting any advice is getting too much advice.
As I have learned, people need to make their own mistakes. I cannot, and should not, live their lives for them. I got too much life in my dick to even spend any time for other people.
I need to take care of myself, first and foremost. Then, other people don't have to take care of me.
This is how I make other people's lives better. The best way to do it. My greatest fear is being a burden. So I make sure I am not.
What I do, sometimes, is open doors for people. My mentor, he likes to see people grow. I turn the knobs and kick people out the door.
"Go and do shit for yourself, suckers!"
Or.
"Here's a spade! Now go and grow whatever you want. And you reap what you sow!"
Because there is no other way.
Whenever I try to help people. Patronizingly help them, it always blows up in my face. They end up using me for some stuff. And as long as I do not learn this lesson, the universe will keep on sending the same circumstances and the same kind of people my way.
Thank God I read the Buddha comics. By Osamu Tezuka, yo!
But hey, that's how it is. That's how the world is. That's how life is. That's how motherfuckers roll.
I can cry and lock myself up like some emo bitch on her last tampon.
"Why? WHY? WHY?! WHYYYYY???!!! Boo fucking hoo!"
Or I can go on with my life. And fuck as many people as I want and make as much money as I want.
Excuse my dust, nigra.
And thank God for the idiots. They make me look good even without trying. Thanks, assholes.
If everyone is smart, like me, then I won't even have a job. Those assholes would have mine.
I accept the world as it is. I find out about the rules. And I play within those parameters. One day, when I am invincible enough, I will break those rules, and create my own set of laws.
And you motherfuckers have to play my game. By my rules.
The Empire Strikes Back
I told you so.
I mean, I'm sorry and all, but, I told you so.
I'm right, you're WRONG.
Can't help it, man.
If you are not entirely sure you can crush them, do not go directly against them.
David and Goliath is a romantist fantasy. But unless you're wielding a pretty mean slingshot, NO.
And now, headliners, yo!
People are dicks. The more you beat on them, the larger they get and the larger their egos get. And they do get a pleasure out of all this. While your hands get tired. Your muscles might develop, but only to masturbate more dicks.
Look at Barrack Hussein Obama. He did not make his race the focal point of his campaign. Oh, it's there on the table, all right, but he didn't trumpet it as widely as some idiots here would.
Why? Cause he knows the rules. He still needs that racist heartland vote. He still needs white people to vote for him, and he sure as hell is not going to alienate them. Cause they are still the majority.
This country has a different set of rules. Laws. And there are still people breaking them.
Example: speed limits. We have speed limits, and every day, people go over it. Some get caught. Some don't.
And most people who break it, they know full well what they're doing. And they would do it again, regardless whether they get caught or not.
They would still make that illegal u-turn, run red lights, even though it is CLEAR it is wrong.
And they do not face a nationwide persecution. Why? Cause there is no concerted effort to go and fight the authorities on this. Cause they know they will lose.
Say there is a 'Deviant Motorists Association' - a society for drivers who do not give a fuck about rules. And they start doing shit and drawing attention to themselves. What the fuck is gonna happen?
Two things.
Either:
A. They win and laws get ammended.
B. Nothing happens. But they get targeted. Systematically. The JPJ and the Police can call in the big guns - Tanks and Apache helicopters - and start blasting DMAs out of the roads.
The bigger you make yourself, the easier people can hit you.
Therefore:
1. Always, always, know the rules.
The most successful criminals in the world know the law better than lawyers. They know politics. They know public perception. You gotta do your homework in order to break rules, man. You can't simply break 'em.
You gotta know exactly what you're breaking. What you're going against.
2. Play within the rules.
Within the scope of public perception, the greatest player I have ever seen is Dr M.
He knows what the rules are, and he does whatever he wants, while abiding by those rules.
"I didn't fire my deputy, the courts charged him. I can't make an exception for one person. No one is above the law."
"Nasty people, they might say this guy is blablabla."
The guy's a genius. Always learn from geniuses. Don't learn from fucktards. Or people who get shot. Do you wanna get shot?
3. Subterfuge
If direct approaches don't seem to work, always go through the back door.
Traffic violators continue to do whatever they want, cause they know the rule is: YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT IN MALAYSIA. AS LONG AS YOU DON'T GET CAUGHT.
Create plausible deniabilities. Something that would stand in court. Court of law. Court of public perception.
Cause if you keep doing what you do, one day, if it becomes the norm, that could be the law. You can change the rules by respecting the rules. Rules are neither for you nor against you. They're neutral. And neutered. Rules are populist. They suck up to popular perception.
Oh, and then there's one more thing.
4. The neutrals.
Most people don't give a shit about your cause. People like me. Cause we have our own causes. And I don't expect any of you to give a fuck about my cause.
The last thing you want to do is shove your shit down our throats. Take it from me. I shoved my shit down people's throats before. Gag reflex, yo!
Yeah, man.
So know the rules. Play by the rules. Respect the rules. Let the neutrals make their own minds. And then do whatever you want. And don't get caught.
I mean, I'm sorry and all, but, I told you so.
I'm right, you're WRONG.
Can't help it, man.
If you are not entirely sure you can crush them, do not go directly against them.
David and Goliath is a romantist fantasy. But unless you're wielding a pretty mean slingshot, NO.
And now, headliners, yo!
People are dicks. The more you beat on them, the larger they get and the larger their egos get. And they do get a pleasure out of all this. While your hands get tired. Your muscles might develop, but only to masturbate more dicks.
Look at Barrack Hussein Obama. He did not make his race the focal point of his campaign. Oh, it's there on the table, all right, but he didn't trumpet it as widely as some idiots here would.
Why? Cause he knows the rules. He still needs that racist heartland vote. He still needs white people to vote for him, and he sure as hell is not going to alienate them. Cause they are still the majority.
This country has a different set of rules. Laws. And there are still people breaking them.
Example: speed limits. We have speed limits, and every day, people go over it. Some get caught. Some don't.
And most people who break it, they know full well what they're doing. And they would do it again, regardless whether they get caught or not.
They would still make that illegal u-turn, run red lights, even though it is CLEAR it is wrong.
And they do not face a nationwide persecution. Why? Cause there is no concerted effort to go and fight the authorities on this. Cause they know they will lose.
Say there is a 'Deviant Motorists Association' - a society for drivers who do not give a fuck about rules. And they start doing shit and drawing attention to themselves. What the fuck is gonna happen?
Two things.
Either:
A. They win and laws get ammended.
B. Nothing happens. But they get targeted. Systematically. The JPJ and the Police can call in the big guns - Tanks and Apache helicopters - and start blasting DMAs out of the roads.
The bigger you make yourself, the easier people can hit you.
Therefore:
1. Always, always, know the rules.
The most successful criminals in the world know the law better than lawyers. They know politics. They know public perception. You gotta do your homework in order to break rules, man. You can't simply break 'em.
You gotta know exactly what you're breaking. What you're going against.
2. Play within the rules.
Within the scope of public perception, the greatest player I have ever seen is Dr M.
He knows what the rules are, and he does whatever he wants, while abiding by those rules.
"I didn't fire my deputy, the courts charged him. I can't make an exception for one person. No one is above the law."
"Nasty people, they might say this guy is blablabla."
The guy's a genius. Always learn from geniuses. Don't learn from fucktards. Or people who get shot. Do you wanna get shot?
3. Subterfuge
If direct approaches don't seem to work, always go through the back door.
Traffic violators continue to do whatever they want, cause they know the rule is: YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT IN MALAYSIA. AS LONG AS YOU DON'T GET CAUGHT.
Create plausible deniabilities. Something that would stand in court. Court of law. Court of public perception.
Cause if you keep doing what you do, one day, if it becomes the norm, that could be the law. You can change the rules by respecting the rules. Rules are neither for you nor against you. They're neutral. And neutered. Rules are populist. They suck up to popular perception.
Oh, and then there's one more thing.
4. The neutrals.
Most people don't give a shit about your cause. People like me. Cause we have our own causes. And I don't expect any of you to give a fuck about my cause.
The last thing you want to do is shove your shit down our throats. Take it from me. I shoved my shit down people's throats before. Gag reflex, yo!
Yeah, man.
So know the rules. Play by the rules. Respect the rules. Let the neutrals make their own minds. And then do whatever you want. And don't get caught.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Anchorman
I'm a man! An anchorman!
I have a dick, which makes me better than those without dicks. At least, that's what a lot of the world thinks.
I know it's not fair, but hey, I refuse to let anything hold me back from claiming my birthright as someone who has a dick.
I worked hard for this dick, motherfucker! And I sure as hell am gonna enjoy it.
I am ever thankful to God for making me a man. Cause I get to fuck pussies. I mean, Lesbianism is all right and all...but I prefer using my dick.
Thanks, God. For making me a man. You the man.
As a man, I get more stuff. One of the reasons is the fact that I don't have all that victim hang-up and huge, huge pain-body that women seem to have.
I mean, us men, it's easy to make us happy. Food, sex and TV. It's that simple.
The world could go all to hell, but if I got Jessica Alba 69-ing me, while I munch on some pussy-flavoured wings and watching Boston Legal, I'd die happy.
With most women, it's about looking good and being desired and whatever the fuck they want.
Chris Rock said women, they want everything. Which is kinda stupid, cause you can't WANT everything. You can't HAVE everything. It's an illusion.
And if by some twisted miracle, you do get EVERYTHING. Then what, motherfucker? What else is there to want? Whatcha gonna do with EVERYTHING? Nothing, right? Whatever.
Women also have this fixation with pain and being victims. They bleed once a month. They get cramps. They get emotional and shit. So they are accustomed to pain. They're ADDICTED to pain.
They abuse themselves for other people. Usually for us, men. Sometimes, for the approval of other people. The amusement of other people. And they say I'm shallow.
They seem to think that it's some kind of holy sacrifice. And then they bitch and whine about it.
With us men, it's simple.
Me: Oh my God, what a crappy day! Emoemoemoemo.
I turn on the TV. Bam!
Me: I am Zen!
Or, in another day.
Me: Shit! What the fuck are they doing?
I got me some Seafood Liguini. Bam!
Me: I am Hakuin the Zen Master!
Or
Me: Nobody loves me! Boo hoo hoo!
Just add pussy.
Me: Who the fuck gives a shit? Somebody just sucked my dick!
Life doesn't have to be painful. Just add pussy.
I, for the life of me, can't understand why women moan and complain so much.
First of all, they got pussies!
If I was a woman, I'd buy a mirror and check myself out all day long.
And Chris Rock said, "Women got it good. Cause people will not NOT-FUCK you cause you're broke. Pussy is like Visa - accepted everywhere."
"Pussy costs money. Dick is free."
And freedom, is the right of all sentient beings.
I have a dick, which makes me better than those without dicks. At least, that's what a lot of the world thinks.
I know it's not fair, but hey, I refuse to let anything hold me back from claiming my birthright as someone who has a dick.
I worked hard for this dick, motherfucker! And I sure as hell am gonna enjoy it.
I am ever thankful to God for making me a man. Cause I get to fuck pussies. I mean, Lesbianism is all right and all...but I prefer using my dick.
Thanks, God. For making me a man. You the man.
As a man, I get more stuff. One of the reasons is the fact that I don't have all that victim hang-up and huge, huge pain-body that women seem to have.
I mean, us men, it's easy to make us happy. Food, sex and TV. It's that simple.
The world could go all to hell, but if I got Jessica Alba 69-ing me, while I munch on some pussy-flavoured wings and watching Boston Legal, I'd die happy.
With most women, it's about looking good and being desired and whatever the fuck they want.
Chris Rock said women, they want everything. Which is kinda stupid, cause you can't WANT everything. You can't HAVE everything. It's an illusion.
And if by some twisted miracle, you do get EVERYTHING. Then what, motherfucker? What else is there to want? Whatcha gonna do with EVERYTHING? Nothing, right? Whatever.
Women also have this fixation with pain and being victims. They bleed once a month. They get cramps. They get emotional and shit. So they are accustomed to pain. They're ADDICTED to pain.
They abuse themselves for other people. Usually for us, men. Sometimes, for the approval of other people. The amusement of other people. And they say I'm shallow.
They seem to think that it's some kind of holy sacrifice. And then they bitch and whine about it.
With us men, it's simple.
Me: Oh my God, what a crappy day! Emoemoemoemo.
I turn on the TV. Bam!
Me: I am Zen!
Or, in another day.
Me: Shit! What the fuck are they doing?
I got me some Seafood Liguini. Bam!
Me: I am Hakuin the Zen Master!
Or
Me: Nobody loves me! Boo hoo hoo!
Just add pussy.
Me: Who the fuck gives a shit? Somebody just sucked my dick!
Life doesn't have to be painful. Just add pussy.
I, for the life of me, can't understand why women moan and complain so much.
First of all, they got pussies!
If I was a woman, I'd buy a mirror and check myself out all day long.
And Chris Rock said, "Women got it good. Cause people will not NOT-FUCK you cause you're broke. Pussy is like Visa - accepted everywhere."
"Pussy costs money. Dick is free."
And freedom, is the right of all sentient beings.
The Wondering Jew
It is Saturday. A day of rest.
So I stay at home and I read comics, and I read books. I watch stuff on youtube.
I make some phone calls. I find out about stuff. I arrange stuff for next week.
I listen to Japanese jazz. Yoko Kanno, yo!
I re-read old books and old comics. I internalize the lines. I see how the scenes were arranged.
I watch Chris Rock and Howard Stern.
Some people called, invited me to go out with them. I will not.
I do not go out on the Sabbath.
I empty my mind and I hear the construction noise from next door. I become aware of my breathing.
I realize that the human body itches. Like how it was pointed out in The Terminal Experiment by Robert J Sawyer.
I have my food delivered from the cafe downstairs.
I listen to some Cajun bullshit.
I watch shows I like, and I figure out how they do it. The style AND the content.
Alam has always reminded me that I have a fixation with style, with form. That I am a stylish writer, and I may add that I can copy almost anyone. And come up with a few of my own.
Which throws the flipside on the question of content. Neil Gaiman postulates that ideas come from a confluence of ideas.
Like how glass is actually made from glass. Silicon from sand, yes, but they add broken glass to the mix nonetheless. And how artisan potters and bakers and artisan breadmakers alike always keep a portion of their clay or dough to mix with new batches. Some potters have kept a batch of clay for 20-30 years. It's because of the microbes in both clay and dough that makes for the desired optimum bubbles in the final creation.
And all my career, I have been dealing with storms of ideas. Small ideas, big ideas. Suicide ideas. For if you follow their trail, you might get lost and never come back.
Ideas are my clay. My dough.
And today, a Saturday, I keep stock and check up on my batches of clay.
So I stay at home and I read comics, and I read books. I watch stuff on youtube.
I make some phone calls. I find out about stuff. I arrange stuff for next week.
I listen to Japanese jazz. Yoko Kanno, yo!
I re-read old books and old comics. I internalize the lines. I see how the scenes were arranged.
I watch Chris Rock and Howard Stern.
Some people called, invited me to go out with them. I will not.
I do not go out on the Sabbath.
I empty my mind and I hear the construction noise from next door. I become aware of my breathing.
I realize that the human body itches. Like how it was pointed out in The Terminal Experiment by Robert J Sawyer.
I have my food delivered from the cafe downstairs.
I listen to some Cajun bullshit.
I watch shows I like, and I figure out how they do it. The style AND the content.
Alam has always reminded me that I have a fixation with style, with form. That I am a stylish writer, and I may add that I can copy almost anyone. And come up with a few of my own.
Which throws the flipside on the question of content. Neil Gaiman postulates that ideas come from a confluence of ideas.
Like how glass is actually made from glass. Silicon from sand, yes, but they add broken glass to the mix nonetheless. And how artisan potters and bakers and artisan breadmakers alike always keep a portion of their clay or dough to mix with new batches. Some potters have kept a batch of clay for 20-30 years. It's because of the microbes in both clay and dough that makes for the desired optimum bubbles in the final creation.
And all my career, I have been dealing with storms of ideas. Small ideas, big ideas. Suicide ideas. For if you follow their trail, you might get lost and never come back.
Ideas are my clay. My dough.
And today, a Saturday, I keep stock and check up on my batches of clay.
Man of Tomorrow: Master Bordello
As the future MB of Pahang, I have some plans that would change the lives of everyone.
First of all, conversion to alternative fuels.
The best way to make energy is to use lighter-than-air turbines, turning a dynamo 1,000 feet above sea-levels(where wind speeds are at a constant). A tether will conduct the electricity down to be stored in huge batteries.
Where it can be used to make energy carriers - hydrogen from water, or even compressed air. Or simply electricity in cartridges that can be loaded like bullets. Like a torchlight.
This will power the whole of Pahang. Her factories. Her cars. Her homes.
Furthermore, solar-panels can also be placed on the lighter-than-air helium-filled turbines. And Internet routers as well. Which will turn massive areas in Pahang as wifi-zones.
As Pahang has a large number of Orang Asli settlements, the Government can set-up free Skype video phones, even in jungles.
Meanwhile, various village economic projects can be managed by the Government. Like cage-fish-farming, for example. As Pahang has a lot of rivers and a lot of the settlements are at river banks and swamps.
The problem with existing programmes to help the poor fail at three stages:
1. At distribution, the Government selected the poorest of the poor. Which are the single mothers and single grandmothers. Or the handicapped. These people are poor because they cannot work. How can they manage and handle a fish-farming project?
The solution is to divide the distribution into two - half for the poorest of the poor, and half to the poor who can work. With the stipulation that the able-bodied ones have to make it work.
2. Management. Some projects were given without thinking or planning about what, how and who will manage it. There are also not enough resources given.
Fish-farming, you need to get funds to repair the nets and cages. A place to store food. Transportation to get food where you want it. You even need to construct a hut where the fish-farmers can sleep and pray, and do their nightly shifts.
3. Point of sale. So after a minimum of six months, and the fish are all grown, where do you sell it to? Relying on restaurants and hotels around Kuantan or any one city is suicide.
Plans should be done to market the fish in KL or even construct a service to freeze the fish and export them. Something like Halal Journal. Or get some of the hypermarkets to take them. Get a billion-dollar-deal with Giant or Carrefour or Tesco.
If all fish-farming projects, Government or privately-owned can band together under one cooperation, it will be an entity to be reckoned with.
And that's just fish. Emulating India, we can have co-ops for cow-herding, sheep-rearing, maize-planting, etc.
Cars are a-changing. Even today's cars have so many electronic parts in them that the mechanics of old are having difficulties repairing them.
Solution: get some of the car companies to hold workshops for simple maintenance for the willing and interested uneducated people. And some traditional mechanics as well. Tax-deductible, of course.
Force a franchise mechanic system, or get the companies to erect workshops all over the place. With local manpower. 70% local manpower. With continuous training.
It works for the motor industry, and it works for the people.
With the rise in hybrids and alternative-fuel cars, this will soon become a necessity.
Man, I am so cool. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go and suck my own dick.
First of all, conversion to alternative fuels.
The best way to make energy is to use lighter-than-air turbines, turning a dynamo 1,000 feet above sea-levels(where wind speeds are at a constant). A tether will conduct the electricity down to be stored in huge batteries.
Where it can be used to make energy carriers - hydrogen from water, or even compressed air. Or simply electricity in cartridges that can be loaded like bullets. Like a torchlight.
This will power the whole of Pahang. Her factories. Her cars. Her homes.
Furthermore, solar-panels can also be placed on the lighter-than-air helium-filled turbines. And Internet routers as well. Which will turn massive areas in Pahang as wifi-zones.
As Pahang has a large number of Orang Asli settlements, the Government can set-up free Skype video phones, even in jungles.
Meanwhile, various village economic projects can be managed by the Government. Like cage-fish-farming, for example. As Pahang has a lot of rivers and a lot of the settlements are at river banks and swamps.
The problem with existing programmes to help the poor fail at three stages:
1. At distribution, the Government selected the poorest of the poor. Which are the single mothers and single grandmothers. Or the handicapped. These people are poor because they cannot work. How can they manage and handle a fish-farming project?
The solution is to divide the distribution into two - half for the poorest of the poor, and half to the poor who can work. With the stipulation that the able-bodied ones have to make it work.
2. Management. Some projects were given without thinking or planning about what, how and who will manage it. There are also not enough resources given.
Fish-farming, you need to get funds to repair the nets and cages. A place to store food. Transportation to get food where you want it. You even need to construct a hut where the fish-farmers can sleep and pray, and do their nightly shifts.
3. Point of sale. So after a minimum of six months, and the fish are all grown, where do you sell it to? Relying on restaurants and hotels around Kuantan or any one city is suicide.
Plans should be done to market the fish in KL or even construct a service to freeze the fish and export them. Something like Halal Journal. Or get some of the hypermarkets to take them. Get a billion-dollar-deal with Giant or Carrefour or Tesco.
If all fish-farming projects, Government or privately-owned can band together under one cooperation, it will be an entity to be reckoned with.
And that's just fish. Emulating India, we can have co-ops for cow-herding, sheep-rearing, maize-planting, etc.
Cars are a-changing. Even today's cars have so many electronic parts in them that the mechanics of old are having difficulties repairing them.
Solution: get some of the car companies to hold workshops for simple maintenance for the willing and interested uneducated people. And some traditional mechanics as well. Tax-deductible, of course.
Force a franchise mechanic system, or get the companies to erect workshops all over the place. With local manpower. 70% local manpower. With continuous training.
It works for the motor industry, and it works for the people.
With the rise in hybrids and alternative-fuel cars, this will soon become a necessity.
Man, I am so cool. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go and suck my own dick.
True Blood
You gotta love the visual style. It captures Louisiana perfectly. And the song is done by a New Orleans musician.
And I grew up near a swamp. I'm Remy LaBeau, foo!
Tales from the Drunk Side: How to be Cool
I am the coolest motherfucker ever.
As the world's coolest person, I can teach all-a-you lame bitches how to be cool. But you won't learn. Cause you're stupid.
Oh well. What can I do?
First of all, coolness comes from within. It doesn't come from other people. It doesn't come from what other people think of you.
Some of you are populists. You pander to the audience. You WANT to be liked. You have a desire for people to have positive thoughts about you. You're pathetic.
Cause here's the truth:
No matter what you do, no matter what you say, there will always be people who agree or disagree with you. People are fickle. And people are unreliable.
People, they think about themselves. They don't think about you. They might - for two seconds a year. And then they forget.
Really cool people, like me, we don't give a fuck. Because we know no matter what you do, there's always a flip side. There is always another side to the story.
Even if you're saving drowning kids in Africa or raping drowning kids in Africa, there would still be people who think you're stupid.
Really cool people - like me - we accept and embrace the fact that people are petty and self-absorbed. Hell, I revel in being self-absorbed.
If you focus on people, you die. Or go crazy. How long do you want to live as slaves to public perception? Been there. Done that. Good luck, and good night.
Focus, instead, on your dick. On yourself. Like me.
The more you love yourself, the more people would love you. They would suck your dick. That's the secret of being cool. And I'm really cool.
The second thing is this: coolness doesn't matter. It's not worth a damn squat.
When you put too much importance on trying to be cool, you suck. TRYING to be cool, you are not cool.
Look at me. I don't try. I'm just cool. I can't help it. I'm sorry, man, I'm just the greatest ever.
I'm like, so cool, when I go to hell, they have to install heaters. And wear sweaters.
Oh well. What to do?
As the world's coolest person, I can teach all-a-you lame bitches how to be cool. But you won't learn. Cause you're stupid.
Oh well. What can I do?
First of all, coolness comes from within. It doesn't come from other people. It doesn't come from what other people think of you.
Some of you are populists. You pander to the audience. You WANT to be liked. You have a desire for people to have positive thoughts about you. You're pathetic.
Cause here's the truth:
No matter what you do, no matter what you say, there will always be people who agree or disagree with you. People are fickle. And people are unreliable.
People, they think about themselves. They don't think about you. They might - for two seconds a year. And then they forget.
Really cool people, like me, we don't give a fuck. Because we know no matter what you do, there's always a flip side. There is always another side to the story.
Even if you're saving drowning kids in Africa or raping drowning kids in Africa, there would still be people who think you're stupid.
Really cool people - like me - we accept and embrace the fact that people are petty and self-absorbed. Hell, I revel in being self-absorbed.
If you focus on people, you die. Or go crazy. How long do you want to live as slaves to public perception? Been there. Done that. Good luck, and good night.
Focus, instead, on your dick. On yourself. Like me.
The more you love yourself, the more people would love you. They would suck your dick. That's the secret of being cool. And I'm really cool.
The second thing is this: coolness doesn't matter. It's not worth a damn squat.
When you put too much importance on trying to be cool, you suck. TRYING to be cool, you are not cool.
Look at me. I don't try. I'm just cool. I can't help it. I'm sorry, man, I'm just the greatest ever.
I'm like, so cool, when I go to hell, they have to install heaters. And wear sweaters.
Oh well. What to do?
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tales from the Drunk Side:
As the world's greatest writer, I must say I am quite pleased with my work this week.
I managed to do a Herculean amount of shit. You wouldn't believe what I did.
I read some shit as well. A lot of shit.
Again, I amaze myself.
I am just that damn good.
I see stormclouds in the horizon, though.
I see a lot of things still left to be done. I am not finished yet.
This is just the tip of my dick. Wait till it's full thrust time, bitch!
When it comes full swing, you will know my name as the Lord! When I lay my penis upon thee.
Oh well. In the meantime, I have my good ol' Jaka Denial. And Coke.
I managed to do a Herculean amount of shit. You wouldn't believe what I did.
I read some shit as well. A lot of shit.
Again, I amaze myself.
I am just that damn good.
I see stormclouds in the horizon, though.
I see a lot of things still left to be done. I am not finished yet.
This is just the tip of my dick. Wait till it's full thrust time, bitch!
When it comes full swing, you will know my name as the Lord! When I lay my penis upon thee.
Oh well. In the meantime, I have my good ol' Jaka Denial. And Coke.
Hanya Tuhan yang Tahu...
"Kau tahu tak?" Aku dah mula emo.
"Berapa banyak aku berkorban untuk kau?"
"Aku duduk kat sini, bukan pasal aku nak. Tapi pasal aku rasa bertanggungjawab. Pasal aku mulia. Mulianya aku."
"Tapi, sikit pun kau tak peduli. Sikit pun kau tak keluar. Dah berapa banyak masa, tenaga, linangan air mata aku? Aku perah keringat aku! AKu kerah semangat aku! Semata-mata untuk kau, tau tak?"
"Bukan aku pinta kau berterima kasih kat aku. Bukan aku pinta, lahir ke dunia. Bukan aku pinta...kacak begini! Kau tau tak?"
Akhirnya, dia keluar jua.
"Paham pun," kata aku, sambil memadamkan api rokok.
Aku pun flush.
Lepas tu basuh jubur.
Lega rasanya.
"Berapa banyak aku berkorban untuk kau?"
"Aku duduk kat sini, bukan pasal aku nak. Tapi pasal aku rasa bertanggungjawab. Pasal aku mulia. Mulianya aku."
"Tapi, sikit pun kau tak peduli. Sikit pun kau tak keluar. Dah berapa banyak masa, tenaga, linangan air mata aku? Aku perah keringat aku! AKu kerah semangat aku! Semata-mata untuk kau, tau tak?"
"Bukan aku pinta kau berterima kasih kat aku. Bukan aku pinta, lahir ke dunia. Bukan aku pinta...kacak begini! Kau tau tak?"
Akhirnya, dia keluar jua.
"Paham pun," kata aku, sambil memadamkan api rokok.
Aku pun flush.
Lepas tu basuh jubur.
Lega rasanya.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Zeroes
Previously, on Zeroes...
"I...am Hayden Christensen. And I...am a cheerleader!"
Me: Fuck you, Hayden Christensen!
Hayden Christensen: I can heal myself. Regenerative abilities, baby! Healing factor!
Me: Oh. Really? Imma kick your ass, bitch.
So I kicked his ass. Again. And again.
HC: Aren't...you...going to eat my brain?
Me: Claire, that's disgusting. And you sucked on Star Wars.
HC: My name is...Hayden Christensen. It's not Claire...OOF!
Me: Stupid pretty boy. Regenerate THIS!
Missy Elliot: I...am Missy Elliot! And I can manipulate the space time continuum!
Me: Oh Yeah? Git back into prison, bitch! Go marmalade some pussies, you fucking ho!
Missy: That's Lil' Kim, you idiot!
Mo-Sunder Raj: Hi. I am Mo-Sunder Raj, who is the brother of Mo-Keevan Raj.
Me: I don't give a shit. Bam!
MR: Ah! You shot me!
Me: With MIND bullets!
MR: Oh yeah. You shot me...With MIND bullets!
Me: Goddamn fuckers who can't even memorize their scripts. So who's next? Huh? Who's next?
Nikki Sanders: I am Nikki Sanders! And I can fry chikins fast! I'm finger-lickin' good!
Me: I will use my super-richness and hire an assassin to kill you, cause I sure as hell not touching those puppies.
Assassin: Bam!
AL: AHHH! Your wealth powers are stronger than my chikin powers!
Horn-Rimmed Glasses Guy: I am Noah! I wear Horn-Rimmed Glasses!
Me: Imma rip those glasses and smash 'em. Mash 'em!
HRG: Noooo! I can't see!
The dreaded genocide has already occured. So there is no reason for this series to continue. The world is dead. Tough. Now live with it.
"I...am Hayden Christensen. And I...am a cheerleader!"
Me: Fuck you, Hayden Christensen!
Hayden Christensen: I can heal myself. Regenerative abilities, baby! Healing factor!
Me: Oh. Really? Imma kick your ass, bitch.
So I kicked his ass. Again. And again.
HC: Aren't...you...going to eat my brain?
Me: Claire, that's disgusting. And you sucked on Star Wars.
HC: My name is...Hayden Christensen. It's not Claire...OOF!
Me: Stupid pretty boy. Regenerate THIS!
Missy Elliot: I...am Missy Elliot! And I can manipulate the space time continuum!
Me: Oh Yeah? Git back into prison, bitch! Go marmalade some pussies, you fucking ho!
Missy: That's Lil' Kim, you idiot!
Mo-Sunder Raj: Hi. I am Mo-Sunder Raj, who is the brother of Mo-Keevan Raj.
Me: I don't give a shit. Bam!
MR: Ah! You shot me!
Me: With MIND bullets!
MR: Oh yeah. You shot me...With MIND bullets!
Me: Goddamn fuckers who can't even memorize their scripts. So who's next? Huh? Who's next?
Nikki Sanders: I am Nikki Sanders! And I can fry chikins fast! I'm finger-lickin' good!
Me: I will use my super-richness and hire an assassin to kill you, cause I sure as hell not touching those puppies.
Assassin: Bam!
AL: AHHH! Your wealth powers are stronger than my chikin powers!
Horn-Rimmed Glasses Guy: I am Noah! I wear Horn-Rimmed Glasses!
Me: Imma rip those glasses and smash 'em. Mash 'em!
HRG: Noooo! I can't see!
The dreaded genocide has already occured. So there is no reason for this series to continue. The world is dead. Tough. Now live with it.
Monyet Mencuri Buah Pic
Aku sering mengagumkan diri aku sendiri.
Dahlah kacak, sasa, seksi, berketrampilan, konek kuat, jubur harum...genius...penyabar pulak tu!
Kata orang, sabar itu separuh dari iman.
Dan aku memang tak beriman. Pasal aku syaitan.
Tapi aku sabar! Gilalah!
Memang cool habis la aku ni.
Lagi cool dari akubimbo.blogspot.com.
Aku kagum sendiri dengan diri aku. Memang hebat la aku ni.
Heh, thanks, Tuhan. Pasal buat aku best.
You the man, lah.
Dahlah kacak, sasa, seksi, berketrampilan, konek kuat, jubur harum...genius...penyabar pulak tu!
Kata orang, sabar itu separuh dari iman.
Dan aku memang tak beriman. Pasal aku syaitan.
Tapi aku sabar! Gilalah!
Memang cool habis la aku ni.
Lagi cool dari akubimbo.blogspot.com.
Aku kagum sendiri dengan diri aku. Memang hebat la aku ni.
Heh, thanks, Tuhan. Pasal buat aku best.
You the man, lah.
Sejenak Bersama Sasterawan Negara: KL Mencarut
Dulu, aku sukakan bandar ini.
Nasi ayam kedai cina tepi jalan seolah lebih sedap dengan bumbu asap motokar dan habuk jalan.
Bahang panas Kotaraya yang datang dari atas, bawah dan sisi seolah mengesahkan kewujudan aku.
Menitik peluh dan air liur aku.
Sekarang, rasa seperti mata yang bakal menitiskan air.
Bergenang di kelopak bawah.
Pelacur-pelacur telah digantikan dengan pondan-pondan jalanan.
Ya Tuhan! Di manakah keadilan?
Di mana ayam-ayam siam? Di mana ayam-ayam Cina dan Batam?
Sudahkah ditelan kegelapan malam?
Dulu, aku sukakan bandar ini.
Ketua Saintis Dunia di Pantai Dalam.
Makcik Konsert di setiap acara besar.
Mamat India buta dan gila asyik mintak nasi goreng dua ringgit dekat Telawi Street Bistro.
Mana ada dah, nasi goreng dua ringgit, bai.
Mintak la beer ke, Pinot Noir ke. Mesti si celaka-si celaka tu bagi.
Dulu, aku sukakan bandar ini.
Nasi ayam kedai cina tepi jalan seolah lebih sedap dengan bumbu asap motokar dan habuk jalan.
Bahang panas Kotaraya yang datang dari atas, bawah dan sisi seolah mengesahkan kewujudan aku.
Menitik peluh dan air liur aku.
Sekarang, rasa seperti mata yang bakal menitiskan air.
Bergenang di kelopak bawah.
Pelacur-pelacur telah digantikan dengan pondan-pondan jalanan.
Ya Tuhan! Di manakah keadilan?
Di mana ayam-ayam siam? Di mana ayam-ayam Cina dan Batam?
Sudahkah ditelan kegelapan malam?
Dulu, aku sukakan bandar ini.
Ketua Saintis Dunia di Pantai Dalam.
Makcik Konsert di setiap acara besar.
Mamat India buta dan gila asyik mintak nasi goreng dua ringgit dekat Telawi Street Bistro.
Mana ada dah, nasi goreng dua ringgit, bai.
Mintak la beer ke, Pinot Noir ke. Mesti si celaka-si celaka tu bagi.
Dulu, aku sukakan bandar ini.
Teratai Merah Terlantar di Luar Pagar
Hari ni, aku bangun dengan keinginan untuk bawak keluar parang dan bunuh orang.
Rasa macam palat.
Jadi, aku meminimumkan interaksi dengan manusia.
Aku hanya buat kerja aku.
Kalau ada yang terjerit-jerit pinta perhatian, pasal muka tak cukup lawa, aku pekakkan telinga.
Tak sedar pun kehadiran orang lain.
Makan tengahari pun, aku beli roti dengan air je.
Aku memang anti-sosial hari ni. Sesapa yang buat taik, aku bunuh kang.
Mujur pasal aku tak peduli, umat manusia masih selamat.
Mujur aku pernah baca komik Buddha.
Fokus. Kerja aku siap sejam sebelum masanya.
Aku uruskan beberapa benda lain.
Kemudian, cukup masa, aku berambus.
Tanggungjawab aku dah sempurna. Apa nak kecoh?
Lepas itu, aku ke Bangsar. Nak angkat miasma ni.
Aku bukan budak emo yang gay.
Takde masa nak layan perasaan.
Aku ke sini pun, demi tugas. Chewah!
Macam askar la. Askar Jerman.
Banyak benda aku buat, behind the scenes. Di sebalik tabir. Orang tak nampak.
Aku kisah apa? Pukimak mak bapak kau la.
Rasa macam palat.
Jadi, aku meminimumkan interaksi dengan manusia.
Aku hanya buat kerja aku.
Kalau ada yang terjerit-jerit pinta perhatian, pasal muka tak cukup lawa, aku pekakkan telinga.
Tak sedar pun kehadiran orang lain.
Makan tengahari pun, aku beli roti dengan air je.
Aku memang anti-sosial hari ni. Sesapa yang buat taik, aku bunuh kang.
Mujur pasal aku tak peduli, umat manusia masih selamat.
Mujur aku pernah baca komik Buddha.
Fokus. Kerja aku siap sejam sebelum masanya.
Aku uruskan beberapa benda lain.
Kemudian, cukup masa, aku berambus.
Tanggungjawab aku dah sempurna. Apa nak kecoh?
Lepas itu, aku ke Bangsar. Nak angkat miasma ni.
Aku bukan budak emo yang gay.
Takde masa nak layan perasaan.
Aku ke sini pun, demi tugas. Chewah!
Macam askar la. Askar Jerman.
Banyak benda aku buat, behind the scenes. Di sebalik tabir. Orang tak nampak.
Aku kisah apa? Pukimak mak bapak kau la.
Mabuk-mabuk Kepayang: Seribu Pedang Pulang ke Asal
Novel-novel Melayu yang aku pernah baca semuanya penuh babak mengelamun.
Tak sampai dua mukasurat, ada saja orang mengelamun.
Merpati Putih Terbang Lagi - Khadijah Hashim. Buku yang aku jumpa dalam bilik kakak aku. Dah takde kulit.
Pasal sorang mamat ni yang cuba tolong orang Melayu kat Kampung Simpang Empat. AKu ingat adik dia nama Agus. Macam burger je nama, aku ingat masa tu.
Gerhana di Hati - Adam Kadir. Aku baca buku ni pasal ADUN tempat aku yang tulis. Hahaha. Adam A Kadir.
Tapi, aku memang suka. Pasal watak utama, Rawi, meninggalkan bapaknya yang tak pernah menghargainya untuk belajar di Amerika Syarikat.
Kelapa Nan Sebatang. Antologi cerpen dan mungkin puisi kot? Aku budak sains. Bukan budak sains sosial. Aku tak sosial, dan aku tak sial.
Yang aku ingat ialah pantun dalam cerpen Gulai Rawo.
Gulai Lomak masakan Rawo,
Tumbuk lado segonggam godang;
Kok awok raso penganen kito,
Indakkan lupo jalan nan datang
Cerita pasal gulai ikan, tapi jugak pasal asal-usul dan nostalgia
Indakkan lupo jalan nan datang.
Bagi aku, maksudnya, jangan lupa asal-usul la. Bukan pasal jangan lupa nak datang rumah pasal nak makan ikan. Apahal lu mat?
Asal-usul.
Moyang aku, sorang datang dari Pattani. Cikgu agama. Hahaha. Arab campur Siam. Kira bila aku pergi Siam, seribu pedang pulang ke asal la. Yang seorang lagi, dari Indonesia. Orang Bugis bangsawan. Bangsawan, beb.
Datuk belah bapak aku datang dari Guangzhou. Kot?
Nama Cina aku ialah Fong. Tapi tulisan dia iras perkataan untuk kuda, yang kalau dalam bahasa Kantonis sepatutnya 'ma'.
Apa-apa hal pun, kalau aku diberi nama Cina, aku nak pilih Fong Sai Yuk kot.
Keluarga belah mak aku kebanyakkannya cikgu. Sebab diorang pentingkan pelajaran. Mak aku antara satu-satunya anak perempuan dalam puak dia yang pergi sampai sekolah menengah.
Bapak aku cikgu. Tapi keluarga dia kebanyakannya pomen kereta.
Kalau kat Kuantan, nak repair air-cond, pergi kat sepupu aku. Nak repair enjin, pergi kat seorang pakcik aku. Nak buat badan kereta dan cat, ada seorang lagi.
Kira kalau diorang bergabung, boleh pasang kereta lengkap la.
Keluarga aku sekarang - separuh jadi cikgu. Lepas bapak aku bersara, kakak dengan abang aku masuk Jabatan Pendidikan. Diorang ambik ijazah masa kerja.
Keluarga aku tak pernah kaya, walaupun Tun Razak ialah sepupu datuk aku. Bermakna aku anak sedara dua pupu Najib. Patut dah jutawan dah ni. Hahaha.
Aku tanya ahli keluarga aku, "Camana nak contact Najib?"
"Kau nak buat apa jumpa dia?"
"Nak jadi jutawan."
"Fuck you! Money can't buy everything. Money can't buy me."
Dah, kena 'fuck you'.
Ni masalah keluarga aku. Dulu, datuk aku dengan Tun Razak berjuang untuk kemerdekaan sama-sama.
Masa dia nak ke KL, dia jumpa dulu datuk aku. Ajak dia join sekali. Datuk aku taknak. Pasal dia lebih suka menjaga kebun durian dia.
Aku macam, "What the fuck?!"
Masa Tun Razak nak buat Penyata Razak, dia jumpa datuk aku lagi. Ajak dia sekali lagi. Datuk aku masih taknak.
ARRGGGHHHH!!!
Kalau tak, aku dah boleh menjual ke-Melayu-an aku untuk duit berjuta-juta. Politik wang, yo! Aku boleh jual Malaysia kat orang Singapura.
Aish. Kena la membanting tulang kalau nak jadi jutawan. Pukimak betul la.
Datuk aku boleh berbahasa Arab, dan Bahasa Inggeris. Dia selalu nak ajar aku, tapi aku lebih minat tengok TV masa tu. Ksatria Baja Hitam, yo!
Keluarga nenek aku pulak dulu merupakan pemilik tanah yang berjaya. Masa zaman sebelum perang, diorang bela lembu. Ratus-ratus ekor.
Masa Jepun datang, dan omputih blah lepas takut tengok orang Jepun naik basikal, makanan takde.
Jadi diorang tolong orang dengan jual lembu-lembu tu kat orang kampung. Pasal duit takde, dan duit pokok pisang nilainya macam 4 juta untuk sepuluh sen, ada yang bayar pakai tanah.
Jadi lepas perang, dari jadi pemilik lembu, jadi pemilik tanah.
Entah kemana dah tanah-tanahnya tu. Biasalah, Melayu.
Bapak aku sakit lagi baru-baru ni. Tapi dia memang macam tu. Doktor pernah cakap dia takkan hidup lama, masa umur dia 40++.
Sekarang dah nak masuk 70. Hidup je lagi. Ok je.
Tapi lepas dia kena diagnosis tu, dia sembahyang tak tinggal. Tak tidur malam. Minum kopi macam air. Lepas Subuh baru dia tidur.
Aku nak balik la, Raya Haji ni.
Nak ambik cuti seminggu. Kepala aku pun macam nak meletup. Aku nak tidur. Bangun tengahari atau petang. Makan. Pastu tidur balik.
Ada banyak lagi benda yang aku kena perjuangkan. Chewah! Yang aku pilih untuk perjuangkan. Humangai. Pasal kalau bukan aku, sapa lagi?
Biar aku digelar syaitan. Fuh! Namun akan aku perah kelapa menjadi santan.
Ni kalau tak dapat Sasterawan Negara, tak tau la.
Tak sampai dua mukasurat, ada saja orang mengelamun.
Merpati Putih Terbang Lagi - Khadijah Hashim. Buku yang aku jumpa dalam bilik kakak aku. Dah takde kulit.
Pasal sorang mamat ni yang cuba tolong orang Melayu kat Kampung Simpang Empat. AKu ingat adik dia nama Agus. Macam burger je nama, aku ingat masa tu.
Gerhana di Hati - Adam Kadir. Aku baca buku ni pasal ADUN tempat aku yang tulis. Hahaha. Adam A Kadir.
Tapi, aku memang suka. Pasal watak utama, Rawi, meninggalkan bapaknya yang tak pernah menghargainya untuk belajar di Amerika Syarikat.
Kelapa Nan Sebatang. Antologi cerpen dan mungkin puisi kot? Aku budak sains. Bukan budak sains sosial. Aku tak sosial, dan aku tak sial.
Yang aku ingat ialah pantun dalam cerpen Gulai Rawo.
Gulai Lomak masakan Rawo,
Tumbuk lado segonggam godang;
Kok awok raso penganen kito,
Indakkan lupo jalan nan datang
Cerita pasal gulai ikan, tapi jugak pasal asal-usul dan nostalgia
Indakkan lupo jalan nan datang.
Bagi aku, maksudnya, jangan lupa asal-usul la. Bukan pasal jangan lupa nak datang rumah pasal nak makan ikan. Apahal lu mat?
Asal-usul.
Moyang aku, sorang datang dari Pattani. Cikgu agama. Hahaha. Arab campur Siam. Kira bila aku pergi Siam, seribu pedang pulang ke asal la. Yang seorang lagi, dari Indonesia. Orang Bugis bangsawan. Bangsawan, beb.
Datuk belah bapak aku datang dari Guangzhou. Kot?
Nama Cina aku ialah Fong. Tapi tulisan dia iras perkataan untuk kuda, yang kalau dalam bahasa Kantonis sepatutnya 'ma'.
Apa-apa hal pun, kalau aku diberi nama Cina, aku nak pilih Fong Sai Yuk kot.
Keluarga belah mak aku kebanyakkannya cikgu. Sebab diorang pentingkan pelajaran. Mak aku antara satu-satunya anak perempuan dalam puak dia yang pergi sampai sekolah menengah.
Bapak aku cikgu. Tapi keluarga dia kebanyakannya pomen kereta.
Kalau kat Kuantan, nak repair air-cond, pergi kat sepupu aku. Nak repair enjin, pergi kat seorang pakcik aku. Nak buat badan kereta dan cat, ada seorang lagi.
Kira kalau diorang bergabung, boleh pasang kereta lengkap la.
Keluarga aku sekarang - separuh jadi cikgu. Lepas bapak aku bersara, kakak dengan abang aku masuk Jabatan Pendidikan. Diorang ambik ijazah masa kerja.
Keluarga aku tak pernah kaya, walaupun Tun Razak ialah sepupu datuk aku. Bermakna aku anak sedara dua pupu Najib. Patut dah jutawan dah ni. Hahaha.
Aku tanya ahli keluarga aku, "Camana nak contact Najib?"
"Kau nak buat apa jumpa dia?"
"Nak jadi jutawan."
"Fuck you! Money can't buy everything. Money can't buy me."
Dah, kena 'fuck you'.
Ni masalah keluarga aku. Dulu, datuk aku dengan Tun Razak berjuang untuk kemerdekaan sama-sama.
Masa dia nak ke KL, dia jumpa dulu datuk aku. Ajak dia join sekali. Datuk aku taknak. Pasal dia lebih suka menjaga kebun durian dia.
Aku macam, "What the fuck?!"
Masa Tun Razak nak buat Penyata Razak, dia jumpa datuk aku lagi. Ajak dia sekali lagi. Datuk aku masih taknak.
ARRGGGHHHH!!!
Kalau tak, aku dah boleh menjual ke-Melayu-an aku untuk duit berjuta-juta. Politik wang, yo! Aku boleh jual Malaysia kat orang Singapura.
Aish. Kena la membanting tulang kalau nak jadi jutawan. Pukimak betul la.
Datuk aku boleh berbahasa Arab, dan Bahasa Inggeris. Dia selalu nak ajar aku, tapi aku lebih minat tengok TV masa tu. Ksatria Baja Hitam, yo!
Keluarga nenek aku pulak dulu merupakan pemilik tanah yang berjaya. Masa zaman sebelum perang, diorang bela lembu. Ratus-ratus ekor.
Masa Jepun datang, dan omputih blah lepas takut tengok orang Jepun naik basikal, makanan takde.
Jadi diorang tolong orang dengan jual lembu-lembu tu kat orang kampung. Pasal duit takde, dan duit pokok pisang nilainya macam 4 juta untuk sepuluh sen, ada yang bayar pakai tanah.
Jadi lepas perang, dari jadi pemilik lembu, jadi pemilik tanah.
Entah kemana dah tanah-tanahnya tu. Biasalah, Melayu.
Bapak aku sakit lagi baru-baru ni. Tapi dia memang macam tu. Doktor pernah cakap dia takkan hidup lama, masa umur dia 40++.
Sekarang dah nak masuk 70. Hidup je lagi. Ok je.
Tapi lepas dia kena diagnosis tu, dia sembahyang tak tinggal. Tak tidur malam. Minum kopi macam air. Lepas Subuh baru dia tidur.
Aku nak balik la, Raya Haji ni.
Nak ambik cuti seminggu. Kepala aku pun macam nak meletup. Aku nak tidur. Bangun tengahari atau petang. Makan. Pastu tidur balik.
Ada banyak lagi benda yang aku kena perjuangkan. Chewah! Yang aku pilih untuk perjuangkan. Humangai. Pasal kalau bukan aku, sapa lagi?
Biar aku digelar syaitan. Fuh! Namun akan aku perah kelapa menjadi santan.
Ni kalau tak dapat Sasterawan Negara, tak tau la.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Degeneration M: MahaMania Rules Forever!
So yeah, I am a Mahathirist. I am proud to call myself that. I do not care if it exists or not.
You have a problem with that? Suck my dick.
I was born in 1980. I grew up under the rule of Dr M. He is the ONLY politician whom I have tons of respect for.
People said he couldn't do shit. He didn't give a fuck, and did them anyway. And most of the time, it worked.
He wasn't some populist bullshit who would pander to the audience. He won't go with the popular. He would go with what is right.
In 1985, I asked my father, "So are we getting a new car, nigga?"
My father said, "Nah. The pomen (mechanic. Bastardisation of 'foreman') told me the engines would heat up easily."
20 years later, those same mechanics were driving Protons.
Sure, I think Proton is a silly name. A positive charged ion. What the fuck? Well, so is Volkswagen - the people's car. But VWs are cool and sexy.
And Proton, it worked. For a time.
Yeah, yeah. Say all you want.
"Ooh. It only succeeded because of the NAP."
"It's just Dr M helping out his friends."
Well, it WORKED motherfucker! It worked. Whatever he was aiming for, it worked.
And most of his detractors bought the car anyway. Some are even driving in it right now.
In yo face!
I read the newspapers everyday, starting when I was seven. Everyday there would be stuff that Dr M announced. And all of them made sense.
I don't read him backing out of an entirely untrue statement a few weeks later, like SOME people.
He never did sell any of Malaysia's important companies to Singapore.
The biggest sign, though, was that there were not many grouses under him. People will always whine, regardless of how good they get it. Or don't get.
But Dr M, he made sure the racist motherfuckers were kept in check. Kept in line.
You a racist? Bam! You die, motherfucker.
And you can't argue with him, cause he knows verbal tai-chi. ANwar is all fire and brimstone.
"Saya akan LAWAN BALIK!!!"
Fuck you.
Dr M is like a tsunami.
"I didn't fire my deputy. The courts charged him. What, you want me to make an exception just cause he's my deputy?"
Ooh! Face! This is MY house! Don't you be bringin' that weak ass shit here.
And yeah, some people try to say that Dr M is NOT Malay. That he is at the very least mixed.
Well, to tell you the truth, I have never met a pure Malay.
Malays are always mixed. That's why we are so good-looking.
Take me, for instance. I am half-Chinese and half-Malay. On my mother's Malay side, there is Bugis and Pattani blood. My great grandfather was an Islamic teacher from Thailand.
Whenever I ask people, they would always say, "I'm a Javanese-Malay." "I'm a Bugis-Malay." "I'm a fill-in-the-blank Malay."
Malays are a group of people who decided hundreds of years ago to become a race because they were living in the same place.
Routes instead of roots, yo!
And the ever polite and hospitable Malays will accept whatever you identify with, under one banner. That's why I believe that in a very short time, we have accepted everyone as Malaysians. Because you and me - we are the same, under the Constitution. As long each and every one of us consider ourselves Malaysian.
And the faster other ethnicities embrace the Malaysianness without all the hangups, without all the whining, the faster the assimilation would be. A real Malaysian Malaysia, without the racist undertones.
So Dr M, he's Malay. A bloody smart one, at that.
He's always calm when he makes his statements. I never saw him fumble. I saw him cry on national TV a few times. But he never wavered.
Believe it or not, he did not force his beliefs down people's throats. He did not like money politics - or should we just call it corruption instead? He asked them to stop. He cried once or twice, asking them to stop. They refused to listen.
And look now where we at?
And still, he helped people. Even though in the end, they would backstab him. They would spit on his face and his legacy. He didn't go ballistic, though I can only imagine what that would have been like.
Despite all the abuse hurled his way, his retaliation was minimal. Sure, there were confiscated computers and Ops Lalang. But another in his stead would have done worse.
For example: Me. I am not in favour of the ISA. If I was the PM, I would abolish the ISA and start killing whoever annoyed me.
If I ever come into power, and if you're a hypocrite racist, watch out. I will kill you and your family. And I will make it look like an accident. What the hell. I'll make it look like an accident, and then hang your skulls on my front gates. Man, I need me a large gate. A loooong one. A RM20 million one. Just so I could put the heads of people who annoy me on them.
Dr M did not do that. I was surprised. Shocked. I thought they said he was MahaZalim. That's not MahaZalim.
And Dr M, he listened to Eminem.
I was reading the newspaper from back to front one day, in my youth, and then I saw a news item about Dr M and Eminem.
I immediately called my friend Cheepork.
Me: Hey! Dr M listens to Eminem!
Cheepork: What?
Me: Dr M. He listens to Eminem.
C: What did he say?
Me: Well, he hates it. Thinks it's a bad influence. But he listened to the songs.
C: Cool beans!
No one has ever said anything bad about Dr M on a public platform without getting egg on their faces.
He always has this backhanded, calm way of saying something without saying it.
"Oh, it would be a shame if some nasty people were to say that blablabla." And he's the one who just said the blablabla.
"It would be a shame if it were made known that this guy blablabla." And he's the one who said it!
Dr M is STILL the only leader I look up to.
MahaMania STILL Rules!
Degeneration M: I Am a Mahathirist
I am a Mahathirist.
Whether it exists or not.
So fuck you!
I agree with almost everything Dr M did. Ops Lalang? I would have killed people, not take them away.
In fact, if I was Dr M, I would have killed Anwar. When I had the power. And then blame it on PIS-M.
"They killed my protege. My successor. They took him away from me. Boo hoo hoo!"
Instant victim. Victory!
Dr M was not enough of a Mahathirist. He did great things for the country, and in my opinion the best Prime Minister ever.
But he had too big a heart. His heart was too soft. He is a superhero. He wanted to save people.
Even if those people were to backstab him, in the end.
Whether it exists or not.
So fuck you!
I agree with almost everything Dr M did. Ops Lalang? I would have killed people, not take them away.
In fact, if I was Dr M, I would have killed Anwar. When I had the power. And then blame it on PIS-M.
"They killed my protege. My successor. They took him away from me. Boo hoo hoo!"
Instant victim. Victory!
Dr M was not enough of a Mahathirist. He did great things for the country, and in my opinion the best Prime Minister ever.
But he had too big a heart. His heart was too soft. He is a superhero. He wanted to save people.
Even if those people were to backstab him, in the end.
Wheel of Fortune
Round and round it goes.
Where it stops? Nobody knows.
Big wheels keep on turning, man. Big wheels.
Cryptic? Cause I am so cool.
Where it stops? Nobody knows.
Big wheels keep on turning, man. Big wheels.
Cryptic? Cause I am so cool.
Degeneration M: Making Wrong
Being right has an ugly step-sister. Making wrong.
You make out other people as wrong, paint an unflattering image of them, and in so doing, you feel a false sense of superiority and therefore inaccurately believe that you are better than them.
As an expert in righteousness - been living it all my life - believe me that this is true. I am right. And if you think otherwise, you are wrong.
In Malaysia, this is often called 'politics'. Notice that Malaysian politicians are almost like apes. They have opposable thumbs, but they only know one or two tricks. Most noticably, chucking shit.
Essentially, all political campaigns in Malaysia boil down to this: "That person is badddd. Vote for me!"
Let's look at Anwaristas and UMNOputras and DAPIS-M.
Anwaristas often point out at the real or imaginary - but as yet unproven - rampant corruption perpetrated by the BN government. Even if it is EASY to believe that EVERY single thing is corrupt in this country, a question begs to be asked - where is the proof?
The world IS fucked up, yes. But if you believe strongly in something, there is always a better way to get it done rather than JUST whining about it. Whine all you want, but DO something. Anything.
Anyway, Anwaristas will essentially say, "These people are corrupt! Let's all suck Anwar's cock-a-maney stories!"
UMNOPutras, meanwhile, will point out to other people as extremists. As in, "Anwar is an EXTREME homo!", "PIS-M are EXTREME Islams!", "DAP are EXTREME racists. I mean, racialists!"
While these may or may not be true, UMNOPutras would do better for the happiness of the country and the world if they were to focus on how good they are and what they are doing rather than see the speck in their brother's eyes.
DAP and PIS-M are, in my opinion, too spiteful, too hateful, that I do not even want to go there. I find them like poison. That's just how I feel.
As Dr M pointed out, these people - these apes - do these things because it works. It got them the votes. That we should not blame them.
I am not blaming them. I simply think they should be held accountable for the hate they have perpetrated. The selfishness. These people put their political careers above everything else, including poisoning the psyche of the people.
They don't really care about you. They care about themselves.
This is why I have maintained that politicians and politics have failed us.
Malaysians have large pain-bodies. Everyone thinks of themselves as victims of a sort.
Having a target to blame - a scapegoat - shifts the focus and justifies every bad thing happening in their lives. They are naturally lazy. So instead of doing something about their conditions or predicament, they wait for other people to change or to make changes. Their laziness is justified.
We read about bad things happening to people, and we get so excited because:
1. It is not us
2. We feel that our lives are not so bad, after all
3. We feel superior than those people
Trust me. I am a MASTER at this.
Whenever I see people making other people out to be everything that is wrong with the universe, or when I catch myself doing it, I am amused.
They demonize people. Like Pak Lah. Well, congratulations. You - WE - got him out. But sometimes I wish that it was done in a better way. I wish there was an easier way. It is bloodless, but for some reason, I sense some crimson on my hands. That no perfume from Arabia will wash away.
They demonize Dr M. Well YOU voted him in. I even voted for Pak Lah. It is time, I think, that the people in this country take reponsibility for their own actions. Myself included.
They demonize Rocky. They salivate at the prospect of seeing him fall. I met the guy last night, and he was sitting pretty. Singing karaoke some more. Boo fucking hoo.
Some people even demonize me! And I am insignificant enough that they did not ISA my ass like RPK. Even though I tried to get in two years ago.
It is not just up to the PM to ensure that things are running smoothly. Even the guy who makes nasi lemak has an effect on others.
Find a hair in their nasi lemak, during breakfast, and some people go balistic. They tread on a path of righteous indignation the whole day. The whole world is against them. They are victims. They scream at people. Who, in turn, scream at others. At the end of the day, we end up screaming at each other. To everyone.
Oh well. That's the way it goes.
I am right. And if you think otherwise, you are WRONG!
You make out other people as wrong, paint an unflattering image of them, and in so doing, you feel a false sense of superiority and therefore inaccurately believe that you are better than them.
As an expert in righteousness - been living it all my life - believe me that this is true. I am right. And if you think otherwise, you are wrong.
In Malaysia, this is often called 'politics'. Notice that Malaysian politicians are almost like apes. They have opposable thumbs, but they only know one or two tricks. Most noticably, chucking shit.
Essentially, all political campaigns in Malaysia boil down to this: "That person is badddd. Vote for me!"
Let's look at Anwaristas and UMNOputras and DAPIS-M.
Anwaristas often point out at the real or imaginary - but as yet unproven - rampant corruption perpetrated by the BN government. Even if it is EASY to believe that EVERY single thing is corrupt in this country, a question begs to be asked - where is the proof?
The world IS fucked up, yes. But if you believe strongly in something, there is always a better way to get it done rather than JUST whining about it. Whine all you want, but DO something. Anything.
Anyway, Anwaristas will essentially say, "These people are corrupt! Let's all suck Anwar's cock-a-maney stories!"
UMNOPutras, meanwhile, will point out to other people as extremists. As in, "Anwar is an EXTREME homo!", "PIS-M are EXTREME Islams!", "DAP are EXTREME racists. I mean, racialists!"
While these may or may not be true, UMNOPutras would do better for the happiness of the country and the world if they were to focus on how good they are and what they are doing rather than see the speck in their brother's eyes.
DAP and PIS-M are, in my opinion, too spiteful, too hateful, that I do not even want to go there. I find them like poison. That's just how I feel.
As Dr M pointed out, these people - these apes - do these things because it works. It got them the votes. That we should not blame them.
I am not blaming them. I simply think they should be held accountable for the hate they have perpetrated. The selfishness. These people put their political careers above everything else, including poisoning the psyche of the people.
They don't really care about you. They care about themselves.
This is why I have maintained that politicians and politics have failed us.
Malaysians have large pain-bodies. Everyone thinks of themselves as victims of a sort.
Having a target to blame - a scapegoat - shifts the focus and justifies every bad thing happening in their lives. They are naturally lazy. So instead of doing something about their conditions or predicament, they wait for other people to change or to make changes. Their laziness is justified.
We read about bad things happening to people, and we get so excited because:
1. It is not us
2. We feel that our lives are not so bad, after all
3. We feel superior than those people
Trust me. I am a MASTER at this.
Whenever I see people making other people out to be everything that is wrong with the universe, or when I catch myself doing it, I am amused.
They demonize people. Like Pak Lah. Well, congratulations. You - WE - got him out. But sometimes I wish that it was done in a better way. I wish there was an easier way. It is bloodless, but for some reason, I sense some crimson on my hands. That no perfume from Arabia will wash away.
They demonize Dr M. Well YOU voted him in. I even voted for Pak Lah. It is time, I think, that the people in this country take reponsibility for their own actions. Myself included.
They demonize Rocky. They salivate at the prospect of seeing him fall. I met the guy last night, and he was sitting pretty. Singing karaoke some more. Boo fucking hoo.
Some people even demonize me! And I am insignificant enough that they did not ISA my ass like RPK. Even though I tried to get in two years ago.
It is not just up to the PM to ensure that things are running smoothly. Even the guy who makes nasi lemak has an effect on others.
Find a hair in their nasi lemak, during breakfast, and some people go balistic. They tread on a path of righteous indignation the whole day. The whole world is against them. They are victims. They scream at people. Who, in turn, scream at others. At the end of the day, we end up screaming at each other. To everyone.
Oh well. That's the way it goes.
I am right. And if you think otherwise, you are WRONG!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Tales in the Sand
The Sandman Comics is the greatest piece of literature ever written by mankind. It is the best. It is the greatest.
There are 70++ (76 or 78 issues) plus a few specials. A few miniseries (Death) and a whole new series (Lucifer) sprang forth from it. To sum it all up, the writer Neil Gaiman said, "The King of Dreams learns that he has to either change or die. And he makes his decision."
Basically, that's it.
Though it's also about Dream's other siblings (Destiny, Death, Desire, Despair, Destruction, Delirium - all anthropomorphic personifications of their names) and a whole cast of characters. Rich, layered
But two whole English master's thesis were written on it. The Sandman Comics' A Midsummer Night's Dream also won the World Fantasy Award. After that, the snobbish motherfuckers who organised it banned comics from entering. Thus, it is the first and ONLY comic book which shall ever win the World Fantasy Award.
You can find the wikipedia article about it somewhere in cyberspace.
What I can give you, though, is what the series meant to me.
I am delightfully surprised to find that the series works in different phases of my life.
I remember a lot of the lines Gaiman has written. I remember all the plots and story-arcs. And it makes sense and more sense as I grow older.
The characters I most relate to were Lucifer and Destruction.
Lucifer went to hell in defiance of Yahweh, the God of the Covenant, but he is still serving Yahweh's wishes as he fulfills a function there.
So he leaves. Satan quits. "You can stop being anything."
Destruction also leaves. He leaves his realm, but does not pass on the baton to another.
In essence, he is still fulfilling his function. By leaving, he destroys the system of the seven siblings. Geddit?
And if Destruction has left his realm, then why do things keep on getting destroyed? Why do things keep on changing?
He left during the Age of Reason. Because humans have discovered the potential relation between energy and matter (Newton suggested something, but was then more interested in gravity and apples).
"Reason. It is no more reliable a tool than instinct, myth, or dream. But it has the potential to be far more dangerous..."
- Destruction ("Brief Lives")
Certain things become inevitable, he said. And he was, of course, talking about nuclear energy. Nuclear bombs. Which will one day destroy the world.
Refusing to be responsible for the destruction of the world, or allowing another to be faced with the same dilemma, he abdicated. He left.
A fan favourite is Death. Who is protrayed as a foxy black-haired chick with an ankh as a symbol. Ironic, since the ankh represents life. And of all the characters, Death seems to value and understand life most of all.
Most of the series' focus, though, was on Dream. Morpheus. Ka'ickul.
Dream has this thing about responsibility. He does not comprehend why Destruction would simply leave and let go of his responsibilities, and does not understand why some of his other siblings does not seem to value responsibility as much as he does.
Morose, a tad pretentious, and is forever unlucky in love, Dream is also neither evil nor good. He is just is.
But he has conviction. When Orpheus, his son with the muse Calliope, turned around because of a lack of faith only to see his lover dragged into the depths of Hades, Morpheus simply walked on and never looked back on his son.
The Sandman Comics also dealt with the French Revolution, Robbespierre, yo! characters like William Shakespeare and Mark Twain. Marco Polo. Haroun Al-Rashid in the wonderful tale of Ramadan, which Gaiman began with "In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful". Fictional places and events from the Faerie to Hell.
References to old books. Hob's Leviathan is a play on philosopher Thomas Hobbe's book, Leviathan and a nod to Moby Dick at the same time. Old comics like Prez Rickard from Prez. John Constantine. Erasmus Fry. Augustus Ceasar.
The riches of thousands of years of wisdom and literature and art. In 70++ issues of comics.
It is the best. The greatest.
There are 70++ (76 or 78 issues) plus a few specials. A few miniseries (Death) and a whole new series (Lucifer) sprang forth from it. To sum it all up, the writer Neil Gaiman said, "The King of Dreams learns that he has to either change or die. And he makes his decision."
Basically, that's it.
Though it's also about Dream's other siblings (Destiny, Death, Desire, Despair, Destruction, Delirium - all anthropomorphic personifications of their names) and a whole cast of characters. Rich, layered
But two whole English master's thesis were written on it. The Sandman Comics' A Midsummer Night's Dream also won the World Fantasy Award. After that, the snobbish motherfuckers who organised it banned comics from entering. Thus, it is the first and ONLY comic book which shall ever win the World Fantasy Award.
You can find the wikipedia article about it somewhere in cyberspace.
What I can give you, though, is what the series meant to me.
I am delightfully surprised to find that the series works in different phases of my life.
I remember a lot of the lines Gaiman has written. I remember all the plots and story-arcs. And it makes sense and more sense as I grow older.
The characters I most relate to were Lucifer and Destruction.
Lucifer went to hell in defiance of Yahweh, the God of the Covenant, but he is still serving Yahweh's wishes as he fulfills a function there.
So he leaves. Satan quits. "You can stop being anything."
Destruction also leaves. He leaves his realm, but does not pass on the baton to another.
In essence, he is still fulfilling his function. By leaving, he destroys the system of the seven siblings. Geddit?
And if Destruction has left his realm, then why do things keep on getting destroyed? Why do things keep on changing?
He left during the Age of Reason. Because humans have discovered the potential relation between energy and matter (Newton suggested something, but was then more interested in gravity and apples).
"Reason. It is no more reliable a tool than instinct, myth, or dream. But it has the potential to be far more dangerous..."
- Destruction ("Brief Lives")
Certain things become inevitable, he said. And he was, of course, talking about nuclear energy. Nuclear bombs. Which will one day destroy the world.
Refusing to be responsible for the destruction of the world, or allowing another to be faced with the same dilemma, he abdicated. He left.
A fan favourite is Death. Who is protrayed as a foxy black-haired chick with an ankh as a symbol. Ironic, since the ankh represents life. And of all the characters, Death seems to value and understand life most of all.
Most of the series' focus, though, was on Dream. Morpheus. Ka'ickul.
Dream has this thing about responsibility. He does not comprehend why Destruction would simply leave and let go of his responsibilities, and does not understand why some of his other siblings does not seem to value responsibility as much as he does.
Morose, a tad pretentious, and is forever unlucky in love, Dream is also neither evil nor good. He is just is.
But he has conviction. When Orpheus, his son with the muse Calliope, turned around because of a lack of faith only to see his lover dragged into the depths of Hades, Morpheus simply walked on and never looked back on his son.
The Sandman Comics also dealt with the French Revolution, Robbespierre, yo! characters like William Shakespeare and Mark Twain. Marco Polo. Haroun Al-Rashid in the wonderful tale of Ramadan, which Gaiman began with "In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful". Fictional places and events from the Faerie to Hell.
References to old books. Hob's Leviathan is a play on philosopher Thomas Hobbe's book, Leviathan and a nod to Moby Dick at the same time. Old comics like Prez Rickard from Prez. John Constantine. Erasmus Fry. Augustus Ceasar.
The riches of thousands of years of wisdom and literature and art. In 70++ issues of comics.
It is the best. The greatest.
Snippets
The battle's done and we kind of won, so we sound our victory cheer.
Where do we go, from here?
I was battling a splitting headache the whole day. And managed to keep it under wraps. By the time six o'clock came around, though, I was almost losing it.
So I went home. Yay!
You need to get enough rest in order to do shit, man. And tonight, I'm just staying home. Alone.
I wanted to go to the EU Film Festival at GSC. It started on Nov 13 and ends Nov 23. Want to go, but not tonight.
Gaik Lian from GSC - an old friend - gave me a bunch of tickets. I gave away most of them to people who would appreciate films from Europe.
Some of the line up is interesting. There's 9 1/2 dates. It's about a best-selling author (like me) who failed to write a book in three years and is fired by his publisher.
In order to save his job, he has to go on 10 dates with 10 women in 10 days. And write a book based on that. Problem is, he's a male chauvinist. Basically a male version of a Femi-Nazi.
Then there's Happy Family, a film about a guy who wants to win the heart of a girl, but has to defeat her brother in an oil wrestling match. Homo-erotic heterosexual romantic comedy, from the looks of it.
There are a lot more movies. Most of them award-winning. The best Europe has to offer.
These are movies you won't see in regular cinemas. Except...for now, of course. You can buy tickets from GSC Midvalley, GSC Pavillion and GSC 1Utama.
I plan to just go one day, when I'm NOT nursing a massive headache, and watch whatever movie is playing at the time.
And if you're there, you might win the prize of sucking my dick. Might.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm preparing a painkiller cocktail. I'm going to go to sleep and probably wake up later. So see you then.
And Joseph, we need the list, man. The list, by today.
Where do we go, from here?
I was battling a splitting headache the whole day. And managed to keep it under wraps. By the time six o'clock came around, though, I was almost losing it.
So I went home. Yay!
You need to get enough rest in order to do shit, man. And tonight, I'm just staying home. Alone.
I wanted to go to the EU Film Festival at GSC. It started on Nov 13 and ends Nov 23. Want to go, but not tonight.
Gaik Lian from GSC - an old friend - gave me a bunch of tickets. I gave away most of them to people who would appreciate films from Europe.
Some of the line up is interesting. There's 9 1/2 dates. It's about a best-selling author (like me) who failed to write a book in three years and is fired by his publisher.
In order to save his job, he has to go on 10 dates with 10 women in 10 days. And write a book based on that. Problem is, he's a male chauvinist. Basically a male version of a Femi-Nazi.
Then there's Happy Family, a film about a guy who wants to win the heart of a girl, but has to defeat her brother in an oil wrestling match. Homo-erotic heterosexual romantic comedy, from the looks of it.
There are a lot more movies. Most of them award-winning. The best Europe has to offer.
These are movies you won't see in regular cinemas. Except...for now, of course. You can buy tickets from GSC Midvalley, GSC Pavillion and GSC 1Utama.
I plan to just go one day, when I'm NOT nursing a massive headache, and watch whatever movie is playing at the time.
And if you're there, you might win the prize of sucking my dick. Might.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm preparing a painkiller cocktail. I'm going to go to sleep and probably wake up later. So see you then.
And Joseph, we need the list, man. The list, by today.
Tales from the Drunk Side: Avalokitesvara
As long as people want other people to think of them in a certain way, as long as there is a need, a wanting from them, to have you or him or her to think of them in a certain way, then they will always be a slave.
They will never be free.
I hang out with those who are older than me. I see some things they understand.
Older people, those who survive or thrive, they DO NOT GIVE A FUCK.
Usually, it takes them years, decades, to get to a stage where they just don't let the little shit ruin their lives.
Shit happens. Shit always happens. Only the greenhorns and the inexperienced let that get to them.
For a time, I let those things get to me as well. It was and is a process. You don't magically get somewhere. You travel. Body and soul, motherfucker. And the mind is maya, said the Hindu.
But when you've gone through it, you look at it. And you see what they see.
Sharingan!
It is possible to get the Mangekyou.
When you read a book, you climb inside the writer's head. You see what they see. You think what they think. You immerse yourself, and you understand what they were thinking when they did it. How they did it.
That's the best way to read, in my book.
You see anything, and you experience what the creator made. You listen, and you understand.
I have always been fascinated with learning. Coming from a family of educators, I guess it runs in the blood.
Humans created education systems. To pass on information. They created classrooms. They created the teaching profession.
If you can rise from the jungles of information, of instruction, and see things from a bird's eye view, you can possibly grasp why they are doing this or that.
Neil Gaiman's father said, "If I could, I would dower you with experience, without experience."
SOmetimes, it doesn't work that way.
There is a process, and there is a system.
In the Sandman comics, by Neil Gaiman, there was a guy who dreamed of falling. And he's afraid of heights. He met Dream - the anthropomorphic personification of dream - and he said, "You know what happens when you dream of falling? Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you.
And sometimes, when you fall, you fly."
The Goddess Kuan Yin or Guan Yin - the Goddess of Mercy - worshipped by Malaysian Buddhists, was originally called Avalokitesvara.
If there is anything such as mercy, I believe that at the end of the day, none of us knows everything. No one knows what will happen tomorrow. Whether we fall, die or fly.
And,
"Not knowing everything is all that makes it ok, sometimes."
- Delirium (Brief Lives)
From The Sandman Comics
by Neil Gaiman
Man, I am soooo philosophical. I am so cool.
They will never be free.
I hang out with those who are older than me. I see some things they understand.
Older people, those who survive or thrive, they DO NOT GIVE A FUCK.
Usually, it takes them years, decades, to get to a stage where they just don't let the little shit ruin their lives.
Shit happens. Shit always happens. Only the greenhorns and the inexperienced let that get to them.
For a time, I let those things get to me as well. It was and is a process. You don't magically get somewhere. You travel. Body and soul, motherfucker. And the mind is maya, said the Hindu.
But when you've gone through it, you look at it. And you see what they see.
Sharingan!
It is possible to get the Mangekyou.
When you read a book, you climb inside the writer's head. You see what they see. You think what they think. You immerse yourself, and you understand what they were thinking when they did it. How they did it.
That's the best way to read, in my book.
You see anything, and you experience what the creator made. You listen, and you understand.
I have always been fascinated with learning. Coming from a family of educators, I guess it runs in the blood.
Humans created education systems. To pass on information. They created classrooms. They created the teaching profession.
If you can rise from the jungles of information, of instruction, and see things from a bird's eye view, you can possibly grasp why they are doing this or that.
Neil Gaiman's father said, "If I could, I would dower you with experience, without experience."
SOmetimes, it doesn't work that way.
There is a process, and there is a system.
In the Sandman comics, by Neil Gaiman, there was a guy who dreamed of falling. And he's afraid of heights. He met Dream - the anthropomorphic personification of dream - and he said, "You know what happens when you dream of falling? Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you.
And sometimes, when you fall, you fly."
The Goddess Kuan Yin or Guan Yin - the Goddess of Mercy - worshipped by Malaysian Buddhists, was originally called Avalokitesvara.
If there is anything such as mercy, I believe that at the end of the day, none of us knows everything. No one knows what will happen tomorrow. Whether we fall, die or fly.
And,
"Not knowing everything is all that makes it ok, sometimes."
- Delirium (Brief Lives)
From The Sandman Comics
by Neil Gaiman
Man, I am soooo philosophical. I am so cool.
Tales from the Drunk Side: Power
Do you even realize how powerful you can be when you act without emotion?
I was like, "Archon Warp! Power overwhelimg! POWER OVERWHELMING!"
This power coursing through my veins. The power I wield. The control I have over the universe.
Man.
I. Am. That. Damn. Good.
I just can't believe how powerful I've gotten.
It's like having an extra dick.
The peace I got from all the release of emo shit last week really, really worked.
Thanks to all who participated. I appreciate your efforts. Couldn't have done it without you.
I am Optimus Optimal.
I am no longer a victim to the world.
In fact, I'm raping the world.
Take this shit up yo ass, motherfucker.
Edward Hyde, yo!
I never felt this good before.
I am the greatest.
Hahahahaha.
I was like, "Archon Warp! Power overwhelimg! POWER OVERWHELMING!"
This power coursing through my veins. The power I wield. The control I have over the universe.
Man.
I. Am. That. Damn. Good.
I just can't believe how powerful I've gotten.
It's like having an extra dick.
The peace I got from all the release of emo shit last week really, really worked.
Thanks to all who participated. I appreciate your efforts. Couldn't have done it without you.
I am Optimus Optimal.
I am no longer a victim to the world.
In fact, I'm raping the world.
Take this shit up yo ass, motherfucker.
Edward Hyde, yo!
I never felt this good before.
I am the greatest.
Hahahahaha.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Cloud City
The lounge band is playing the Godfather theme. By Nino Rota. I think. This Blackberry can't open multiple windows.
It's a bit more jazzy than I remember.
C'mon, play some blues, man. Blues!
I am so cool. My ego is so cool.
You know, some people, they have names of musicians.
Like Billy Dee Williams.
Razzle-dazzle!
Billy Dee Williams. And the Johnson Four!
Razzle-dazzle!
Billy Dee Williams - Spin City
Billy Dee Williams - the Millenium Parsec
Billy Dee Williams - Crying Freeman
Billy Dee Williams - Wookie Heartbreak
Billy Dee Williams - Ewok Funk
Billy Dee Williams - Android Soul
Billy Dee Williams - Death of a Star
Man. Billy Dee Williams.
Razzle-dazzle!
Names have power. My name, it's Arabic. It means, 'Leader of the Sentinels'.
It is not 'Leader of those who know the Koran by heart.'
My name is spelled with a 'zai' and not a 'dzo'.
But man.
Billy Dee Williams.
It's a bit more jazzy than I remember.
C'mon, play some blues, man. Blues!
I am so cool. My ego is so cool.
You know, some people, they have names of musicians.
Like Billy Dee Williams.
Razzle-dazzle!
Billy Dee Williams. And the Johnson Four!
Razzle-dazzle!
Billy Dee Williams - Spin City
Billy Dee Williams - the Millenium Parsec
Billy Dee Williams - Crying Freeman
Billy Dee Williams - Wookie Heartbreak
Billy Dee Williams - Ewok Funk
Billy Dee Williams - Android Soul
Billy Dee Williams - Death of a Star
Man. Billy Dee Williams.
Razzle-dazzle!
Names have power. My name, it's Arabic. It means, 'Leader of the Sentinels'.
It is not 'Leader of those who know the Koran by heart.'
My name is spelled with a 'zai' and not a 'dzo'.
But man.
Billy Dee Williams.
Handling Despair
Looking back, it is easy to laugh at depression.
But if you're in it, there would seem to be no way out.
What worked for me is acceptance.
Accept the fact that at the moment, all you are feeling is despair.
Then embrace the fact that nothing is permanent. Even your despair - it, too, shall pass.
And you, too, will one day die. And it would not matter if you were depressed or happy.
Nothing would matter, in the end.
When you die, you die. That's it. That's all she wrote.
All the hate and the feeling of being trapped - it won't matter anymore.
Trust me. It's hard to believe, but I've been depressed before.
I mean, with my perfect life, it's hard to imagine someone like me being at the mountains of madness. Standing on a ledge. Holding on to the edge.
Crazy, innit?
People will always try to push or stab you. They will paint ugly, unflattering pictures of you to other people.
It's their way of saving face, bowing to their ego.
They cannot stand anyone being or rather seeming to be more than them.
And if you can live with that, you can live through anything.
Oh well. What to do?
This, too, shall pass.
But if you're in it, there would seem to be no way out.
What worked for me is acceptance.
Accept the fact that at the moment, all you are feeling is despair.
Then embrace the fact that nothing is permanent. Even your despair - it, too, shall pass.
And you, too, will one day die. And it would not matter if you were depressed or happy.
Nothing would matter, in the end.
When you die, you die. That's it. That's all she wrote.
All the hate and the feeling of being trapped - it won't matter anymore.
Trust me. It's hard to believe, but I've been depressed before.
I mean, with my perfect life, it's hard to imagine someone like me being at the mountains of madness. Standing on a ledge. Holding on to the edge.
Crazy, innit?
People will always try to push or stab you. They will paint ugly, unflattering pictures of you to other people.
It's their way of saving face, bowing to their ego.
They cannot stand anyone being or rather seeming to be more than them.
And if you can live with that, you can live through anything.
Oh well. What to do?
This, too, shall pass.
Barbarian Robot
I am at Mandarin Oriental. Typing this on my Blackberry.
Drinking teh tarik, with something extra.
I just came back from the toilet, where I met Greg Nunis.
The toilet is not bad. Not cause of Greg Nunis, but because of its spaciousness, cleanliness and shit.
Though the best toilet I've ever been in was in Bali. It had an open roof and the floor was basically gravel from the river. Should I have used 'pebbles' instead of gravel?
Anyway, I remember, as a child, being told that toilets in hotels as wondrous, magical things.
Like Disneyland.
My sister told me that the toilet at Mimaland had a mechanical arm with a brush attachment that will clean your ass after taking a dump.
I was like, "Wow! A robot that cleans asses!"
A barbarian robot. Man. That was so cool.
Of course, I did't know I was being lied to. I was only seven or something.
But for years, I longed for a toilet with a robot in it that would clean my ass.
I went and looked for the best toilets I could experience.
The Metropolitan in Bangkok has a washroom and toilet area that was bigger than my entire apartment in Malaysia. Of course, at a few hundred USD a room, it better be.
The Ascott or something in Singapore had a rainforest shower thing.
It really did feel like being in the middle of a tropical rainstorm, in the jungle.
And the tub was big enough for two. Even three or four. Hehehehe.
For an island nation quite sensitive to water usage, being able to use those kind of luxurious things was very...evil. I felt like a rich man.
But nothing beats Bali when it comes to toilets.
Floating in my toilet bowl at a decent resort in Kuta Beac were flower petals. On my bed, there were flower petals. But inside the toilet bowls?
Man.
Taking a dump while watching the stars (and worrying about voyeurs) was fantastic.
But for the life of me, I could never find the barbarian robot arm with a brush extension that would clean my ass.
It had so dominated my childhood dreams.
But now, as an old man, I am beginning to feel afraid of meeting a barbarian robot arm with a brush extension that would clean my ass.
Not afraid. No. More like, concerned.
Drinking teh tarik, with something extra.
I just came back from the toilet, where I met Greg Nunis.
The toilet is not bad. Not cause of Greg Nunis, but because of its spaciousness, cleanliness and shit.
Though the best toilet I've ever been in was in Bali. It had an open roof and the floor was basically gravel from the river. Should I have used 'pebbles' instead of gravel?
Anyway, I remember, as a child, being told that toilets in hotels as wondrous, magical things.
Like Disneyland.
My sister told me that the toilet at Mimaland had a mechanical arm with a brush attachment that will clean your ass after taking a dump.
I was like, "Wow! A robot that cleans asses!"
A barbarian robot. Man. That was so cool.
Of course, I did't know I was being lied to. I was only seven or something.
But for years, I longed for a toilet with a robot in it that would clean my ass.
I went and looked for the best toilets I could experience.
The Metropolitan in Bangkok has a washroom and toilet area that was bigger than my entire apartment in Malaysia. Of course, at a few hundred USD a room, it better be.
The Ascott or something in Singapore had a rainforest shower thing.
It really did feel like being in the middle of a tropical rainstorm, in the jungle.
And the tub was big enough for two. Even three or four. Hehehehe.
For an island nation quite sensitive to water usage, being able to use those kind of luxurious things was very...evil. I felt like a rich man.
But nothing beats Bali when it comes to toilets.
Floating in my toilet bowl at a decent resort in Kuta Beac were flower petals. On my bed, there were flower petals. But inside the toilet bowls?
Man.
Taking a dump while watching the stars (and worrying about voyeurs) was fantastic.
But for the life of me, I could never find the barbarian robot arm with a brush extension that would clean my ass.
It had so dominated my childhood dreams.
But now, as an old man, I am beginning to feel afraid of meeting a barbarian robot arm with a brush extension that would clean my ass.
Not afraid. No. More like, concerned.
Insomnia Under the Bodhi Tree
I can't sleep.
But I feel strangely calm.
The whole week has been crazy. As with all weeks. This week especially so. A roller-coaster of emotions. But I am at peace.
I think that all the things I learned, everything I've worked for, everything I've read, is finally beginning to make sense.
It was a slow convergence of ideas and a confluence of many different experiences. I am tired. But I am not in despair.
I have begun to accept certain things. I can see better. My mind is not cluttered with a million different thoughts and a billion different things.
There is serenity in the air. Clarity. Somehow. I don't know why.
Perhaps Chuck Palahniuk wrote true after all.
Only when you have lost everything are you free to do anything.
I have not lost everything. But I cast off a lot of shit this week. Things I did not need. Baggage. Guilt. Responsibilities which were not mine.
Desires. Wanting. The desire to look good. If anything, I looked really bad this week. The desire to sound smart. To be funny. For approval. Right now, at this moment, I no longer feel that.
Met a girl I liked last week. And I did not try to impress her. Because:
1. She would not be impressed.
2. I did not feel the need to do so.
I've been talking and writing about not having desires, but I hardly followed that edict. Before.
I find that in order for me to find a sense of balance, and some degree of solace, I needed to let go of certain things. Not the least of which the unrealistic expectations I put on myself.
I mean, sure, I have done fantastic stuff. And I will continue to do so. But I no longer feel the poisonous need to do it. For what? To prove myself? Again? When will it ever stop? When will it ever be enough?
I will do great things simply because I do great things. I do stupid things because I do stupid things.
And as for people? Well, people are people. They're like that. I can't force them to think or act in a certain way, and nor do I want to. I do not wish for control over people. Never did. Never will.
Oh well. Maybe it's the painkillers.
But I feel strangely calm.
The whole week has been crazy. As with all weeks. This week especially so. A roller-coaster of emotions. But I am at peace.
I think that all the things I learned, everything I've worked for, everything I've read, is finally beginning to make sense.
It was a slow convergence of ideas and a confluence of many different experiences. I am tired. But I am not in despair.
I have begun to accept certain things. I can see better. My mind is not cluttered with a million different thoughts and a billion different things.
There is serenity in the air. Clarity. Somehow. I don't know why.
Perhaps Chuck Palahniuk wrote true after all.
Only when you have lost everything are you free to do anything.
I have not lost everything. But I cast off a lot of shit this week. Things I did not need. Baggage. Guilt. Responsibilities which were not mine.
Desires. Wanting. The desire to look good. If anything, I looked really bad this week. The desire to sound smart. To be funny. For approval. Right now, at this moment, I no longer feel that.
Met a girl I liked last week. And I did not try to impress her. Because:
1. She would not be impressed.
2. I did not feel the need to do so.
I've been talking and writing about not having desires, but I hardly followed that edict. Before.
I find that in order for me to find a sense of balance, and some degree of solace, I needed to let go of certain things. Not the least of which the unrealistic expectations I put on myself.
I mean, sure, I have done fantastic stuff. And I will continue to do so. But I no longer feel the poisonous need to do it. For what? To prove myself? Again? When will it ever stop? When will it ever be enough?
I will do great things simply because I do great things. I do stupid things because I do stupid things.
And as for people? Well, people are people. They're like that. I can't force them to think or act in a certain way, and nor do I want to. I do not wish for control over people. Never did. Never will.
Oh well. Maybe it's the painkillers.
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