Sunday, November 16, 2008

VH1: Behind the Stories - Amir Hafizi

One time, I was really down with everything, and a friend told me this:

"Don't hate the player, hate the game."

So confident was he that he got the best out of the deal. And that I was going to be homeless and sleep in toilets and shit.

Well, two years later, I am a best-selling author, movie script-writer, TV writer, sought-after columnist and all-around handsome motherfucker.

People write for magazines. I gone and designed magazines. People write for TV shows. I design TV shows.

I got my own company. I got my own recording label. I got a publishing house. A talent agency. I done and seen shit people twice my age never got to do. Hell, some people die trying to do what I did in less than three decades.

I been around the block a few times. Caught jungle fever once or twice. Or 134 times.

Don't hate the player, man. Hate the game.

It was hard to imagine all of that when I was a kid.

As a kid, I always imagined that there was a hidden TV crew in the bushes behind my house, watching and filming my every move. Some fucked up white kids, they have imaginary friends. I had imaginary TV crews.

My mother bought me an album with six slots.

"These six, on this page - it's for pictures of you getting number one in ALL six years of primary school."

And I got them. Just to please my mother.

In secondary school, some fucktard came to my school and said, "If you don't study, you'll never score in SPM."

Guess what I did? I dropped studying. Fuck you, bitch. Imma prove you WRONG!

I took ten subjects. I only focused on 6. And I aced them all, motherfucker.

Going to university was hard. The hardest thing was to sign up for courses that would leave me Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays free. I had to use my head more at the beginning of each semester so I would only go to school for four days a week.

I failed a couple of subjects in the first two semesters - including co-curriculum - so I can take one extra semester.

The last two semesters? Dean's list, motherfucker. BAM! In yo face, Malaysian Education System! I win! This is my house!

And then, when I told everyone I was gonna be a writer, EVERYONE told me it couldn't be done.

My degree was Computer Science. My father said to me, "Who you gonna write for, nigger? Harakah? Tamil Nesan? Shut the fuck up, foo! And get a real job."

Six months later, BAM! I'm a writer. A rootin'-tootin' pussy-munchin' motherfucker!

My bullshit is worth shit. Holy crap! I'm gettin' paid for what I'd do for free(at the time)!

All started with me reading the newspapers and saying to myself, "Hell, I can do better than this."

I watched TV, I got the same idea. "Shittt. That all?" I watched movies, and I thought, "Fuck that man. See these dope ass balls."

I was sittin' on my ass one day, when a famous director called me up one day and asked, "You wanna write a novel for my movie?"

I thought about it. I didn't know if I had what it takes, full-time job and all.

So I said, "Sure."

A few months later, it's all there. Recently, some of my friends told me it's on the best-seller rack.

In yo face, Father Time! Kronos motherfucker! I bend yo space-time continuum, bitch! This is my house! Don't you be bringin' that weak ass shit here.

Imma rape the world! I'm the shit, yo!

I am the greatest.

I'm like LeBron James, playin' with Magic, Jordan, Kobe and Shaq.

Everybody wishin' they could run wit my division but they gone fishin'.

And you know what?

Round Two!

Ring a ding, motherfucker.

Don't hate the playa. Hate the game.