Mencari Anjing Kehausan
oleh Amir Hafizi
Jujurnya, aku tak peduli
Sampai masanya, aku akan mati
Biar Rasul, nabi, mahupun wali
Biar Yasmin, mahupun Zulkifli
Kalau mereka bertanya
Siapakah gerangan aku
Nampak bagai penzina
Yang tidak pilih bulu
Kau cuma beritahu
Aku hanyalah setan kerdil
Setan Kuning yang terpencil
Syaitan yang laknat
Tak suka pakai kain pelekat
Tak biasa berpura-pura malaikat
Yang tahu berapa harkat
Mau dibaca Zabur dan Taurat
Dalam rumah, aku biasa berbogel
Kalau diintai dari tingkap tidak berlangsir
Nampak macam bergedil
Ataupun mungkin seguni pasir
Aku bukan di kalangan
mereka yang suka berangan:
"biarlah aku miskin berpanjangan
"kelak bidadari tak cukup tangan"
Kononnya, kalau miskin di dunia
maka akan kaya pula sampai di syurga
adakah kau sememangnya rasa
takkan dijilat api neraka?
Kalau arak pun kau telan
Bontot jantan pun kau idamkan
Duit rasuah engkau makan
Ko ingat Tuhan nak bagi can?
Usah kau menjual moral kau di sini
Kepada aku, orang yang tak reti
Hidup dalam satu komuniti
yang penuh dengan hipokrisi
Tapi ada satu kemungkinan
Yang menjadi satu pegangan
Satu lubang untuk diberi kelepasan
Kepada mereka yang bergelar insan
Kau cari anjing yang tertiarap kehausan
Kau bagi dia minum, mungkin juga sedikit manisan
Secara tiba-tiba kau diampuni Tuhan
Walau terjebak dalam pelacuran
Pelacuran, oh pelacuran
Masih boleh mengelak daripada pelakuran
Begitu jua semua perbuatan
Yang ditiru dari para Syaitan
Betulkah begitu senang?
Untuk menangkap gambar si kunang-kunang?
Pukimak mak kau, aku dah bosan
Untuk menghabiskan sajak yang tak ada haluan
Bagilah aku gelaran Sasterawan Negara
Pasal aku nak jumpa dengan orang PTPTN, dalam neraka
Friday, July 31, 2009
Aku Nak Berak
Am at the bank, paying PTPTN. And yet still, PTPTN motherfucking officials bar our passports and prey on those who pay.
May you and your family rot in hell. If you ever get out, I'll climb all the way from the pits of hell itself and drag you down with me, you motherfucking sons of bitches.
And I'm sure this is an Opposition conspiracy, amongst the PTPTN fuckers, to persecute young people in Malaysia and get them to blame the BN government, and vote PR in the next elections.
I'll wait my whole life, if I have to, but one day you will be at my mercy. And when you least expect it, I will return the favor granted unto me.
May you and your family rot in hell. If you ever get out, I'll climb all the way from the pits of hell itself and drag you down with me, you motherfucking sons of bitches.
And I'm sure this is an Opposition conspiracy, amongst the PTPTN fuckers, to persecute young people in Malaysia and get them to blame the BN government, and vote PR in the next elections.
I'll wait my whole life, if I have to, but one day you will be at my mercy. And when you least expect it, I will return the favor granted unto me.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Do Not Ask
Wow. Apparently, unknown DNA traces were found on Teoh Beng Hock's clothes. And two guys refused to give samples of their DNA. Which, in CSI, would have immediately pointed out the killers early on and leave Grissom with only the method to solve.
My advice? Cooperate fully. Otherwise, avoiding it will at the very least ask awkward questions. And later on, they will get a court order for their DNA anyway. Or, just stand anywhere they are eating and then take away the glass or the fork and spoon as soon as they are finished. It's 'in plain sight'.
I doubt anyone is willing to be BleachMan and cover everything they've ever touched with bleach. Everything. Including their wives. And mistresses.
I would like to volunteer to give the Malaysian police my DNA, stool, blood and semen sample. Especially semen sample. You can have that anytime, man.
My advice? Cooperate fully. Otherwise, avoiding it will at the very least ask awkward questions. And later on, they will get a court order for their DNA anyway. Or, just stand anywhere they are eating and then take away the glass or the fork and spoon as soon as they are finished. It's 'in plain sight'.
I doubt anyone is willing to be BleachMan and cover everything they've ever touched with bleach. Everything. Including their wives. And mistresses.
I would like to volunteer to give the Malaysian police my DNA, stool, blood and semen sample. Especially semen sample. You can have that anytime, man.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Kosmo! Vs Yasmin Ahmad's Friends
Oh. My. God.
They are turning it into a circus.
A day after Yasmin Ahmad's death, Kosmo! ran a story on Yasmin's past - how she was a good football player and model student, a famed singer and liked assam pedas. Oh, by the way, Kosmo! also revealed that she was once known as a man called Zulkifli Ahmad. Read it here.
Cue righteous uproar from Marina Mahathir and journalists.
Look, guys, they can spin this. Kosmo! can perhaps say that:
1. They were only reporting facts.
2. They did not and do not assume that being a man and then a woman is something bad. These 'friends' of hers believe it is a shameful thing - a bad thing. They don't.
3. Free speech. Free Press. Yadda yadda yadda.
Then the friends will probably say that Kosmo! had malicious intent, wanting to smear her good name, because they were jealous of Yasmin's achievement. Or even jealous that she was well-accepted by people when they - some whom might wish to be women themselves - are not.
He said. She said. Bada bing. Bada boom.
In all this ruckus, what would Yasmin say? Would she have hounded Kosmo! reporters? Would she have chastised the other side for being overzealous?
If I know Yasmin, she would perhaps say a motto that was tattooed on another football player's ribs - Zlatan Ibrahimovic - during his own match-fixing scandal in Serie A.
"Only God can judge me."
And she'd leave it at that.
Whatever she was, Yasmin made such a huge impact on Malaysia. An impact of such magnitude that one - be he or she or it are detractors or fans - could only hope to emulate in 1000 lifetimes.
I believe in Kosmo!'s right for freedom of speech. And the bad thing with freedom of speech is that you also have to defend freedom of speech that you don't agree with. I also find it unseemly that they should run the article, not for Yasmin's sake. She has passed away and probably wouldn't care one iota. However, her family might be disturbed, as I have seen when another friend of mine had his medical records circulated during his funeral.
And that whatever other people say from now on, Kosmo! also has to respect their freedom of speech.
There will be no victor. Or victoria. So may the best man - or woman - win. Good luck!
They are turning it into a circus.
A day after Yasmin Ahmad's death, Kosmo! ran a story on Yasmin's past - how she was a good football player and model student, a famed singer and liked assam pedas. Oh, by the way, Kosmo! also revealed that she was once known as a man called Zulkifli Ahmad. Read it here.
Cue righteous uproar from Marina Mahathir and journalists.
Look, guys, they can spin this. Kosmo! can perhaps say that:
1. They were only reporting facts.
2. They did not and do not assume that being a man and then a woman is something bad. These 'friends' of hers believe it is a shameful thing - a bad thing. They don't.
3. Free speech. Free Press. Yadda yadda yadda.
Then the friends will probably say that Kosmo! had malicious intent, wanting to smear her good name, because they were jealous of Yasmin's achievement. Or even jealous that she was well-accepted by people when they - some whom might wish to be women themselves - are not.
He said. She said. Bada bing. Bada boom.
In all this ruckus, what would Yasmin say? Would she have hounded Kosmo! reporters? Would she have chastised the other side for being overzealous?
If I know Yasmin, she would perhaps say a motto that was tattooed on another football player's ribs - Zlatan Ibrahimovic - during his own match-fixing scandal in Serie A.
"Only God can judge me."
And she'd leave it at that.
Whatever she was, Yasmin made such a huge impact on Malaysia. An impact of such magnitude that one - be he or she or it are detractors or fans - could only hope to emulate in 1000 lifetimes.
I believe in Kosmo!'s right for freedom of speech. And the bad thing with freedom of speech is that you also have to defend freedom of speech that you don't agree with. I also find it unseemly that they should run the article, not for Yasmin's sake. She has passed away and probably wouldn't care one iota. However, her family might be disturbed, as I have seen when another friend of mine had his medical records circulated during his funeral.
And that whatever other people say from now on, Kosmo! also has to respect their freedom of speech.
There will be no victor. Or victoria. So may the best man - or woman - win. Good luck!
Pendekar II: Rico
Komik terjemahan paling hebat sebenarnya adalah Pendekar II: Rico.
Kumpulan penterjemah semestinya mendapat terlalu banyak kerja yanpa dibayar gaji. Maka, mereka menterjemah sesuka hati.
Contoh:
Apabila mengaktifkan hikmat yang paling hebat, nama hikmat tersebut diterjemah sebagai...Hikmat Anjing Lapar Melahap Tahi.
...
Kemudian, apabila pasukan hero memecah masuk ke dalam bangunan penjahat, mereka dengan gahnya berkata, "Kami akan memecah masuk tanpa menggunakan apa-apa senjata!"
Panel berikutnya memaparkan dua orang pengawal dengan pisau tercacak atas kepala mereka.
Dialog pengawal: "Tak gunakan apa-apa senjata? Habis, yang tercacak atas kepala aku ni apa?"
Pendekar II: Rico ... komik terjemahan paling hebat di Alam Semesta.
Kumpulan penterjemah semestinya mendapat terlalu banyak kerja yanpa dibayar gaji. Maka, mereka menterjemah sesuka hati.
Contoh:
Apabila mengaktifkan hikmat yang paling hebat, nama hikmat tersebut diterjemah sebagai...Hikmat Anjing Lapar Melahap Tahi.
...
Kemudian, apabila pasukan hero memecah masuk ke dalam bangunan penjahat, mereka dengan gahnya berkata, "Kami akan memecah masuk tanpa menggunakan apa-apa senjata!"
Panel berikutnya memaparkan dua orang pengawal dengan pisau tercacak atas kepala mereka.
Dialog pengawal: "Tak gunakan apa-apa senjata? Habis, yang tercacak atas kepala aku ni apa?"
Pendekar II: Rico ... komik terjemahan paling hebat di Alam Semesta.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Repercussions
One thing I hate about going on trips is that when you come back, there's a tonne of work waiting.
So, instead of resting today and tomorrow, I am doing my shit.
I won't be available to most of you. I'm gonna go deep into work mode and I won't come out till I get most of it finished.
See you later. Much later.
So, instead of resting today and tomorrow, I am doing my shit.
I won't be available to most of you. I'm gonna go deep into work mode and I won't come out till I get most of it finished.
See you later. Much later.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Rubber-Tapir: Haiwan Minyak Moden
Pertama sekali, doakan Yasmin Ahmad.
Dah doa? Ok, kita teruskan hidup sebagaimana Yasmin inginkan kita teruskan hidup. Nanti bila kita mati, boleh tengok filem Yasmin.
Apapun, kita rakyat Malaysia sedang diancam oleh satu spesis yang amat ganas - rubber-tapir.
Mari saya jelaskan.
Ini adalah tapir biasa:
Spesis TAPIRUS INDICUS, sejenis haiwan herbivor yang tidak mengancam manusia
Ini pula adalah rubber-tapir:
TAPIRUS RAPIS BRASILIENSIS(Rubber-Tapir) - perogol bersiri yang amat subur
Rubber-tapir mempunyai kebolehan untuk mengubah bentuk dirinya menjadi apa saja yang diingini - termasuk manusia.
Semasa aku di sekolah rendah dahulu, ramai yang mengaku menjadi mangsa rubber-tapir. Atau sebenarnya, ibu mereka menjadi mangsa rubber-tapir durjana.
Apabila ditanya oleh cikgu Bahasa Inggeris, ramai yang menyatakan bahawa:
"My father is a rubber-tapir."
Menunjukkan yang rubber-tapir telah sama ada mengorat atau merogol ibu-ibu mereka dan kemudiannya meninggalkan sahaja perempuan-perempuan itu selepas mengandung.
Perangai rubber-tapir yang keji dan suka berfoya-foya memang diketahui ramai. Rubber-tapir juga suka menanam tebu di tepi bibirnya yang panjang, kerana ramai perempuan yang terpedaya dengan pujuk rayu haiwan ini. Terutamanya perempuan yang sudah berkahwin.
Rubber-tapir juga diketahui sebagai tidak suka memakai kondom dan sejenis haiwan yang amat subur.
"Kami mengetahui kegiatan rubber-tapir yang mengganas sehingga melahirkan lebih 14 anak dengan satu ibu," kata Ahli Parlimen Bukit Lanjan Cik Elizabeth Wong.
"Namun, tiada apa yang boleh kami lakukan kerana spesis rubber-tapir dilindungi oleh WWF. Kami bimbang sekiranya Scottie 2 Hotty datang dan menghempap kami dengan gerakan penamatnya - The Worm."
Berhati-hatilah masyarakat Malaysia! Ancaman rubber-tapir terhadap gaya hidup kita dan kesucian isteri kita senantiasa diancam rubber-tapir - perogol bersiri paling durjana alaf ini!
Dah doa? Ok, kita teruskan hidup sebagaimana Yasmin inginkan kita teruskan hidup. Nanti bila kita mati, boleh tengok filem Yasmin.
Apapun, kita rakyat Malaysia sedang diancam oleh satu spesis yang amat ganas - rubber-tapir.
Mari saya jelaskan.
Ini adalah tapir biasa:
Spesis TAPIRUS INDICUS, sejenis haiwan herbivor yang tidak mengancam manusia
Ini pula adalah rubber-tapir:
TAPIRUS RAPIS BRASILIENSIS(Rubber-Tapir) - perogol bersiri yang amat subur
Rubber-tapir mempunyai kebolehan untuk mengubah bentuk dirinya menjadi apa saja yang diingini - termasuk manusia.
Semasa aku di sekolah rendah dahulu, ramai yang mengaku menjadi mangsa rubber-tapir. Atau sebenarnya, ibu mereka menjadi mangsa rubber-tapir durjana.
Apabila ditanya oleh cikgu Bahasa Inggeris, ramai yang menyatakan bahawa:
"My father is a rubber-tapir."
Menunjukkan yang rubber-tapir telah sama ada mengorat atau merogol ibu-ibu mereka dan kemudiannya meninggalkan sahaja perempuan-perempuan itu selepas mengandung.
Perangai rubber-tapir yang keji dan suka berfoya-foya memang diketahui ramai. Rubber-tapir juga suka menanam tebu di tepi bibirnya yang panjang, kerana ramai perempuan yang terpedaya dengan pujuk rayu haiwan ini. Terutamanya perempuan yang sudah berkahwin.
Rubber-tapir juga diketahui sebagai tidak suka memakai kondom dan sejenis haiwan yang amat subur.
"Kami mengetahui kegiatan rubber-tapir yang mengganas sehingga melahirkan lebih 14 anak dengan satu ibu," kata Ahli Parlimen Bukit Lanjan Cik Elizabeth Wong.
"Namun, tiada apa yang boleh kami lakukan kerana spesis rubber-tapir dilindungi oleh WWF. Kami bimbang sekiranya Scottie 2 Hotty datang dan menghempap kami dengan gerakan penamatnya - The Worm."
Berhati-hatilah masyarakat Malaysia! Ancaman rubber-tapir terhadap gaya hidup kita dan kesucian isteri kita senantiasa diancam rubber-tapir - perogol bersiri paling durjana alaf ini!
Tapir Hunter:
FINALLY!
Your own personal deity is coming BACK!
To KL!
It has been a very educational trip. Over 2000 shots taken.
I bought the fascilitators a chocolate hamper. Cause I wanted to thank them. Least I could do.
Never in a million years would I follow a travelling group. In a tour. So I decided to go with one.
It was very educational. I joined mainly to get information. And to try out a dslr with three different lenses.
Later, I will share some pictures of the elusive rubber-tapir.
The bus is almost there. I will post when I get back home.
Your own personal deity is coming BACK!
To KL!
It has been a very educational trip. Over 2000 shots taken.
I bought the fascilitators a chocolate hamper. Cause I wanted to thank them. Least I could do.
Never in a million years would I follow a travelling group. In a tour. So I decided to go with one.
It was very educational. I joined mainly to get information. And to try out a dslr with three different lenses.
Later, I will share some pictures of the elusive rubber-tapir.
The bus is almost there. I will post when I get back home.
Tapir Hunter: Mediterranean Fusion
Hibsyi! Hibsyi! Al falafel al Mustapha al hadri kis tanin!
Lakha lakha lakha lakha! Durga durga! Durga durga Muhammad Jihad!
I don't really enjoy Mediterranean food. Just not my plate of hummus.
But the luck of the draw has me in this mediterranean fusion restaurant. So far, the service has been fantastic. Fast and efficient, without intruding my privacy.
I had a gander at the menu. Can't order until the rest of the guests arrive, but I believe I will skip the meatballs.
The last time I had mediterranean meatballs, it tasted like unwashed, fried armpits, if the armpit was that of a sherpa who lives in Malaysia and climbs mountains all day long, and if the armpits never knew the sting of deodorant.
Am fond of hummus, and other things. I just hate the meatballs.
Man. I must be really tired. Chirping away like an old woman.
Now, some of the others have arrived. I suppose we can have a bit of a natter.
Cheerio!
Lakha lakha lakha lakha! Durga durga! Durga durga Muhammad Jihad!
I don't really enjoy Mediterranean food. Just not my plate of hummus.
But the luck of the draw has me in this mediterranean fusion restaurant. So far, the service has been fantastic. Fast and efficient, without intruding my privacy.
I had a gander at the menu. Can't order until the rest of the guests arrive, but I believe I will skip the meatballs.
The last time I had mediterranean meatballs, it tasted like unwashed, fried armpits, if the armpit was that of a sherpa who lives in Malaysia and climbs mountains all day long, and if the armpits never knew the sting of deodorant.
Am fond of hummus, and other things. I just hate the meatballs.
Man. I must be really tired. Chirping away like an old woman.
Now, some of the others have arrived. I suppose we can have a bit of a natter.
Cheerio!
Tapir Hunter: Signal to Noise
Apparently, this Blackberry can reach signals even close to the jungle.
Pretty cool.
Am at a corporate training site high above...the lower bits.
Personally, I hate corporate trainings, but the people I've met seem to enjoy it.
And apparently, according to one mural, being righteous is a good virtue! Hahahahahahaha!
Being righteous all the time can only give you pain and suffering.
Take it from the master.
This place reminds me of 80s marketing practices. Their philosophies.
How business is a state of mind. Blablabla.
Resurrected in the 21st century as part of New Age philosophy. Pop psychology.
Buddha, Krishna, Jesus, Muhammad alongside Tony Buzan.
Hahaha.
I've been reading up on them all.
Oh well. Always appreciate more information.
Ah. Somebody just stole my goody bag with a towel inside.
Mmmm...I guess corporate Malaysia is not as lucrative as it was before.
Oh well. If you HAVE to steal a towel, that means you must be doing real bad.
Good luck to you.
Now fuck off and die!
Pretty cool.
Am at a corporate training site high above...the lower bits.
Personally, I hate corporate trainings, but the people I've met seem to enjoy it.
And apparently, according to one mural, being righteous is a good virtue! Hahahahahahaha!
Being righteous all the time can only give you pain and suffering.
Take it from the master.
This place reminds me of 80s marketing practices. Their philosophies.
How business is a state of mind. Blablabla.
Resurrected in the 21st century as part of New Age philosophy. Pop psychology.
Buddha, Krishna, Jesus, Muhammad alongside Tony Buzan.
Hahaha.
I've been reading up on them all.
Oh well. Always appreciate more information.
Ah. Somebody just stole my goody bag with a towel inside.
Mmmm...I guess corporate Malaysia is not as lucrative as it was before.
Oh well. If you HAVE to steal a towel, that means you must be doing real bad.
Good luck to you.
Now fuck off and die!
Tapir Hunter: Running on Empty Full Stomachs
Am. Bloated. With chocolates.
Eating a pound of homemade chocolates probably was not a wise thing to do.
Now. On our way to. Last. Thing. Stop. Before. Go. For. Final. Stop. Home.
Man. I. Need to. Rest. After this very. Hectic. Schedule.
Ah. We are here.
Eating a pound of homemade chocolates probably was not a wise thing to do.
Now. On our way to. Last. Thing. Stop. Before. Go. For. Final. Stop. Home.
Man. I. Need to. Rest. After this very. Hectic. Schedule.
Ah. We are here.
Tapir Hunter: Victor Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Willy Wonka!
Willy Wonka!
The amazing chocolateer!
Willy Wonka!
Willy Wonka!
Everybody give a cheer!
We are off to a chocolate factory - a chocolate factory - a chocolate factory.
I feel like melted chocolate myself.
Two more stops. 200 shots to go.
I've taken over 2000 shots, and deleted more than half of them.
Most were crap. Some, are possiBILE. Yes. Bile.
Oh well.
Now, the third - or is it fifth?- tour guide is trying to coax the lone Japanese dude to sing. On the bus.
I will go to sleep now. FAST! Must have been that satay lunch.
Willy Wonka!
The amazing chocolateer!
Willy Wonka!
Willy Wonka!
Everybody give a cheer!
We are off to a chocolate factory - a chocolate factory - a chocolate factory.
I feel like melted chocolate myself.
Two more stops. 200 shots to go.
I've taken over 2000 shots, and deleted more than half of them.
Most were crap. Some, are possiBILE. Yes. Bile.
Oh well.
Now, the third - or is it fifth?- tour guide is trying to coax the lone Japanese dude to sing. On the bus.
I will go to sleep now. FAST! Must have been that satay lunch.
Tapir Hunter: Sperm Bank
I wanted to make a deposit just now, at the sperm bank, so that my genius can survive for another 5 years, should I die today (MoH regulates that all sperm samples be destroyed after 5 years unless they obtain a special permission.).
Man.
I am nearing the end of this tour.
Will be back later tonight. To do work and more work.
But first...satay!
Man.
I am nearing the end of this tour.
Will be back later tonight. To do work and more work.
But first...satay!
Tapir Hunter: Doriang Hantaa
Asagohang wa, gohang janai.
Doriang desu!
Kono nihong jin wa doriang ga suki desu.
Heng na koto, nihong jin desu.
Concordu Hoteru no pee aru wa, Chi-chi san desu.
Endo kun desu. Bijin-taipu desu.
Doriang wa tabemaseng deshita.
Shigoto o ikemasu.
Kono turip wa, bengkyo ni narina.
Ore wa, ningen o saitei na.
Demo, kono gurup wa ouw-ke-.
Ore wa, shizuka desu. Syasying ha, kamera de ...shimasu?
Kono, Arabu no hoteru met wa ouw-kee desu.
Nakama janai. Tomodachi desu.
Kinou, hakubutsukang to doubutsueng to restoranto e ikimashita.
Kyo wa, Kajang e, basu de ikimasu.
Ima wa, hashin junbi!
Thureee!
Too!
Won!
JEROOO!
Iiikee!
Hashaaaaa!
Ore wa, namida o naga sena ii - taratta!
Robotto dakara, mashin dakara - taratta.
Bui bui bui!
Biktori!
Combine, won too thuree!
Go Shogun! Hashin jero!
Doriang desu!
Kono nihong jin wa doriang ga suki desu.
Heng na koto, nihong jin desu.
Concordu Hoteru no pee aru wa, Chi-chi san desu.
Endo kun desu. Bijin-taipu desu.
Doriang wa tabemaseng deshita.
Shigoto o ikemasu.
Kono turip wa, bengkyo ni narina.
Ore wa, ningen o saitei na.
Demo, kono gurup wa ouw-ke-.
Ore wa, shizuka desu. Syasying ha, kamera de ...shimasu?
Kono, Arabu no hoteru met wa ouw-kee desu.
Nakama janai. Tomodachi desu.
Kinou, hakubutsukang to doubutsueng to restoranto e ikimashita.
Kyo wa, Kajang e, basu de ikimasu.
Ima wa, hashin junbi!
Thureee!
Too!
Won!
JEROOO!
Iiikee!
Hashaaaaa!
Ore wa, namida o naga sena ii - taratta!
Robotto dakara, mashin dakara - taratta.
Bui bui bui!
Biktori!
Combine, won too thuree!
Go Shogun! Hashin jero!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Tapir Hunter: Radio Silence
My Blackberry's battery is almost out.
Means I'm gonna go on a total communications blackout soon.
See you on the other side.
Means I'm gonna go on a total communications blackout soon.
See you on the other side.
Tapir Hunter: Success!
Finally! Real tapirs!
I was also looking for the elusive rubber-tapirs. Tapirs who tap rubber trees, drink the latex, and can stretch itself to 10 times its original length.
The rubber-tapirs are the only known animals with a valid superpower, though some species of skew-urrels (my 'kew' key is still fucked) have exhibited super-speed when taking lots of caffeine and sugar.
Rubber-tapirs are indigenous to Malaysia and therefore we need to protect anyone who might be threatened by some rubber-tapirs who turned to a life of crime.
I was also looking for the elusive rubber-tapirs. Tapirs who tap rubber trees, drink the latex, and can stretch itself to 10 times its original length.
The rubber-tapirs are the only known animals with a valid superpower, though some species of skew-urrels (my 'kew' key is still fucked) have exhibited super-speed when taking lots of caffeine and sugar.
Rubber-tapirs are indigenous to Malaysia and therefore we need to protect anyone who might be threatened by some rubber-tapirs who turned to a life of crime.
Tapir Hunter: The Islams, Yo!
I just took a bunch of photos at the Islams' museum/gallery thingy.
Oh wait. Taman Seni Islam.
Any of you Islams want to know more about ancient Korans or learn Arabic calligraphy, this is the place to be.
Last night, we reached the hotel at close to 12 midnight. Slept at 2am. Woke up at 6.15am today.
Found out that -thank Asgard! - the departure time has moved forward an hour.
Thank Asgard, cause I forgot to charge the camera's batteries.
Just over an hour with the wall socket is just what it needs.
Am taking pics of people doing Khat - Arabic calligraphy.
The museum/gallery seems active enough, for people interested in the rich cultural heritage of the Islams.
Next - Tapir hunting!
Cor! Blimey! Ta!
Oh wait. Taman Seni Islam.
Any of you Islams want to know more about ancient Korans or learn Arabic calligraphy, this is the place to be.
Last night, we reached the hotel at close to 12 midnight. Slept at 2am. Woke up at 6.15am today.
Found out that -thank Asgard! - the departure time has moved forward an hour.
Thank Asgard, cause I forgot to charge the camera's batteries.
Just over an hour with the wall socket is just what it needs.
Am taking pics of people doing Khat - Arabic calligraphy.
The museum/gallery seems active enough, for people interested in the rich cultural heritage of the Islams.
Next - Tapir hunting!
Cor! Blimey! Ta!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Yasmin's Gone
Yasmin Ahmad, the storyteller, passed away tonight, according to Bernama.
Ah, man. Why now, huh?
Fuck it all to hell.
We used to have these long chats, as she does with lots of people, really.
She liked artsy movies. From artsy people.
I liked to find art in stupidly commercial shit.
She thought that being dark and cynical was made popular by a sinister force.
I thought that sinister force was just me.
She made movies that touched many people.
I aim to one day make movies that would touch me.
She was annoyingly positive and cheerful, no matter what people say.
Those jealous of how she was accepted, kept on repeating her hidden secrets and mistakes.
She was no angel. She was as much an angel as much as I am Lucifer Morningstar.
She was human, and that was what she reminded each and every one of us.
I am sticking to my work. My assignment. My aspect. My function.
I shall pay my last respects when I get back home.
But damn, man.
Oh well. I guess we all gotta go sometime.
And she went, never compromising on her philosophies.
Cheers, Yasmin. Thanks for showing us the light you believe in.
See you when we get there.
Ah, man. Why now, huh?
Fuck it all to hell.
We used to have these long chats, as she does with lots of people, really.
She liked artsy movies. From artsy people.
I liked to find art in stupidly commercial shit.
She thought that being dark and cynical was made popular by a sinister force.
I thought that sinister force was just me.
She made movies that touched many people.
I aim to one day make movies that would touch me.
She was annoyingly positive and cheerful, no matter what people say.
Those jealous of how she was accepted, kept on repeating her hidden secrets and mistakes.
She was no angel. She was as much an angel as much as I am Lucifer Morningstar.
She was human, and that was what she reminded each and every one of us.
I am sticking to my work. My assignment. My aspect. My function.
I shall pay my last respects when I get back home.
But damn, man.
Oh well. I guess we all gotta go sometime.
And she went, never compromising on her philosophies.
Cheers, Yasmin. Thanks for showing us the light you believe in.
See you when we get there.
Tapir Hunter: Grave of the Fireflies
I tried, using standard gear, to take pictures of fireflies.
At first, my camera refused to take shots. Any shots.
So I tried changing lenses. On a small, rickety boat. In total darkness.
Fuck.
My boatmates were saying that God does not want me to take photos of fireflies.
I think it has more to do with science and my lack of understanding the gear.
A person from the computer age, I turned my camera off and on again, hoping it was the camera's RAM or Bus being clogged.
SLRs don't have RAMs and Buses.
Then it hit me. The fucking auto-focus! Fuck auto-focus!
D'oh!
So using my Blackberry as a torchlight, I switched to manual focus.
Finally, I was able to take photos.
Try taking pin-points of light in total darkness, with no tripod, on a boat, in total darkness.
All I got were splotches of light. Some photos are a maybe, but no Nat-Geo magazine submissions, I guess.
Some decent shots, but man I had to sweat for every single one.
At first, my camera refused to take shots. Any shots.
So I tried changing lenses. On a small, rickety boat. In total darkness.
Fuck.
My boatmates were saying that God does not want me to take photos of fireflies.
I think it has more to do with science and my lack of understanding the gear.
A person from the computer age, I turned my camera off and on again, hoping it was the camera's RAM or Bus being clogged.
SLRs don't have RAMs and Buses.
Then it hit me. The fucking auto-focus! Fuck auto-focus!
D'oh!
So using my Blackberry as a torchlight, I switched to manual focus.
Finally, I was able to take photos.
Try taking pin-points of light in total darkness, with no tripod, on a boat, in total darkness.
All I got were splotches of light. Some photos are a maybe, but no Nat-Geo magazine submissions, I guess.
Some decent shots, but man I had to sweat for every single one.
Tapir Hunter: Going Ape
Best picture for today, so far, concerns monkeys.
So far, because there is a chance to snap fireflies. Soon. We are on our way.
I don't have a tripod, but will test how much I've learned about photography and how steady my hands can be as well as my skills with improvisation.
And also - human engineering. Social skills. Politics.
All for fireflies.
So far, because there is a chance to snap fireflies. Soon. We are on our way.
I don't have a tripod, but will test how much I've learned about photography and how steady my hands can be as well as my skills with improvisation.
And also - human engineering. Social skills. Politics.
All for fireflies.
Tapir Hunter: Nasi Ambank
Guess what I'm having for dinner?
I guess I need to complete my tribal experience by having Nasi Ambank. I wonder why Maybank or Public Bank don't have their own dish?
According to our makeshift host, Nasi Ambank promotes close relationship amongst people.
"Ah," said I. "Like in a Jewish Kibbutz."
Fortunately, they were not really listening to me - the strange Chinese-looking dude with a Malay name and Jewish sensibilities.
In this group, it's all about who is loudest and I am happy to slip silently by, taking my photos in stealth mode.
I would rise to the occassional tease and rowdy loud joking, as I am not as awkward as I was with people years ago.
However, I am more of a lonely traveller. The best times I had travelling were with myself.
I avoid groups like the plague, which is why I thought joining this tour would be good for me.
My single-serving friends for this trip are all the outcasts. There's one Arab, and a Japanese dude with durian as his company name.
The Japanese loves durian, nangka, and all manner of aromatic fruits, but he abhors cempedak.
Oh my God. The tour guide is initiating zapin since the band is playing ghazal.
Oh well. When in Rome...
But.
THIS.
IS.
KUALA SELANGOR!!!
I guess I need to complete my tribal experience by having Nasi Ambank. I wonder why Maybank or Public Bank don't have their own dish?
According to our makeshift host, Nasi Ambank promotes close relationship amongst people.
"Ah," said I. "Like in a Jewish Kibbutz."
Fortunately, they were not really listening to me - the strange Chinese-looking dude with a Malay name and Jewish sensibilities.
In this group, it's all about who is loudest and I am happy to slip silently by, taking my photos in stealth mode.
I would rise to the occassional tease and rowdy loud joking, as I am not as awkward as I was with people years ago.
However, I am more of a lonely traveller. The best times I had travelling were with myself.
I avoid groups like the plague, which is why I thought joining this tour would be good for me.
My single-serving friends for this trip are all the outcasts. There's one Arab, and a Japanese dude with durian as his company name.
The Japanese loves durian, nangka, and all manner of aromatic fruits, but he abhors cempedak.
Oh my God. The tour guide is initiating zapin since the band is playing ghazal.
Oh well. When in Rome...
But.
THIS.
IS.
KUALA SELANGOR!!!
Tapir Hunter: Going Native
Cor! Tribes over here at Pew-tray-jay-ah are all beauts!
Like goin' back into the jungle, but we're in the city!
But they're such gentle creatures. More afraid of you than you are of them.
My camera will look for different angles to capture them, in the wild.
Like goin' back into the jungle, but we're in the city!
But they're such gentle creatures. More afraid of you than you are of them.
My camera will look for different angles to capture them, in the wild.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Mabuk-mabuk Kepayang: Siri Bercakap Dengan Tin: LL Cool C
I was hanging out with my friend LL Cool C, when he started talking about se - about Turkish Delights. Yeah, that's right. Fucking sugar and gelatin. In a non-gay manner. At first.
LL Cool C: So, how do you like it?
Me: What? Turkish Delights? If the girl enjoys it as much as I do. Which means, female ejaculation....in the process of making Turkish Delights, of course. You?
LLCC: To me, it's the face as they come -
Me: - to work, at Turkish Delight factories, right?
LLCC: Yeah, that's right. So...best you ever had?
Me: Atchaya. Ann. Omm. Fantastic Turkish Delights, all.
LLCC: How good?
Me: Seven Positions of Buddha.
LLCC: How?
Me: You ever seen the Marica Reyes videos?
LLCC: Yeah.
Me: Times seven. Now THAT'S how we fucking roll! From now on, that's how we FUCKING ROLL!
LLCC: Turkish Delights, of course.
Me: Of course. You?
LLCC: Anne. Milk. That's it.
Me: How good is your Anne?
LLCC: It started off as raw animal energy. And after that...
Me: Fuck, man. Don't tell me you're one of those people.
LLCC: We didn't want to make love or anything. But -
Me: But you did! You fucking sick bastard! Fucking with emotion or emoticons is a felony! Motherfucker! What's the first rule of Fuck Club?
LLCC: Never fall in love.
Me: And the second rule of Fuck Club is?
LLCC: Never fall in love. Ever.
Me: Third rule, no shit, no blues.
LLCC: Fourth rule, fucks will go on as long as they have to.
Me: Fifth rule. If a person goes limp, taps out, the fuck is over.
LLCC: Sixth rule - one fuck at a time.
Me: And the seventh and final rule - if this is your first night, you have to fuck.
LLCC: ...
Me: In a Turkish Delight kinda way, of course.
LLCC: Of course.
LL Cool C: So, how do you like it?
Me: What? Turkish Delights? If the girl enjoys it as much as I do. Which means, female ejaculation....in the process of making Turkish Delights, of course. You?
LLCC: To me, it's the face as they come -
Me: - to work, at Turkish Delight factories, right?
LLCC: Yeah, that's right. So...best you ever had?
Me: Atchaya. Ann. Omm. Fantastic Turkish Delights, all.
LLCC: How good?
Me: Seven Positions of Buddha.
LLCC: How?
Me: You ever seen the Marica Reyes videos?
LLCC: Yeah.
Me: Times seven. Now THAT'S how we fucking roll! From now on, that's how we FUCKING ROLL!
LLCC: Turkish Delights, of course.
Me: Of course. You?
LLCC: Anne. Milk. That's it.
Me: How good is your Anne?
LLCC: It started off as raw animal energy. And after that...
Me: Fuck, man. Don't tell me you're one of those people.
LLCC: We didn't want to make love or anything. But -
Me: But you did! You fucking sick bastard! Fucking with emotion or emoticons is a felony! Motherfucker! What's the first rule of Fuck Club?
LLCC: Never fall in love.
Me: And the second rule of Fuck Club is?
LLCC: Never fall in love. Ever.
Me: Third rule, no shit, no blues.
LLCC: Fourth rule, fucks will go on as long as they have to.
Me: Fifth rule. If a person goes limp, taps out, the fuck is over.
LLCC: Sixth rule - one fuck at a time.
Me: And the seventh and final rule - if this is your first night, you have to fuck.
LLCC: ...
Me: In a Turkish Delight kinda way, of course.
LLCC: Of course.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tales from the Drunk Side: The Divide
There are gaps and divides everywhere.
In Neon Genesis Evangelion, it is said that humans separate themselves using an Absolute Terror field.
There is no reason for fear, between humans.
They are just as human as you. With just as many fuck ups.
Take me for example. I'm the handsomest guy ever. EVER!
But that doesn't mean I'm a mean motherfucker.
In most cases, I'm too wrapped up in my own world to actually give a fuck.
I do what needs to be done. I do my job. As best I can.
Right now, I'm drinking. So I drink as best I can. Pretty soon, I'll be doing something stupid again. So I'll do the best stupid thing I can.
When it's time to do something else, I'll do that instead.
Maybe sleep. Fuck?
But now, right now, I'm drinking. So I drink.
In Neon Genesis Evangelion, it is said that humans separate themselves using an Absolute Terror field.
There is no reason for fear, between humans.
They are just as human as you. With just as many fuck ups.
Take me for example. I'm the handsomest guy ever. EVER!
But that doesn't mean I'm a mean motherfucker.
In most cases, I'm too wrapped up in my own world to actually give a fuck.
I do what needs to be done. I do my job. As best I can.
Right now, I'm drinking. So I drink as best I can. Pretty soon, I'll be doing something stupid again. So I'll do the best stupid thing I can.
When it's time to do something else, I'll do that instead.
Maybe sleep. Fuck?
But now, right now, I'm drinking. So I drink.
Yasmin and Other Movies
Man. What a day.
As you may have read on blogs and forums online, Yasmin Ahmad is currently under observation in ICU.
She is a good friend to many people, myself included. Her movies, while not in my top 40, are important. For one, they convinced arrogant people like me that there are ways to make movies that you are not ashamed of.
And that success does not have to come with hubris.
Oops, my friend is downstairs. Am going out. But am skipping Press Club tonight. Have to be fresh for tomorrow's four day journey.
As you may have read on blogs and forums online, Yasmin Ahmad is currently under observation in ICU.
She is a good friend to many people, myself included. Her movies, while not in my top 40, are important. For one, they convinced arrogant people like me that there are ways to make movies that you are not ashamed of.
And that success does not have to come with hubris.
Oops, my friend is downstairs. Am going out. But am skipping Press Club tonight. Have to be fresh for tomorrow's four day journey.
Yasmin Ahmad's sudden medical complication threw me off.
I finished my tasks and went towards the hospital where she is.
I find myself, a couple of hours later, having steak at a house-turned restaurant. I got lost.
She gave me time of day and answered a lot of my curiosities when others did not.
The thing she tried to teach me, was "so what?".
And that you can be corny, without giving a fuck.
I just needed this dinner, before going to the hospital.
I finished my tasks and went towards the hospital where she is.
I find myself, a couple of hours later, having steak at a house-turned restaurant. I got lost.
She gave me time of day and answered a lot of my curiosities when others did not.
The thing she tried to teach me, was "so what?".
And that you can be corny, without giving a fuck.
I just needed this dinner, before going to the hospital.
Messed-Up
I was rushing to my next appointment when I found out that one of my friends had just passed away.
Then, I got news that she did not.
I was in a meeting, so I pushed as many things as fast as possible, and went to the appointment.
I was late, but managed to do things properly.
As soon as I left the meeting, my brain became jammed again.
Projects, assignments, my trip tomorrow, blablabla.
Add to that, the Wookie beside me likes to poke.
So I am on my way to the hospital, to see my friend, hoping she will be fine.
I need to let go of the baggage inside my head before I enter the place.
So, I'm thinking of porn.
Then, I got news that she did not.
I was in a meeting, so I pushed as many things as fast as possible, and went to the appointment.
I was late, but managed to do things properly.
As soon as I left the meeting, my brain became jammed again.
Projects, assignments, my trip tomorrow, blablabla.
Add to that, the Wookie beside me likes to poke.
So I am on my way to the hospital, to see my friend, hoping she will be fine.
I need to let go of the baggage inside my head before I enter the place.
So, I'm thinking of porn.
Gear
Gearing up for a 4-day trip.
A laptop. A dslr camera. A flash unit. Spare lenses - a wide-angle and a telephoto.
A tripod. Assorted cables. Spare batteries. Chargers.
Six t-shirts. Two shorts.
Five underwears.
Cash!
Mmm...
I will be unavailable starting tomorrow till Monday.
And then off for two days after that.
Lots and lots of pictures. A few stories.
A laptop. A dslr camera. A flash unit. Spare lenses - a wide-angle and a telephoto.
A tripod. Assorted cables. Spare batteries. Chargers.
Six t-shirts. Two shorts.
Five underwears.
Cash!
Mmm...
I will be unavailable starting tomorrow till Monday.
And then off for two days after that.
Lots and lots of pictures. A few stories.
If You are a Gorilla, then, It's Yours!
Okay, I'm old.
Apparently, kids nowadays did not watch TV Pendidikan. They never knew Wazata Zain - the Aznil Hj Nawawi of TV Pendidikan.
They never saw that episode on English, about possessive nouns or something. They even had a song!
Is this your coat, or Fauziah's?
Try it on and you will see.
Where is Bong? He's there -
Looking everywhere
And every coat he TRIES
Either is too small
or doesn't fit at all
He can find one his siiiiize!
Is this your coat, or Fauziah's?
Try it on and you will know.
Yes it's your coat
All of you take note.
Put it on and you wiiiiilllll goooo...
They had these jokes, see? Little puns and small jokes.
"That is a gorilla's coat. If you are a gorilla, then, it's yours!"
Man! TV Pendidikan is a national fucking treasure. They should sell DVDs of it, or upload it on Youtube. I'll buy the whole bunch.
And that's not counting Dengarlah Sayang, Alam Ria Cuti Sekolah
A-LAM RI-A Cuti Sekolah!
Blablablablablabla Bersama andaaaaa
And a whole bunch of children's shows.
I guess they also do not remember Shelley Duvall's Fairy Tale Theatre. Or Lois, Sharon and Brams' The Elephant Show.
Skinimarink-a-dink-a-dink
Skinimarink-a-dooo!
The Curiosity Shop. The Storyteller.
Of course, I never saw Howdy Doody.
Apparently, kids nowadays did not watch TV Pendidikan. They never knew Wazata Zain - the Aznil Hj Nawawi of TV Pendidikan.
They never saw that episode on English, about possessive nouns or something. They even had a song!
Is this your coat, or Fauziah's?
Try it on and you will see.
Where is Bong? He's there -
Looking everywhere
And every coat he TRIES
Either is too small
or doesn't fit at all
He can find one his siiiiize!
Is this your coat, or Fauziah's?
Try it on and you will know.
Yes it's your coat
All of you take note.
Put it on and you wiiiiilllll goooo...
They had these jokes, see? Little puns and small jokes.
"That is a gorilla's coat. If you are a gorilla, then, it's yours!"
Man! TV Pendidikan is a national fucking treasure. They should sell DVDs of it, or upload it on Youtube. I'll buy the whole bunch.
And that's not counting Dengarlah Sayang, Alam Ria Cuti Sekolah
A-LAM RI-A Cuti Sekolah!
Blablablablablabla Bersama andaaaaa
And a whole bunch of children's shows.
I guess they also do not remember Shelley Duvall's Fairy Tale Theatre. Or Lois, Sharon and Brams' The Elephant Show.
Skinimarink-a-dink-a-dink
Skinimarink-a-dooo!
The Curiosity Shop. The Storyteller.
Of course, I never saw Howdy Doody.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Perfect Murder?
You know, if I wanted to kill somebody, I would invite him to my home in front of everyone.
And then, I'm going to stab him, in my house.
And leave the body there.
That way, no one can say that it was me who did it.
Right?
I'm such a fucking genius.
And then, I'm going to stab him, in my house.
And leave the body there.
That way, no one can say that it was me who did it.
Right?
I'm such a fucking genius.
Roving, Rambling, Gambling Man
Some people called me up and asked me about other people.
These people are like this. These people are like that.
My response would be, okay, what did you see him do?
What did they write?
And the response would be, "Nothing. Just normal stuff."
People are generally quick to pass judgment. And often prefers following general consensus rather than make up their own minds.
When they do, make up their own minds that is, then they are afraid of being wrong. Or that people don't agree with them.
Everyone's been wrong before. And everyone can't all agree on one issue. It's impossible.
People are individuals who want to combine into one giant entity.
It explains sex - two or more become one? Geddit?
Man, I'm not going to tell people how to think.
I can't wait to fucking travel.
Need to get away from everything, and since my Bangkok trip got cancelled, it would be fucking fantastic to just coast and see some sights.
Or some real cows.
Soon.
These people are like this. These people are like that.
My response would be, okay, what did you see him do?
What did they write?
And the response would be, "Nothing. Just normal stuff."
People are generally quick to pass judgment. And often prefers following general consensus rather than make up their own minds.
When they do, make up their own minds that is, then they are afraid of being wrong. Or that people don't agree with them.
Everyone's been wrong before. And everyone can't all agree on one issue. It's impossible.
People are individuals who want to combine into one giant entity.
It explains sex - two or more become one? Geddit?
Man, I'm not going to tell people how to think.
I can't wait to fucking travel.
Need to get away from everything, and since my Bangkok trip got cancelled, it would be fucking fantastic to just coast and see some sights.
Or some real cows.
Soon.
Tales from the Drunk Side: Cinque Numero Perfetto
I wait. In the darkness. Like a tyger. No, not a tiger. Tyger.
5asec is cinque-a-sec. Not Five-a-sec, you fucking idiot. And cinque is pronounced 'sonq'. Cause it's fucking Italian.
Machismo prima verde.
What the fuck?
Four limbs and a head. Makes cinque. Said Igort. Is a mafia comics. So...dramatic. So fucking 'oh the drama'.
You wanna take me on, bitch? Suck my dick. I see hypocrisy and I let it slide. Like liquidy thing. Two hydrogens and an oxygen thing. Off a duck's back.
What would Dr M do? Tai chi you back to Timbuktu.
Some people. So...afraid. Of whatever. Hahahaha.
I wanna fuck Rachel Kum. I wanna kum in her kumquats. I want to in-out-in-out without resorting to the old ultra-violence.
The Milk bar sold milk with Kalashnikov. Milk with Dragunov. Milk with Vassily on the Dragunov SVD.
Suck my dick.
5asec is cinque-a-sec. Not Five-a-sec, you fucking idiot. And cinque is pronounced 'sonq'. Cause it's fucking Italian.
Machismo prima verde.
What the fuck?
Four limbs and a head. Makes cinque. Said Igort. Is a mafia comics. So...dramatic. So fucking 'oh the drama'.
You wanna take me on, bitch? Suck my dick. I see hypocrisy and I let it slide. Like liquidy thing. Two hydrogens and an oxygen thing. Off a duck's back.
What would Dr M do? Tai chi you back to Timbuktu.
Some people. So...afraid. Of whatever. Hahahaha.
I wanna fuck Rachel Kum. I wanna kum in her kumquats. I want to in-out-in-out without resorting to the old ultra-violence.
The Milk bar sold milk with Kalashnikov. Milk with Dragunov. Milk with Vassily on the Dragunov SVD.
Suck my dick.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Tales from the Drunk Side: Babi
So I walked into this pub, see?
I sat my ass down.
And this fucker next to me said, "You know what I feel like eating right now?"
Me: What? Pussy?
Ar***: No lah, you fucker! I feel like eating Quaker Oats.
Me: You fucker! My q key is fucked la, motherfucker!
But Quaker oats does lower cholesterol.
A question comes to mind. Without going to my place with the bloody oaf, where does one find Quaker oats at this hour?
What are we doing here, stuck smack dab in the middle of the Malaysian dream?
I sat my ass down.
And this fucker next to me said, "You know what I feel like eating right now?"
Me: What? Pussy?
Ar***: No lah, you fucker! I feel like eating Quaker Oats.
Me: You fucker! My q key is fucked la, motherfucker!
But Quaker oats does lower cholesterol.
A question comes to mind. Without going to my place with the bloody oaf, where does one find Quaker oats at this hour?
What are we doing here, stuck smack dab in the middle of the Malaysian dream?
Monday, July 20, 2009
Mondays
Ahhh... That hit the spot.
We interrupt this drink with a fast-breaking news story!
Hello, boys and girls! I am Kermit the Frog from Newsflash.
While we wait for the story to unfold, let's talk about Mondays.
I like Mondays.
Almost everyone is at work and you can damn near accomplish anything on Monday.
Try that on Friday.
Monday is fresh. Monday is work.
Do the right things on Monday, and no one can fuck with you for the rest of the week.
...Maybe I should do the wrong things, then.
And I don't feel like standing near windows.
Now if you'll excuse me, duty calls.
A cold drink in the middle of a sweltering afternoon.
And stories of conspiracies and men in trench coats(in the sweltering afternoon heat). And sunglasses.
Yet, I am so fucking cool. I want to tongue my own ass.
We interrupt this drink with a fast-breaking news story!
Hello, boys and girls! I am Kermit the Frog from Newsflash.
While we wait for the story to unfold, let's talk about Mondays.
I like Mondays.
Almost everyone is at work and you can damn near accomplish anything on Monday.
Try that on Friday.
Monday is fresh. Monday is work.
Do the right things on Monday, and no one can fuck with you for the rest of the week.
...Maybe I should do the wrong things, then.
And I don't feel like standing near windows.
Now if you'll excuse me, duty calls.
A cold drink in the middle of a sweltering afternoon.
And stories of conspiracies and men in trench coats(in the sweltering afternoon heat). And sunglasses.
Yet, I am so fucking cool. I want to tongue my own ass.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The Last Voyage
Captain Yusof, the blogger known as The Ancient Mariner passed away last night.
I did not know him for long. I knew that he was an old sailor, and I have always liked listening to tales from old sailors. And that maybe if I'm rich enough one day, I might even take up sailing. If I can ever deal with my fear of big things underneath dark waters.
Earlier this year, he went on a journey to retrace the route his ancestors - the Bugis - took in the old days. Sea routes, that is.
Apparently the Bugis left their seed all over this region. I listened to quite a few Bugis pirate stories from the man. And near-rambunctious, swashbuckling tales of his own youth.
How he decided to run off and become a sailor, drawn to the sea, and only coming back years later.
Always jolly - easy with a laugh and a chuckle. He reminded me, of Harlan Ellisson, whom I never met. And of my own maternal grandfather, who often recounted tales of his pilgrimage to Mecca, aboard a bloody ship.
The Captain lost his mother recently - last week, in fact - which I did not know until today.
These two months - June and July - have been months of sickness and of death. For all of you out there, stay safe.
And for the Captain, may you sail to whatever land we Bugis go to after we die. And they bloody well have a good beach.
Remember, second star to the right, and straight on till morning.
I did not know him for long. I knew that he was an old sailor, and I have always liked listening to tales from old sailors. And that maybe if I'm rich enough one day, I might even take up sailing. If I can ever deal with my fear of big things underneath dark waters.
Earlier this year, he went on a journey to retrace the route his ancestors - the Bugis - took in the old days. Sea routes, that is.
Apparently the Bugis left their seed all over this region. I listened to quite a few Bugis pirate stories from the man. And near-rambunctious, swashbuckling tales of his own youth.
How he decided to run off and become a sailor, drawn to the sea, and only coming back years later.
Always jolly - easy with a laugh and a chuckle. He reminded me, of Harlan Ellisson, whom I never met. And of my own maternal grandfather, who often recounted tales of his pilgrimage to Mecca, aboard a bloody ship.
The Captain lost his mother recently - last week, in fact - which I did not know until today.
These two months - June and July - have been months of sickness and of death. For all of you out there, stay safe.
And for the Captain, may you sail to whatever land we Bugis go to after we die. And they bloody well have a good beach.
Remember, second star to the right, and straight on till morning.
Freestyle Association
Kangkong, in English, is 'morning glory', which, when translated lackadaisically, means 'seri pagi', which is a Malay kuih.
It has two layers - one white and another - the one on top - green. The white layer is made up of glutinous rice, and the green one is pandan and rice flour(?).
'Jaket karet' is Bahasa Indonesia for condoms.
I believe the etymology is because 'karet', maybe carrots, is a reference to the shape of a dick.
A cock jacket. Makes sense, I guess.
Cilantro looks like 'daun sup'.
Talking abour carrots, I recently found out that 'carats', with a 'c' is for diamonds. Because of carat seeds, I guess.
'Karats', with a 'K', is for gold. It is the purity of the thing.
Gold is only created at supernovas. Only when a star blows up, since it's fucking stable. So stable, it doesn't react with oxygen, so no oxidisation, hence no rust. Therefore, valuable.
There is an industry in Japan where they buy old electronics and mine it for gold. Because a tonne of electronics yields more gold than a tonne of gold ore. And gold, as well as silver, is used on circuit boards as super-conductors or some shit like that.
Carrots also have beta-carotene. It was the subject of a study recently, in 2006, where it was suggested that beta-carotene raises the risk of cancer by 80++ per cent.
So eat lots of carrots, improve your eyesight, and have cancer?
Condoms, are not that effective. Around 86 per cent for most things. And lower, in some cases.
Chris Rock said, "If AIDS can creep through the skin of your dick, then what about your NUTS?"
Makes sense, I guess. Condoms should include the nuts.
You know what they used as condoms in the old days? Sheeps' intestines and galvanised rubber.
Galvanised rubber is poisonous.
The chewing gum used to be manufactired using rubber. Nowadays, they use a sap from a tree. Jelutong, I think.
Karpal Singh. He should go bald. And say, "Come to me, my X-Men!" And Anwar would come running.
Okay then. Am off to bed now. Am done for the night.
Cheers!
It has two layers - one white and another - the one on top - green. The white layer is made up of glutinous rice, and the green one is pandan and rice flour(?).
'Jaket karet' is Bahasa Indonesia for condoms.
I believe the etymology is because 'karet', maybe carrots, is a reference to the shape of a dick.
A cock jacket. Makes sense, I guess.
Cilantro looks like 'daun sup'.
Talking abour carrots, I recently found out that 'carats', with a 'c' is for diamonds. Because of carat seeds, I guess.
'Karats', with a 'K', is for gold. It is the purity of the thing.
Gold is only created at supernovas. Only when a star blows up, since it's fucking stable. So stable, it doesn't react with oxygen, so no oxidisation, hence no rust. Therefore, valuable.
There is an industry in Japan where they buy old electronics and mine it for gold. Because a tonne of electronics yields more gold than a tonne of gold ore. And gold, as well as silver, is used on circuit boards as super-conductors or some shit like that.
Carrots also have beta-carotene. It was the subject of a study recently, in 2006, where it was suggested that beta-carotene raises the risk of cancer by 80++ per cent.
So eat lots of carrots, improve your eyesight, and have cancer?
Condoms, are not that effective. Around 86 per cent for most things. And lower, in some cases.
Chris Rock said, "If AIDS can creep through the skin of your dick, then what about your NUTS?"
Makes sense, I guess. Condoms should include the nuts.
You know what they used as condoms in the old days? Sheeps' intestines and galvanised rubber.
Galvanised rubber is poisonous.
The chewing gum used to be manufactired using rubber. Nowadays, they use a sap from a tree. Jelutong, I think.
Karpal Singh. He should go bald. And say, "Come to me, my X-Men!" And Anwar would come running.
Okay then. Am off to bed now. Am done for the night.
Cheers!
House of M: Pride AFTER the Fall
As one of the most arrogant motherfuckers ever, and possessing the world's biggest ego, I can safely say a lot of shit about hubris.
For one, arrogance is stupid. It will make you complacent. You will start taking things for granted. Things will do things by itself. The keyboard will write the story on its own.
Things will be okay, no matter what you do.
Well, in a Buddhist way, it will be. In astronomical views, nothing matters. People who study astronomy are generally more relaxed. Why? Because they see the big picture. No. Bigger.
I never studied astronomy, but some freaks who do, whom I know, you know what they talk about? Well, the smallest thing would be the survival of the species.
When you look across aeons, or eons - I fucking hate the dual spelling - everything seems trivial.
Things that could be so big on the moment, like a sharp comment or a cynical, even snide remark, a praise - everything - it is all inconsequential. We all are inconsequential, in the end. We are the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
Pride got the old media. New York Times. Washington Post. Baltimore Sun. All of it. All the shit. Everything.
You can see this especially in big businesses, big companies.
When you constantly screw the little people, when you believe you are above people - anyone - you set yourself up for the fall.
The higher you think you are, the bigger, the steeper, the longer the fall.
It's like in Dragonball. I'll get to that later.
The media is simply a collection of, well, shit through which information passes through.
We are cooks. We do not create the data. We are not the source of information. We merely present it in a way that is perhaps easier to digest.
All the media, several decades ago, were more or less a bulletin board in print.
When the media took on a personality, or personalities took on the media, that's when they - we - started our long fall.
Going back to the cook analogy, if people don't like our shit, they might go to a different restaurant, or simply cook up the ingredients themselves.
There will always be a need for cooks, as there would always be a need for content creators.
Stupid shit you do, like if the food or the news is late. Or if it's not cooked up to perfection, as ordered, or if it gives poisoning or indigestion, will affect the one thing that is the life or death for restaurants and newspapers - reputation.
Like in Dragonball. Every time you use Dragonballs, a small crack appears inside. One day, the seven Dragonballs will hatch seven dragons whom Goku has to fight. Spoiler alert!
And as we have our heads in the clouds, people fill in the vacuum with something else. Better? Worse? Who cares? It's something else. Something OTHER.
People can only eat the same shit for a limited number of time. After a while, they'll swing to something else.
That's why Madonna re-invented herself many times over the years. Why the late Michael Jackson came up with different dance moves for each album. Why the most successful artists throw variation into their theme. I mean, the Coen Brothers would always have a character who is the Unstoppable Evil in their movies, but it's never the same story. Guy Ritchie does great caper movies, but it's never the same movie.
Point is, the content may stay the same, but the forms must change.
One-trick ponies end up in Vegas. And not at Caesar's Palace. Maybe at a sad, small hotel-casino, where some B-grade star died, hoping, praying for budget travellers with a penchant for the old. And even those guys - the proprietors - would change every so often.
In Thailand, the girls would stay at any establishment for as long as they feel they are in contribution to the thing. As soon as they think they have become boring, they most probably will move on.
There is a place for consistency, and for loyalty. Always, always a place. In a world which will not stop spinning until a few million years more at least, a constant is just as priceless as a chameleon.
Omnia mutantor, nihil inherit. Everything changes, nothing is truly lost.
Look at these frailties, ye mighty, and be humbled. The geeks shall inherit the earth.
For one, arrogance is stupid. It will make you complacent. You will start taking things for granted. Things will do things by itself. The keyboard will write the story on its own.
Things will be okay, no matter what you do.
Well, in a Buddhist way, it will be. In astronomical views, nothing matters. People who study astronomy are generally more relaxed. Why? Because they see the big picture. No. Bigger.
I never studied astronomy, but some freaks who do, whom I know, you know what they talk about? Well, the smallest thing would be the survival of the species.
When you look across aeons, or eons - I fucking hate the dual spelling - everything seems trivial.
Things that could be so big on the moment, like a sharp comment or a cynical, even snide remark, a praise - everything - it is all inconsequential. We all are inconsequential, in the end. We are the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
Pride got the old media. New York Times. Washington Post. Baltimore Sun. All of it. All the shit. Everything.
You can see this especially in big businesses, big companies.
When you constantly screw the little people, when you believe you are above people - anyone - you set yourself up for the fall.
The higher you think you are, the bigger, the steeper, the longer the fall.
It's like in Dragonball. I'll get to that later.
The media is simply a collection of, well, shit through which information passes through.
We are cooks. We do not create the data. We are not the source of information. We merely present it in a way that is perhaps easier to digest.
All the media, several decades ago, were more or less a bulletin board in print.
When the media took on a personality, or personalities took on the media, that's when they - we - started our long fall.
Going back to the cook analogy, if people don't like our shit, they might go to a different restaurant, or simply cook up the ingredients themselves.
There will always be a need for cooks, as there would always be a need for content creators.
Stupid shit you do, like if the food or the news is late. Or if it's not cooked up to perfection, as ordered, or if it gives poisoning or indigestion, will affect the one thing that is the life or death for restaurants and newspapers - reputation.
Like in Dragonball. Every time you use Dragonballs, a small crack appears inside. One day, the seven Dragonballs will hatch seven dragons whom Goku has to fight. Spoiler alert!
And as we have our heads in the clouds, people fill in the vacuum with something else. Better? Worse? Who cares? It's something else. Something OTHER.
People can only eat the same shit for a limited number of time. After a while, they'll swing to something else.
That's why Madonna re-invented herself many times over the years. Why the late Michael Jackson came up with different dance moves for each album. Why the most successful artists throw variation into their theme. I mean, the Coen Brothers would always have a character who is the Unstoppable Evil in their movies, but it's never the same story. Guy Ritchie does great caper movies, but it's never the same movie.
Point is, the content may stay the same, but the forms must change.
One-trick ponies end up in Vegas. And not at Caesar's Palace. Maybe at a sad, small hotel-casino, where some B-grade star died, hoping, praying for budget travellers with a penchant for the old. And even those guys - the proprietors - would change every so often.
In Thailand, the girls would stay at any establishment for as long as they feel they are in contribution to the thing. As soon as they think they have become boring, they most probably will move on.
There is a place for consistency, and for loyalty. Always, always a place. In a world which will not stop spinning until a few million years more at least, a constant is just as priceless as a chameleon.
Omnia mutantor, nihil inherit. Everything changes, nothing is truly lost.
Look at these frailties, ye mighty, and be humbled. The geeks shall inherit the earth.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Bakat...Bakat...
MC: Memperkenalkan! Kumpulan Penulis Alamorphosis De Gil!
MC: Di depan sekali - Orang Utan! Dan dibelakangnya, ada tiga orang lagi...
MC: Dan...memperkenalkan...penulis yang tidak perlu diperkenalkan lagi! Bakat Penulisan Ranjang - Amir Hafizi!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAHHHHH!
Awek Lucah Lincah: Aku baling bra aku niiiii!
Mak Nyah: Merembes air mak!
Aku: Akulah Raja di Bawah Kelangkang.
MC: Di depan sekali - Orang Utan! Dan dibelakangnya, ada tiga orang lagi...
MC: Dan...memperkenalkan...penulis yang tidak perlu diperkenalkan lagi! Bakat Penulisan Ranjang - Amir Hafizi!
Crowd: YEAAAAAAHHHHH!
Awek Lucah Lincah: Aku baling bra aku niiiii!
Mak Nyah: Merembes air mak!
Aku: Akulah Raja di Bawah Kelangkang.
Catch-Up 22
I will be spending the whole day today, catching up on my writing. I have loads to do, and my appointments just cancelled.
So none of you bother me today, okay? I'm going to go into the Speed Force...after this short nap.
So none of you bother me today, okay? I'm going to go into the Speed Force...after this short nap.
Tales from the Drunk Side: Routes
Someone was talking about lineage just now, and something just pissed me off.
Si Tanggang. You know that story? In Indonesia, they call him Malim Kundang. A son left his mother in search of riches and managed to marry a princess. Upon going back to his village, his mother went to greet him with his favourite food.
And yet, he was so ashamed of his mother and the 'barbaric dish' that he cast her off and denied that he was her son. That she was a mad woman.
The mother cursed him and his whole ship, along with the princess, turned to stone. Tanggang either turned to stone of became a crow, forever to call out "Mak! Mak!" to beg forgiveness from his mother.
Some people claim a man-shaped stone in Indonesia is Malim Kundang, while people in Kuantan has some queer-looking rocks in Bukit Charas whom they believe to be Si Tangang.
What I hated was the fact that compilers and historians sanitised Si Tanggang's tale.
In the original, Tanggang's favourite food was 'siamang panggang' - barbecued monkey. In later texts, including a movie starring Neng Yatimah (I think), he was written as having liked 'pisang salai' - smoked bananas.
Fuck that, man.
It takes an especially gritty, tough people to capture monkeys and eat them. Any pussy-whipped metrosexual can scarf down smoked bananas. Only barbarians and pirates can eat monkeys.
Malays used to be pagans. We ate monkeys. And we should be proud that we fucking ate monkeys. We didn't fuck monkeys, I hope. But we ate them.
That's so fucking cool.
What is this sanitised pablum bullshit?
My own ancestors were royal pirates and holy men who walked the earth like Kwai Chang Caine. Cantonese and Kelantanese landowners. Cattle-herders. And later, teachers.
When I first came to KL, most Malays I meet were fucking apologists. For what? We were not African slaveowners. We were Malay slaveowners. Our slavery was with our own race. The whole JWW Birch thing in Perak (again!) was because of, amongst other things, slavery.
And even white Americans - a lot of them came to America long after slavery was abolished. Some, after World War 2.
And we're not fucking white!
Malays are a shade of brown.
We need not apologise for the NEP. First of all, what the fuck is the NEP? The only thing I got from the NEP were two free bags of manure.
Sure, I got into a full-residential school(cause I ranked top 400 in the cunt-ry for UPSR). Ooh. Big fucking deal. I had to watch my ass for five years. I'd trade my glorious SPM results - 8 aggregates, foo! - for normal teenage memories at a normal school.
UM? Hell, man. I spent five years eating roti canai, maggi goreng and the only pussy available were Malay pussy. I would have loved to trade all that with experience at overseas universities where you can fuck redheads, man. Or Thais.
And PTPTN? Hell, you know the kind of fucked up trouble I got into. I won't be like stupid MARA loan-defaulters. I'll pay, and never run away. But it's all fucked up. And that PTPTN is available for everyone. NOT NEP.
I don't believe anyone should apologise for being anything. Malay, gay, lesbian, lactose-intolerant, hardworking or even intelligent.
Except Jonas Brothers', Harry Potter and Twilight fans. Yeah, that, you HAVE to apologise. Profusely.
The Jonas Brothers can't help being Jonas Brothers, but you have a choice in that fucked up shit. I JUDGE THEE!
If the Jonas Brothers come here, I'd feed them barbecued monkey and see if they like it or refuse local hospitality.
Anyway, I do not apologise for shit I didn't do. And if I'm too smart, too talented, too fast for you, then fuck off and die.
The only person to ever intimidate me completely was myself. I reserve and observe respect for some people, especially those who demonstrate skills I currently do not have.
Now that I am beyond being insecure, I don't get insecure people. People who compare and compete with everything. EVERYTHING!
Look, the worst thing you can do for yourself is to believe in your own hype. You get complacent. You don't grow. You stagnate, and you die a monkey. Barbecued. Smoked.
I mean, check this out. Things NOT in my resume: I wrote two poems in a delirious, flu-induced shit, and Lisa Surihanie and Rahim Razali read them on TV. My name was like, six feet high. Never said this, but it was an honour, sir.
Now, if I believed my own hype, I'd fucking go and be a poet. I could fuck more girls, but my books would never sell. I have written no books - just A book, singular, so far - but if I was a poet, I'd have published books. Books and books and books. Books of crap.
I'm no fucking poet. My parents didn't raise any poets. Cheese-eating surrender monkeys.
Poetry, in some cases, is cheating. Free verse my ass.
I've written and am writing what, seven? 10 movies? I wrote in every medium made available to me.
Big screen, small screen, LCD screen, CRT shit, whatever the fuck.
If I believed I was fucking fantastic enough, and could never get any better, I'd fucking kill myself tomorrow.
Cause the old media, that's what's killed them. What's killing them. Complacency. Believing their own hype. New media was heading that way.
"Oooh, I'm a blogger, nyeee!"
"I got 8,000 hits a day, nyeee!" - trivia: whenever I reach 8,000 hits a day, I delete my blog.
Media is the gateway where information passes. It is not the source. We are cooks, chefs. We are not cows. We did not make the beef, we handle the meat and turn it into meatloaf.
For every person who thinks blogs are fucking cool, there would be 10 who think it's shitty and inconsequential. Trivial and fake.
If you can handle that, you'll be fine. If you can't, well, my name is Inigo Montoya, prepare to die!
Humility need not be demonstrated with bowed heads. You can have humility in your work. Not in your demeanour.
And don't worry about God.
God is fair. He giveth and He taketh away. Awayeth.
I mean, I may be the most good-looking person ever. EVAR! Especially with this new haircut. But I don't think I'll ever be rich enough to buy The Binjai apartments. Or a Lamborghini. I don't think I even want to. What the fuck for, man? Malaysian roads have speedbumps. After a week, that Lambo will have fucking potholes INSIDE the car.
Fuck it! Fuck the beat! I go a capella!
Fuck a clock, fuck a dock fuck everybody! Fuck all a-you doubt me!
I am a descendant of monkey-eating pirate-barbarians, and I say it proudly.
Here, tell these people something they don't know about me.
Si Tanggang. You know that story? In Indonesia, they call him Malim Kundang. A son left his mother in search of riches and managed to marry a princess. Upon going back to his village, his mother went to greet him with his favourite food.
And yet, he was so ashamed of his mother and the 'barbaric dish' that he cast her off and denied that he was her son. That she was a mad woman.
The mother cursed him and his whole ship, along with the princess, turned to stone. Tanggang either turned to stone of became a crow, forever to call out "Mak! Mak!" to beg forgiveness from his mother.
Some people claim a man-shaped stone in Indonesia is Malim Kundang, while people in Kuantan has some queer-looking rocks in Bukit Charas whom they believe to be Si Tangang.
What I hated was the fact that compilers and historians sanitised Si Tanggang's tale.
In the original, Tanggang's favourite food was 'siamang panggang' - barbecued monkey. In later texts, including a movie starring Neng Yatimah (I think), he was written as having liked 'pisang salai' - smoked bananas.
Fuck that, man.
It takes an especially gritty, tough people to capture monkeys and eat them. Any pussy-whipped metrosexual can scarf down smoked bananas. Only barbarians and pirates can eat monkeys.
Malays used to be pagans. We ate monkeys. And we should be proud that we fucking ate monkeys. We didn't fuck monkeys, I hope. But we ate them.
That's so fucking cool.
What is this sanitised pablum bullshit?
My own ancestors were royal pirates and holy men who walked the earth like Kwai Chang Caine. Cantonese and Kelantanese landowners. Cattle-herders. And later, teachers.
When I first came to KL, most Malays I meet were fucking apologists. For what? We were not African slaveowners. We were Malay slaveowners. Our slavery was with our own race. The whole JWW Birch thing in Perak (again!) was because of, amongst other things, slavery.
And even white Americans - a lot of them came to America long after slavery was abolished. Some, after World War 2.
And we're not fucking white!
Malays are a shade of brown.
We need not apologise for the NEP. First of all, what the fuck is the NEP? The only thing I got from the NEP were two free bags of manure.
Sure, I got into a full-residential school(cause I ranked top 400 in the cunt-ry for UPSR). Ooh. Big fucking deal. I had to watch my ass for five years. I'd trade my glorious SPM results - 8 aggregates, foo! - for normal teenage memories at a normal school.
UM? Hell, man. I spent five years eating roti canai, maggi goreng and the only pussy available were Malay pussy. I would have loved to trade all that with experience at overseas universities where you can fuck redheads, man. Or Thais.
And PTPTN? Hell, you know the kind of fucked up trouble I got into. I won't be like stupid MARA loan-defaulters. I'll pay, and never run away. But it's all fucked up. And that PTPTN is available for everyone. NOT NEP.
I don't believe anyone should apologise for being anything. Malay, gay, lesbian, lactose-intolerant, hardworking or even intelligent.
Except Jonas Brothers', Harry Potter and Twilight fans. Yeah, that, you HAVE to apologise. Profusely.
The Jonas Brothers can't help being Jonas Brothers, but you have a choice in that fucked up shit. I JUDGE THEE!
If the Jonas Brothers come here, I'd feed them barbecued monkey and see if they like it or refuse local hospitality.
Anyway, I do not apologise for shit I didn't do. And if I'm too smart, too talented, too fast for you, then fuck off and die.
The only person to ever intimidate me completely was myself. I reserve and observe respect for some people, especially those who demonstrate skills I currently do not have.
Now that I am beyond being insecure, I don't get insecure people. People who compare and compete with everything. EVERYTHING!
Look, the worst thing you can do for yourself is to believe in your own hype. You get complacent. You don't grow. You stagnate, and you die a monkey. Barbecued. Smoked.
I mean, check this out. Things NOT in my resume: I wrote two poems in a delirious, flu-induced shit, and Lisa Surihanie and Rahim Razali read them on TV. My name was like, six feet high. Never said this, but it was an honour, sir.
Now, if I believed my own hype, I'd fucking go and be a poet. I could fuck more girls, but my books would never sell. I have written no books - just A book, singular, so far - but if I was a poet, I'd have published books. Books and books and books. Books of crap.
I'm no fucking poet. My parents didn't raise any poets. Cheese-eating surrender monkeys.
Poetry, in some cases, is cheating. Free verse my ass.
I've written and am writing what, seven? 10 movies? I wrote in every medium made available to me.
Big screen, small screen, LCD screen, CRT shit, whatever the fuck.
If I believed I was fucking fantastic enough, and could never get any better, I'd fucking kill myself tomorrow.
Cause the old media, that's what's killed them. What's killing them. Complacency. Believing their own hype. New media was heading that way.
"Oooh, I'm a blogger, nyeee!"
"I got 8,000 hits a day, nyeee!" - trivia: whenever I reach 8,000 hits a day, I delete my blog.
Media is the gateway where information passes. It is not the source. We are cooks, chefs. We are not cows. We did not make the beef, we handle the meat and turn it into meatloaf.
For every person who thinks blogs are fucking cool, there would be 10 who think it's shitty and inconsequential. Trivial and fake.
If you can handle that, you'll be fine. If you can't, well, my name is Inigo Montoya, prepare to die!
Humility need not be demonstrated with bowed heads. You can have humility in your work. Not in your demeanour.
And don't worry about God.
God is fair. He giveth and He taketh away. Awayeth.
I mean, I may be the most good-looking person ever. EVAR! Especially with this new haircut. But I don't think I'll ever be rich enough to buy The Binjai apartments. Or a Lamborghini. I don't think I even want to. What the fuck for, man? Malaysian roads have speedbumps. After a week, that Lambo will have fucking potholes INSIDE the car.
Fuck it! Fuck the beat! I go a capella!
Fuck a clock, fuck a dock fuck everybody! Fuck all a-you doubt me!
I am a descendant of monkey-eating pirate-barbarians, and I say it proudly.
Here, tell these people something they don't know about me.
Friday, July 17, 2009
National Pornographic Sexual: The Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud
Early on in life, I had decided that one thing women will have over men is their sex. As in cowgirl, or reverse-cowgirl positions.
I mean, it would be very easy for women to get an advantage by offering or suggesting sex. Especially with a libido as huge as mine.
Therefore, for the past few years, I have decided to train, in the crevices, nooks and crannys of Thailand. I decided to train, with the Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud.
CUE THEME SONG
Tet tet teeee tet! Tet tet tet tee tet tet tet tet teeeee - doong-doong!
I climbed a mountain in Phuket. There are no mountains in Phuket, as they cancelled Thaksin's Hooter's restaurant. But there was one when I was there.
I climbed, for three days and three nights, neither eating, sleeping, drinking, nor masturbating.
I reached the top a haggard man.
The Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud consists of hundreds of prostitu-nuns in neon-lit cloisters with poles in them.
But all their doors were closed, when I reached there, especially that big gold door with red trimmings.
Exhausted from my journey, I sank to my knees and waited.
I had lost track of time when a Whore-Priestess of Shabda-Oud came into view. She was followed by four other whore-priestesses, and they made a Power Rangers pose before the one in red spoke.
Red: You came here?
Me: I...climbed the...mountain because I...heard that...your order is...up here. I wish...to train with...you.
Red: Hiiiii-yah! Your clever disguise will not fool us, William Shatner!
Me: Wait, wait my...speech might seem...similar to William...Shatner but that's just...because I am...breathless from my...climb. For three...days I...had nothing to...drink or eat or...masturbate to. I...am tired.
And with that, I passed out.
When I came to, Red was there, in front of me.
Red: My apologies for mistaking you for William Shatner, Mr Walken.
Me: What? But -
Red: Save it, Mr Walken. Or should I call you Christopher? You need to rest. You have indeed shown your resilience by nor masturbating for three whole days. In a week, we shall begin our training.
And thus, as she said, my training began in a week.
MONTAGE!
Red: These pole dancers will make eyes at you and ask for 'lady drinks' which is nothing but watered-down Coke in shot glasses but costs just the same as a regular drink. You must resist the temptation to buy them any drinks.
Me: Oh...Oh...man, that's gotta hurt! Okay, I'll buy her one.
Red: Didn't you hear what I said?
Me: But she just did a 900 degrees turn on the pole and landed on her vagina, on the hardwood floor.
Red: You have much to learn, young Walken.
TIME!
Black: Women use subterfuge and subtle machinations. They hate each other, and are only loyal to themselves. You must remain sitting in the lotus position as these women give you a lap dance. You must not fuck them.
TIME!
Yellow: You will masturbate as these women lick you and dance for you. You must not come.
Me: That's easy enough.
TIME!
Yellow: Oh, my Lord! You have lasted for over three hours. The Farce is strong with this one.
TIME!
Green: Erogenous zones. Everyone has them, and yet it is different for everyone. We shall find yours, and focus on that. In time, you will be able to move your zones to anywhere on your body.
TIME!
Pink: It is just not the physical bit, but the mental aspect as well. Most of sex happens in the mind. You must train your mind to become more powerful than your base instincts. Learn to control everything.
Me: How?
Pink: Know, realise that sex is only worth RM50.
Me: And in some p-laces, RM6!
Pink: And so, is it worth taking anyone to an expensive restaurant or buying them stuff?
Me: No!
Pink: Therefore, sex is worthless. Some prostitutes-in-denial will try to convince you otherwise, but you know the deal. You know the score.
TIME!
White: Nothing is static. Everything is evolving. Everything is falling apart. His name...was Richard -
Me: You're just reading Fight Club.
White: Shut up! Everything is maya - a falsehood. Nothing exists. Everything is a joke. Even that hot woman over there. You must not deny your lust, but accept its existence. Do not fight it. Only when you are self-aware will your ego and your lust be fully under check.
TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Red: You have been with us for five years now, Young Walken. There is nothing left for us to teach you. Only one thing remains.
Me: Pray tell, Mistress Alpha Female.
Red: Young Walken! Prepare to fight!
Me: Fight what?
Red: Here! The 18 Shabda-Oud Jailbait Formation! 18 virgins under 18 years old will try to make you succumb to their temptations!
Me: Ooooh...yeah...
18 girls under 18 tried everything in their power to get me to jail.
But I got back safe and sound, didn't I? Why? Because five years earlier, I took three days to climb that mountain (even though there was a cable car going up) because I had planted explosives inside the mountain.
I reach for my detonator, depressed the switch, and...
Me: So long, suckers! Literally!
And I jumped as the explosion threw me all the way down to a bar stool in Phuket's Bangla Road.
And so I remain the last student of the ancient secrets of the Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud.
Until their Bangkok charter sent sex-assassins to kill me. But I shall always remember the training by Mistress Alpha Female.
Red: Remember, given a long enough timeline, everyone's survival drops to zero.
I mean, it would be very easy for women to get an advantage by offering or suggesting sex. Especially with a libido as huge as mine.
Therefore, for the past few years, I have decided to train, in the crevices, nooks and crannys of Thailand. I decided to train, with the Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud.
CUE THEME SONG
Tet tet teeee tet! Tet tet tet tee tet tet tet tet teeeee - doong-doong!
I climbed a mountain in Phuket. There are no mountains in Phuket, as they cancelled Thaksin's Hooter's restaurant. But there was one when I was there.
I climbed, for three days and three nights, neither eating, sleeping, drinking, nor masturbating.
I reached the top a haggard man.
The Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud consists of hundreds of prostitu-nuns in neon-lit cloisters with poles in them.
But all their doors were closed, when I reached there, especially that big gold door with red trimmings.
Exhausted from my journey, I sank to my knees and waited.
I had lost track of time when a Whore-Priestess of Shabda-Oud came into view. She was followed by four other whore-priestesses, and they made a Power Rangers pose before the one in red spoke.
Red: You came here?
Me: I...climbed the...mountain because I...heard that...your order is...up here. I wish...to train with...you.
Red: Hiiiii-yah! Your clever disguise will not fool us, William Shatner!
Me: Wait, wait my...speech might seem...similar to William...Shatner but that's just...because I am...breathless from my...climb. For three...days I...had nothing to...drink or eat or...masturbate to. I...am tired.
And with that, I passed out.
When I came to, Red was there, in front of me.
Red: My apologies for mistaking you for William Shatner, Mr Walken.
Me: What? But -
Red: Save it, Mr Walken. Or should I call you Christopher? You need to rest. You have indeed shown your resilience by nor masturbating for three whole days. In a week, we shall begin our training.
And thus, as she said, my training began in a week.
MONTAGE!
Red: These pole dancers will make eyes at you and ask for 'lady drinks' which is nothing but watered-down Coke in shot glasses but costs just the same as a regular drink. You must resist the temptation to buy them any drinks.
Me: Oh...Oh...man, that's gotta hurt! Okay, I'll buy her one.
Red: Didn't you hear what I said?
Me: But she just did a 900 degrees turn on the pole and landed on her vagina, on the hardwood floor.
Red: You have much to learn, young Walken.
TIME!
Black: Women use subterfuge and subtle machinations. They hate each other, and are only loyal to themselves. You must remain sitting in the lotus position as these women give you a lap dance. You must not fuck them.
TIME!
Yellow: You will masturbate as these women lick you and dance for you. You must not come.
Me: That's easy enough.
TIME!
Yellow: Oh, my Lord! You have lasted for over three hours. The Farce is strong with this one.
TIME!
Green: Erogenous zones. Everyone has them, and yet it is different for everyone. We shall find yours, and focus on that. In time, you will be able to move your zones to anywhere on your body.
TIME!
Pink: It is just not the physical bit, but the mental aspect as well. Most of sex happens in the mind. You must train your mind to become more powerful than your base instincts. Learn to control everything.
Me: How?
Pink: Know, realise that sex is only worth RM50.
Me: And in some p-laces, RM6!
Pink: And so, is it worth taking anyone to an expensive restaurant or buying them stuff?
Me: No!
Pink: Therefore, sex is worthless. Some prostitutes-in-denial will try to convince you otherwise, but you know the deal. You know the score.
TIME!
White: Nothing is static. Everything is evolving. Everything is falling apart. His name...was Richard -
Me: You're just reading Fight Club.
White: Shut up! Everything is maya - a falsehood. Nothing exists. Everything is a joke. Even that hot woman over there. You must not deny your lust, but accept its existence. Do not fight it. Only when you are self-aware will your ego and your lust be fully under check.
TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Red: You have been with us for five years now, Young Walken. There is nothing left for us to teach you. Only one thing remains.
Me: Pray tell, Mistress Alpha Female.
Red: Young Walken! Prepare to fight!
Me: Fight what?
Red: Here! The 18 Shabda-Oud Jailbait Formation! 18 virgins under 18 years old will try to make you succumb to their temptations!
Me: Ooooh...yeah...
18 girls under 18 tried everything in their power to get me to jail.
But I got back safe and sound, didn't I? Why? Because five years earlier, I took three days to climb that mountain (even though there was a cable car going up) because I had planted explosives inside the mountain.
I reach for my detonator, depressed the switch, and...
Me: So long, suckers! Literally!
And I jumped as the explosion threw me all the way down to a bar stool in Phuket's Bangla Road.
And so I remain the last student of the ancient secrets of the Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud.
Until their Bangkok charter sent sex-assassins to kill me. But I shall always remember the training by Mistress Alpha Female.
Red: Remember, given a long enough timeline, everyone's survival drops to zero.
Tales from the Drunk Side: Casino Royale with Cheese
It wasn't until 2am when the cards started talking to me.
7 of Diamonds: We all have a function. We represent something.
Me: What the fuck is this, man?
Chongker: Enough?
Me: No, wait. Let me get this.
7 of Diamonds: See if you know...or rather, remember.
Me: Let's see now. I read about you...in a children's activity book, written in the 70s, therefore, I can't determine the veracity of its information.
Ace of Spades: Or the persistence of memory.
Three of Hearts: Bada bing!
Me: I trust my memory. Let's see...the suit of Diamonds represent the wealthy. The King is a depiction of Julius Caesar. Can't give a fuck who the Queen and Jack represents.
Me: Hearts was formerly the chalice. A communion cup. Representing religion. Your King is Charlamagne, one of the most successful Christian kings ever. Ditto on Queen and Jack.
Me: Spades came from the Spanish word 'Espada', meaning either 'soldier' or 'sword'. The symbol is representative of the sword, connected to the military.
Me: Clubs are, well, cudgels carried by the people. And as such, the suit of Clubs represent the people. Your King is Alexander, Queen is Elizabeth and Jack is Lancelot of the Lake.
Jack of Clubs: We are important people!
Ace of Spades: And important symbolism!
Me: No. There have been themes of four before. Earth, Air, Water, Fire. Coin, Song, Knife and Stick - particularly reflecting your own four suits. Claw and Name, Blood and Feather. And tri-symbols - bell, book, candle. Griffins with head of an eagle, body of a lion and tail of...a donkey? Face of a woman, body of a lion, wings of an eagle - sphinx?. Variations, but one and the same.
Queen of Hearts: And what of you, Old One? Prince of Darkness, Devourer of Worlds?
Me: My card...is the Wheel of Fortune. Rota Fortuna, of the Major Arcana.
Jack of Spades: The fuck you got that?
Me: The paginarum fulvarum - the yellow pages.
Four of Clubs: Pig Latin! Pig Latin!
Me: O, ye of little faith. I don't need to be told that I am right. I KNOW I am right.
Chongker: Banker delcare 20.
Me: 21!
Oh well. It might have been.
7 of Diamonds: We all have a function. We represent something.
Me: What the fuck is this, man?
Chongker: Enough?
Me: No, wait. Let me get this.
7 of Diamonds: See if you know...or rather, remember.
Me: Let's see now. I read about you...in a children's activity book, written in the 70s, therefore, I can't determine the veracity of its information.
Ace of Spades: Or the persistence of memory.
Three of Hearts: Bada bing!
Me: I trust my memory. Let's see...the suit of Diamonds represent the wealthy. The King is a depiction of Julius Caesar. Can't give a fuck who the Queen and Jack represents.
Me: Hearts was formerly the chalice. A communion cup. Representing religion. Your King is Charlamagne, one of the most successful Christian kings ever. Ditto on Queen and Jack.
Me: Spades came from the Spanish word 'Espada', meaning either 'soldier' or 'sword'. The symbol is representative of the sword, connected to the military.
Me: Clubs are, well, cudgels carried by the people. And as such, the suit of Clubs represent the people. Your King is Alexander, Queen is Elizabeth and Jack is Lancelot of the Lake.
Jack of Clubs: We are important people!
Ace of Spades: And important symbolism!
Me: No. There have been themes of four before. Earth, Air, Water, Fire. Coin, Song, Knife and Stick - particularly reflecting your own four suits. Claw and Name, Blood and Feather. And tri-symbols - bell, book, candle. Griffins with head of an eagle, body of a lion and tail of...a donkey? Face of a woman, body of a lion, wings of an eagle - sphinx?. Variations, but one and the same.
Queen of Hearts: And what of you, Old One? Prince of Darkness, Devourer of Worlds?
Me: My card...is the Wheel of Fortune. Rota Fortuna, of the Major Arcana.
Jack of Spades: The fuck you got that?
Me: The paginarum fulvarum - the yellow pages.
Four of Clubs: Pig Latin! Pig Latin!
Me: O, ye of little faith. I don't need to be told that I am right. I KNOW I am right.
Chongker: Banker delcare 20.
Me: 21!
Oh well. It might have been.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tales from the Drunk Side: Destruction
Some people asked me about my political stand.
Well, YOU. ASKED. FOR. IT.
Tet tet tet tet tereeeeee...!
I live in a democratic society, more or less. And while I am particularly intrigued by the Socialist utopia of Star Trek, I believe I am an anarchist sympathiser.
In the Holy Text V for Vendetta by Alan Moore, it was stated that:
"...anarchy does not mean without order. Without order there is simply chaos. Anarchy simply means without leaders."
A vision of ordnung, voluntary order. Which perhaps might only rise after a period of verwirrung.
A cycle of destruction depicted in many civilisations, traditions and religions. For example the 'kaliyuga', the Mayan thing, as well as clues set in nature. The human body renews itself after every seven years. We only die because the human body - our human body - loses its regenerative properties after a while.
Wear and tear. Even though it is possible for any human to live up to 190 years with our current biological configuration. Add some cockroach DNA and we might even be able to travel to distant stars and actually survive cosmic radiation.
If asked what character in the Sandman comics I most identify with, I could say that all of them. I walk the path of Destiny, am obsessed with Death, fancy myself a Dreamer, fights Desire all the time, and sometimes live in the bottomless pits of Despair. My writing can go into the realm of Delirium. Where I stay most nights these days.
However, honestly, I believe that I am Destruction. Without the red hair, of course.
Emm...never you mind.
Anyway, anarchy.
True anarchy does not mean wearing a t-shirt with a big red A in a big red circle on it. That's fake anaychy. That's 'Anarchy in the UK'. That's anarchy by spraying paint on the fucking walls.
That's pussy-footing. Form. Not content. A placebo for real anarchy.
In a true anarchy, there will be no well-defined structures. Maybe no structures at all. Because all structures are unstable.
In Chuck Palahniuk's novel Fight Club, an anarchic society is depicted as people wearing leather clothes that will last them a lifetime as they hunt for bison on the decaying remnants of an abandoned super-highway. Or something like that.
A destruction of modern civilisation for a more hollistic approach to living.
Ironic, since I was configured to live in a modern age.
Right now, I am itching for someone - anyone - to push that big red button. I am waiting for the bomb to drop. Kill all the humans. We have all turned into metrosexuals, PIS people, Jonas Brothers' fans, Twilight droolers and control freaks. Evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.
Well, YOU. ASKED. FOR. IT.
Tet tet tet tet tereeeeee...!
I live in a democratic society, more or less. And while I am particularly intrigued by the Socialist utopia of Star Trek, I believe I am an anarchist sympathiser.
In the Holy Text V for Vendetta by Alan Moore, it was stated that:
"...anarchy does not mean without order. Without order there is simply chaos. Anarchy simply means without leaders."
A vision of ordnung, voluntary order. Which perhaps might only rise after a period of verwirrung.
A cycle of destruction depicted in many civilisations, traditions and religions. For example the 'kaliyuga', the Mayan thing, as well as clues set in nature. The human body renews itself after every seven years. We only die because the human body - our human body - loses its regenerative properties after a while.
Wear and tear. Even though it is possible for any human to live up to 190 years with our current biological configuration. Add some cockroach DNA and we might even be able to travel to distant stars and actually survive cosmic radiation.
If asked what character in the Sandman comics I most identify with, I could say that all of them. I walk the path of Destiny, am obsessed with Death, fancy myself a Dreamer, fights Desire all the time, and sometimes live in the bottomless pits of Despair. My writing can go into the realm of Delirium. Where I stay most nights these days.
However, honestly, I believe that I am Destruction. Without the red hair, of course.
Emm...never you mind.
Anyway, anarchy.
True anarchy does not mean wearing a t-shirt with a big red A in a big red circle on it. That's fake anaychy. That's 'Anarchy in the UK'. That's anarchy by spraying paint on the fucking walls.
That's pussy-footing. Form. Not content. A placebo for real anarchy.
In a true anarchy, there will be no well-defined structures. Maybe no structures at all. Because all structures are unstable.
In Chuck Palahniuk's novel Fight Club, an anarchic society is depicted as people wearing leather clothes that will last them a lifetime as they hunt for bison on the decaying remnants of an abandoned super-highway. Or something like that.
A destruction of modern civilisation for a more hollistic approach to living.
Ironic, since I was configured to live in a modern age.
Right now, I am itching for someone - anyone - to push that big red button. I am waiting for the bomb to drop. Kill all the humans. We have all turned into metrosexuals, PIS people, Jonas Brothers' fans, Twilight droolers and control freaks. Evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.
KL Mencarut
Aku bukannya di atas kertas...
Aku bukannya melancap
Sambil menengok filem kartun lucah
Dan gambar perempuan tetek terdedah
Biji kelentit mu nampak sugul
Seperti menanti hajat tidak terkabul
Dalam burit pasti ada jawabnyaaaaa...
Sekuntum mawar merah...
Sebuaaaaahhhh pussy
Dari gadis pelacuran
Di bulan Febuari
Pabila konek bersegi
Dan kekerasan
Dibelai jari-jari
Pantat makkau aku nak minum lah!
Aku bukannya melancap
Sambil menengok filem kartun lucah
Dan gambar perempuan tetek terdedah
Biji kelentit mu nampak sugul
Seperti menanti hajat tidak terkabul
Dalam burit pasti ada jawabnyaaaaa...
Sekuntum mawar merah...
Sebuaaaaahhhh pussy
Dari gadis pelacuran
Di bulan Febuari
Pabila konek bersegi
Dan kekerasan
Dibelai jari-jari
Pantat makkau aku nak minum lah!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Panjang Juburnya
Aku duk cakap dengan bos lama aku. Tok Guru aku.
Zainal Alam Kadir.
Kitorang start nyanyi lagu member Kitorang.
Panjang juburnya, panjang juburnya,
Panjang juburnya setahun laagi...
And thennnn...?
Repeat until you die.
Zainal Alam Kadir.
Kitorang start nyanyi lagu member Kitorang.
Panjang juburnya, panjang juburnya,
Panjang juburnya setahun laagi...
And thennnn...?
Repeat until you die.
Gambar Tanpa Penjelasan, Lirik Tidak Keruan
Put your legs on my shoulder
Hold me in your cunt, baby
Squeeze me oh so tight
Show me that you love me too
Put your ass next to mine, dear
Won't you fuck me once, baby
Just a fuck goodnight, may be
You and I will fuck like rabbits
People say that fuckin's a game
A game you just can't win
If there's a way
I'll find it someday
And then this fool with rush in
Put your legs on my shoulder
Whisper in my anus, baby
Words I want to hear
Lick me, lick me on my balls
Put your legs on my shoulder
Whisper in my rectum, baby
Words I want to hear, baby
Put your legs on my shoulder
Almanak Masakan Bumi dan Langit: Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing
Nasi goreng paling hebat dalam dunia kepahlawanan adalah Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing.
Aku tak suka makan kambing. Hampir sama benci aku pada daging kambing dengan daging babi. Baunya memang tak menyelerakan langsung. Hamis semacam je.
Pertama kali aku makan Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing di Kelab Tekan Kebangsaan pada tahun 2003.
Secara serta-merta, aku menjadi Syaitan. Azazel. George Washington. Baphomet.
Aku: Bertukar! Putaran cahayaaaa! Putaran cahayaaaaa!
Caption: George Washington menggilai Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing sampai dia pun bertukar menjadi Baphomet pada tahun 1492.
Kehebatan Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing terletak pada rahsia penyediaan bahan-bahan, termasuk daging kambing yang dimasak dua kali.
Sama macam teknik memasak daging babi dua kali untuk menghilangkan baunya, teknik sama digunakan ke atas daging kambing.
Kari kambing juga dibiarkan semalaman supaya daging itu menyerap semua rempah-ratus yang ada.
Nasi yang digunakan pula, harus nasi sejuk! Kerana nasi yang panas dan masih basah akan menjadikan hidangan ini lembik dan tidak sekata resapan kari kambing dan bumbu penyedapnya.
Sesuai dimakan ketika mendaki gunung, kerana pertukaran menjadi makhluk separa kambing sebagai reaksi, akan menyebabkan si pemakan boleh mendapat kebolehan kambing gunung.
Malangnya, Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing hampir pupus, dan hanya akan muncul kembali selepas pemilik resepinya membuka kedai makanan baru di Bangsar.
Aku tak sabar ingin bertukar menjadi Baphomet, kerana menjadi Setan Kuning tidak cukup untuk mengkesimakan audiens antarabangsa.
Aku tak suka makan kambing. Hampir sama benci aku pada daging kambing dengan daging babi. Baunya memang tak menyelerakan langsung. Hamis semacam je.
Pertama kali aku makan Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing di Kelab Tekan Kebangsaan pada tahun 2003.
Secara serta-merta, aku menjadi Syaitan. Azazel. George Washington. Baphomet.
Aku: Bertukar! Putaran cahayaaaa! Putaran cahayaaaaa!
Caption: George Washington menggilai Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing sampai dia pun bertukar menjadi Baphomet pada tahun 1492.
Kehebatan Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing terletak pada rahsia penyediaan bahan-bahan, termasuk daging kambing yang dimasak dua kali.
Sama macam teknik memasak daging babi dua kali untuk menghilangkan baunya, teknik sama digunakan ke atas daging kambing.
Kari kambing juga dibiarkan semalaman supaya daging itu menyerap semua rempah-ratus yang ada.
Nasi yang digunakan pula, harus nasi sejuk! Kerana nasi yang panas dan masih basah akan menjadikan hidangan ini lembik dan tidak sekata resapan kari kambing dan bumbu penyedapnya.
Sesuai dimakan ketika mendaki gunung, kerana pertukaran menjadi makhluk separa kambing sebagai reaksi, akan menyebabkan si pemakan boleh mendapat kebolehan kambing gunung.
Malangnya, Nasi Goreng Kari Kambing hampir pupus, dan hanya akan muncul kembali selepas pemilik resepinya membuka kedai makanan baru di Bangsar.
Aku tak sabar ingin bertukar menjadi Baphomet, kerana menjadi Setan Kuning tidak cukup untuk mengkesimakan audiens antarabangsa.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Malam Penuh Estonia, Pagi Tanpa Kopi
Aku bangun dan terus tersekeh kepala perempuan Estonian kat sebelah ni.
Estonian: Opocot mak kau!
Aku: Apa sama benar Bahasa Estonian dengan Bahasa Malaysia ni? Ko ni....tulen ke tiruan?
Estonian: Tulen, bang!
Ah sudah. Terkesima, aku terus pergi berak.
Estonian: Opocot mak kau!
Aku: Apa sama benar Bahasa Estonian dengan Bahasa Malaysia ni? Ko ni....tulen ke tiruan?
Estonian: Tulen, bang!
Ah sudah. Terkesima, aku terus pergi berak.
Tales from the Drunk Side: Suck My Dick?
Apparently, you can end or punctuate any conversation with the question/invitation: Suck my dick?
Example:
Me: Hey, how are you doing there? Suck my dick?
---
Me: Looks like rain...
Bitch: Yep.
Me: Suck my dick?
---
Slut-Ho Whore-Priestess: You just stepped on my foot!
Me: Suck my dick?
And if you're lucky, they really will suck your dick.
Example:
Me: Hey, how are you doing there? Suck my dick?
---
Me: Looks like rain...
Bitch: Yep.
Me: Suck my dick?
---
Slut-Ho Whore-Priestess: You just stepped on my foot!
Me: Suck my dick?
And if you're lucky, they really will suck your dick.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Off for the Night
Turned off my laptop.
Am not doing any more tonight.
I am done!
Hehehehe.
I'll think about it tomorrow, for tomorrow is another day.
Am not doing any more tonight.
I am done!
Hehehehe.
I'll think about it tomorrow, for tomorrow is another day.
KENdiri KENtal - KEN-KEN
Dalam dunia ni, aku sorang aja yang sibuk. Aku sorang aje yang ada keje. Hebat gila siut aku.
Dunia ni dicipta untuk tontonan aku, untuk interaksi dengan aku. Semua orang lain adalah pelakon, dan hanya aku yang betul. Hanya aku yang ikhlas. Walaupun Setan Kuning. Hahahaha.
Bila aku berjalan, dalam dua kilometer kat depan, ada orang bina set. Kat belakang, dua kilometer, ada orang pecat set. Kalau diorang lambat atau ada accident, dia kasi jalan jam.
Aku beraksi untuk tontonan dunia. Akulah Harlequin yang periang. Akulah Pulcinello yang murung. Akulah Mr Punch, yang original, tanpa Judy.
Aku Silvio yang berlagak Al Pacino untuk Tony-tony Soprano dan Tony-Tony Chopper yang sedang duduk di pub sambil bertaruh dengan siapa aku nak toron lepas ni.
Akulah Alfred yang memakai mekap Joker.
Dan aku baru siapkan kerja 'cahaya bulan' aku di Kelab Tekan Kebangsaan. Bak kata pepatah Melayu, "Sambil bekerja, minum air...Genius Juice. Untuk jadi genius."
Kerja aku siap. Tapi esok ada lagi. Bermulanya lembaran baru seperti sudah menyapu taik di jubur dengan kertas tisu, dan mendapatkan helaian yang lagi satu.
Aku rasa seperti penari can-can di Rumah Kitar Angin Merah. Lesu dan palsu. Mekap tebal, dan tak cukur bulu.
Roxxxxxxxxanne!
Dunia ni dicipta untuk tontonan aku, untuk interaksi dengan aku. Semua orang lain adalah pelakon, dan hanya aku yang betul. Hanya aku yang ikhlas. Walaupun Setan Kuning. Hahahaha.
Bila aku berjalan, dalam dua kilometer kat depan, ada orang bina set. Kat belakang, dua kilometer, ada orang pecat set. Kalau diorang lambat atau ada accident, dia kasi jalan jam.
Aku beraksi untuk tontonan dunia. Akulah Harlequin yang periang. Akulah Pulcinello yang murung. Akulah Mr Punch, yang original, tanpa Judy.
Aku Silvio yang berlagak Al Pacino untuk Tony-tony Soprano dan Tony-Tony Chopper yang sedang duduk di pub sambil bertaruh dengan siapa aku nak toron lepas ni.
Akulah Alfred yang memakai mekap Joker.
Dan aku baru siapkan kerja 'cahaya bulan' aku di Kelab Tekan Kebangsaan. Bak kata pepatah Melayu, "Sambil bekerja, minum air...Genius Juice. Untuk jadi genius."
Kerja aku siap. Tapi esok ada lagi. Bermulanya lembaran baru seperti sudah menyapu taik di jubur dengan kertas tisu, dan mendapatkan helaian yang lagi satu.
Aku rasa seperti penari can-can di Rumah Kitar Angin Merah. Lesu dan palsu. Mekap tebal, dan tak cukur bulu.
Roxxxxxxxxanne!
Awesomeness
I am in such awe of myself.
My triceps are very strong. They might seem or even feel a bit flabby, but they can kill a rhino from 200 yards away.
And my pecs are so large, I have a cleavage. Bet I can fill a square neckline.
My triceps are very strong. They might seem or even feel a bit flabby, but they can kill a rhino from 200 yards away.
And my pecs are so large, I have a cleavage. Bet I can fill a square neckline.
Intermission
It's 5.15am, and I am debating whether or not I should go to sleep or continue with some work.
Now THIS feels familiar.
But, I don't want to burn myself out. Patience. Pacing. It is not yet time to go full speed ahead, consequences be damned.
Not yet time to play all the cards. To show hand.
If I don't sleep now, I will be sleeping for 12 hours, tomorrow night. NOT a good thing.
Have a meeting tomorrow at around 5pm. And some proposals to finish all day long. At night, there are two movie scripts awaiting my touch. I can't afford NOT to sleep now.
Now, I feel like Spider Jerusalem, writing for The Hole.
Now THIS feels familiar.
But, I don't want to burn myself out. Patience. Pacing. It is not yet time to go full speed ahead, consequences be damned.
Not yet time to play all the cards. To show hand.
If I don't sleep now, I will be sleeping for 12 hours, tomorrow night. NOT a good thing.
Have a meeting tomorrow at around 5pm. And some proposals to finish all day long. At night, there are two movie scripts awaiting my touch. I can't afford NOT to sleep now.
Now, I feel like Spider Jerusalem, writing for The Hole.
WArtawan HibuRAN TANpa MeKAP - WARAN TANGKAP
Best betul jadi wartawan ni.
Semua perempuan nak isap konek aku.
Aku lalu je, semua dah sedia dengan pisau cukur dan shaving cream.
Perempuan Gedik tapi Lawa: A-BANG! Nak isap konek! Kasilah I cukur telur you yang berbulu tu!
Aku: I bukan orang macam tu!
PGL: Telur you takde bulu? Sedap!
Aku: Bukan telur je. Jubur I pun ada bulu. Macam Cecilia Cheung. I takleh kasi you isap, la. Nanti you suruh I tulis pasal you. I ada integriti, tau.
PGL: Alaaaaaa...
Aku pergi kerja tadi pun, ada orang nak ambik gambar. Aku pun tengah posing, cam biasa, tapi tiba-tiba datang satu orang perempuan, dedah tetek, duduk kat kaki aku la pulak.
Jadi camni posing kitorang, selayak lukisan padu maut Frank Frazetta:
Pak Guard Lembut: Nak ke mana ni bang?
Aku: Aku nak pergi membina negara pakai tangan aku sendiri.
PGL: Alaaa...abang ni! Tunggu la dulu.
Aku: Dan aku akan pakai mahkota kat dahi yang berkerut.
PGL: You seksi la bang.
Amir Hafizi - konek idaman semua, lelaki mahupun wanita.
Semua perempuan nak isap konek aku.
Aku lalu je, semua dah sedia dengan pisau cukur dan shaving cream.
Perempuan Gedik tapi Lawa: A-BANG! Nak isap konek! Kasilah I cukur telur you yang berbulu tu!
Aku: I bukan orang macam tu!
PGL: Telur you takde bulu? Sedap!
Aku: Bukan telur je. Jubur I pun ada bulu. Macam Cecilia Cheung. I takleh kasi you isap, la. Nanti you suruh I tulis pasal you. I ada integriti, tau.
PGL: Alaaaaaa...
Aku pergi kerja tadi pun, ada orang nak ambik gambar. Aku pun tengah posing, cam biasa, tapi tiba-tiba datang satu orang perempuan, dedah tetek, duduk kat kaki aku la pulak.
Jadi camni posing kitorang, selayak lukisan padu maut Frank Frazetta:
Pak Guard Lembut: Nak ke mana ni bang?
Aku: Aku nak pergi membina negara pakai tangan aku sendiri.
PGL: Alaaa...abang ni! Tunggu la dulu.
Aku: Dan aku akan pakai mahkota kat dahi yang berkerut.
PGL: You seksi la bang.
Amir Hafizi - konek idaman semua, lelaki mahupun wanita.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A Solution to Malaysia-Singapore Relations
May I present to you the solution to the problems we have had with our neighbours down south.
This, my fellow countrymen, is Rachel Kum. She is Miss Singapore Universe 2009. And I am Kumming.
Work it, baby, work it!
Booya! The face, and the body that could launch a thousand "SHIIIIIT!"s. The image, beauty-obsessed world is not fair, but how can any of us allow someone as good-looking as that eat shit? I say, give her some water, man. It's a basic human need.
This model recently caused some problems for herself when she posted pictures of her eating a dick-shaped birthday cake on her blog. There are also pictures of her pretending to bite a friend dressed as a giant dick.
She has since taken them down.
A lot of Singaporeans are upset that she would...do such a thing. That cake could ruin her figure.
Well, I have no interest in barging in any of Singapore's issues, but if you guys don't want her, I believe quite a few Malaysians can make some room for Miss Kum. She can have as many dick-shaped cakes as she wants.
Hell, I'll bake her one myself. I can even make a mould.
Man...I wish I was that cake.
Source: www.GutterUncensored.com
Saturday, July 11, 2009
The Nerves of Some People
Was all hubbly bubbly today when, suddenly, the darkness took me.
Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEE!
Think it's adrenaline withdrawal.
I mean, I woke up with a purpose. One interview and a huge meeting later today. Add to that the fact that my Blackberry was disintegrating on me. It kept dialing the number 'Q'. And the character '#'.
This is perhaps due to me fielding calls in the morning, from six different people. In the shower.
Water and electronics apparently don't mix very well.
Add to the whole mess, a VERY eventful week, punctuated by a very empty Saturday night. I finished everything I needed to do and was only 15 minutes late for my meeting.
Which is good cause it gives me time to catch up on some work. Which I'm doing, of course.
It's shifting gears, man. I am pretty shifty, I guess. One minute, I was on top of the world, the next, I am in a bottomless pit of despair.
And I also remember, or perhaps my mind is remembering that, as a journalist, I have always been extremely terrified. Most of the work is done, to deal with that fear. You stand on a precipice, a ledge, a cliff. And if there are no catchers in the rye field, I'd have flung my body and soul to the rocks below.
But there are catchers. I've known them for years. And I trust them. And I need to do my bit as well.
Man, I thought I was over the fear. I guess I never will. It will always be there. Writing for daily publications, some immediately become adrenaline junkies. The best of us either revel in it, or develop a very calm and calculated demeanour. Cool in the sadle. Or start laughing at everything like a maniac.
I'd be lying if I said I was not scared shitless. I mean, I went to the toilet just now, and no shit came out!
There. Shitless!
Oh well.
What can I do?
Come to think of it, I do have some laxatives...and cough syrup.
Nahhh. Night's still early. A wo-man is coming and driving me to a place where they sell pints of the right stuff. When I'm full of the right stuff, I can do shit.
Yay!
Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEE!
Think it's adrenaline withdrawal.
I mean, I woke up with a purpose. One interview and a huge meeting later today. Add to that the fact that my Blackberry was disintegrating on me. It kept dialing the number 'Q'. And the character '#'.
This is perhaps due to me fielding calls in the morning, from six different people. In the shower.
Water and electronics apparently don't mix very well.
Add to the whole mess, a VERY eventful week, punctuated by a very empty Saturday night. I finished everything I needed to do and was only 15 minutes late for my meeting.
Which is good cause it gives me time to catch up on some work. Which I'm doing, of course.
It's shifting gears, man. I am pretty shifty, I guess. One minute, I was on top of the world, the next, I am in a bottomless pit of despair.
And I also remember, or perhaps my mind is remembering that, as a journalist, I have always been extremely terrified. Most of the work is done, to deal with that fear. You stand on a precipice, a ledge, a cliff. And if there are no catchers in the rye field, I'd have flung my body and soul to the rocks below.
But there are catchers. I've known them for years. And I trust them. And I need to do my bit as well.
Man, I thought I was over the fear. I guess I never will. It will always be there. Writing for daily publications, some immediately become adrenaline junkies. The best of us either revel in it, or develop a very calm and calculated demeanour. Cool in the sadle. Or start laughing at everything like a maniac.
I'd be lying if I said I was not scared shitless. I mean, I went to the toilet just now, and no shit came out!
There. Shitless!
Oh well.
What can I do?
Come to think of it, I do have some laxatives...and cough syrup.
Nahhh. Night's still early. A wo-man is coming and driving me to a place where they sell pints of the right stuff. When I'm full of the right stuff, I can do shit.
Yay!
Danny Boyyyy O Danny Boyyyy
It wasn't long before the chemicals kicked in.
What the fuck?
Woke up this morning,
Got myself a gun.
Eh?
Woke up this morning. At 7.45am. To the sound of a speeding truck outside my window.
I looked out my window.
Me: Thanks fer wakin' me up, ya fuckin' arsehole!
Saves me five bucks on buying a fucking alarm clock. Instead, I got a 12-cylinder, couple-a-hundred thousand dollar machine doing that every morning.
I looked at myself. Naked. Alone. Disoriented. Talkin' Irish. In my room which is now clean.
What the fuck happened last night?
Did a Thai hooker break into my house, undress me, cleaned my room and left? A vigilante cleaner-whore? How much did I pay her? And why didn't she wash the dishes?
And why am I talking to myself with an Irish accent? The universe is vast and infinite. With untold tales and unsolved mysteries.
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
I...remember entertaining people last night. There were people sitting in a row, watching life pass idly by.
So, when I see people sitting in a row, watching life pass idly by, I started entertaining them. Send in the clowns, man. It used to be Alam, my mentor and beloved friend, who would do this, using me as a Mr Punch sometimes. Good times, man, Good times.
Of course, the very English Mr Punch originated from Italy. From the commedia d'ell arte. I hope I got the apostrophe right.
Punch was the character Pulcinello or Punchinello.
To make the Mr Punch voice, you would need a 'swatchell' - a thingamajig made from cotton, tin and string. Placed somewhere near the opening of the throat.
At some point, someone infected me with an Irish accent. And as we all know, the name Guiness is pronounced 'Ginis'. Not Gines. Not Guines. Ginis.
1759, it was. When old Darth Guiness started brewing the dark ruby liquid and treated them with fish floats. Floats inside the fishies.
You know Sherry? Prostitutes' and housewives' drink, Sherry. Came from Spain. British privateers (paid pirates) would rob Spanish galleons and steal hundreds of casks with the name 'Jerez' on it. They used to call it 'Jerrys', later bastardised to be Sherry.
In Portugal, it is sometimes called Xerez. They still call it Jerez in Spain.
Talking about Spanish galleons, the Venetian Galleas was an extremely durable ship. But a real sailor would prefer a sloop or maybe the brigantine, for traders. Know what a sloop is?
Never you mind.
Chinese junks had stern rudders.
What am I writing?
I need to shake this Irish accent off, man. And this sudden longing to sail...on a fucking sailboat.
My bonnie lies over the ocean...
My bonnie lies over the sea...
My boner is up and waiting...
I need to go and find some WD-40...
What the fuck?
Woke up this morning,
Got myself a gun.
Eh?
Woke up this morning. At 7.45am. To the sound of a speeding truck outside my window.
I looked out my window.
Me: Thanks fer wakin' me up, ya fuckin' arsehole!
Saves me five bucks on buying a fucking alarm clock. Instead, I got a 12-cylinder, couple-a-hundred thousand dollar machine doing that every morning.
I looked at myself. Naked. Alone. Disoriented. Talkin' Irish. In my room which is now clean.
What the fuck happened last night?
Did a Thai hooker break into my house, undress me, cleaned my room and left? A vigilante cleaner-whore? How much did I pay her? And why didn't she wash the dishes?
And why am I talking to myself with an Irish accent? The universe is vast and infinite. With untold tales and unsolved mysteries.
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
I...remember entertaining people last night. There were people sitting in a row, watching life pass idly by.
So, when I see people sitting in a row, watching life pass idly by, I started entertaining them. Send in the clowns, man. It used to be Alam, my mentor and beloved friend, who would do this, using me as a Mr Punch sometimes. Good times, man, Good times.
Of course, the very English Mr Punch originated from Italy. From the commedia d'ell arte. I hope I got the apostrophe right.
Punch was the character Pulcinello or Punchinello.
To make the Mr Punch voice, you would need a 'swatchell' - a thingamajig made from cotton, tin and string. Placed somewhere near the opening of the throat.
At some point, someone infected me with an Irish accent. And as we all know, the name Guiness is pronounced 'Ginis'. Not Gines. Not Guines. Ginis.
1759, it was. When old Darth Guiness started brewing the dark ruby liquid and treated them with fish floats. Floats inside the fishies.
You know Sherry? Prostitutes' and housewives' drink, Sherry. Came from Spain. British privateers (paid pirates) would rob Spanish galleons and steal hundreds of casks with the name 'Jerez' on it. They used to call it 'Jerrys', later bastardised to be Sherry.
In Portugal, it is sometimes called Xerez. They still call it Jerez in Spain.
Talking about Spanish galleons, the Venetian Galleas was an extremely durable ship. But a real sailor would prefer a sloop or maybe the brigantine, for traders. Know what a sloop is?
Never you mind.
Chinese junks had stern rudders.
What am I writing?
I need to shake this Irish accent off, man. And this sudden longing to sail...on a fucking sailboat.
My bonnie lies over the ocean...
My bonnie lies over the sea...
My boner is up and waiting...
I need to go and find some WD-40...
Tales from the Drunk Side: Stop the Presses!
It is with pride that I announce that I am back at The Malay Mail. The Malay Male. Back at The Malay Mail. This is probably the olast time I'm going to write about work in a while.
My first story might be out by Tuesday.
It feels...different. While my last stint felt like a dream, I feel more conscious this time around. More...in control. Of myself.
It also feels right. I loved the paper, and am prepared to love it again. It's been three years since I last printed something on Ted. Text-Editor. Now they have something else, but am prepared to use Word, Open Office or whatever that will get the job done.
You will see a lot of good stuff coming out. Some things will take time. Rome wasn't built in a day, and we're not building Rome. We're building something better. Something that will last more than a thousand years. Oops. More than 1,000 years. House style, motherfucker, house style.
But we'll get there. If anything I've learned from the wilderness that was not The Malay Mail these past three years, it is patience.
I spent 15 months working at Astro. Learning the dynamics, the way TV production works. And for the entirety of the three years, I had my own media company. I have my own media company - present tense, motherfucker. I have written TV and movie scripts. Advertisements and animations and animated features. Coffee table books and many other things. I started off some magazines. I am producing some TV stuff.
When the right time comes, you shall understand. And not a minute before.
I didn't re-join to do the same old shit I did last time. I'd die of boredom. I joined, because of my faith in the future. Of doing the right things. And to cast the shadow of evil to the side and being the way of the magic as well as the power of good.
I see it as the best platform to save the world. Because honestly, truthfully, that is what I was born to do. I am an idealist. So sue me. Other people, the pretenders, might claim to be superheroes. I, am the real deal.
I'll fucking dress up as a bat if it comes to it.
I don't know if I'll fail or if I'll succeed. But at least I'll live as I believe. Whitney Houston, yo!
Things have changed. Omnia mutantor; nihil inherit. Everything changes; nothing is truly lost.
Check back in a year. We'll see if it all happens according to plan.
My first story might be out by Tuesday.
It feels...different. While my last stint felt like a dream, I feel more conscious this time around. More...in control. Of myself.
It also feels right. I loved the paper, and am prepared to love it again. It's been three years since I last printed something on Ted. Text-Editor. Now they have something else, but am prepared to use Word, Open Office or whatever that will get the job done.
You will see a lot of good stuff coming out. Some things will take time. Rome wasn't built in a day, and we're not building Rome. We're building something better. Something that will last more than a thousand years. Oops. More than 1,000 years. House style, motherfucker, house style.
But we'll get there. If anything I've learned from the wilderness that was not The Malay Mail these past three years, it is patience.
I spent 15 months working at Astro. Learning the dynamics, the way TV production works. And for the entirety of the three years, I had my own media company. I have my own media company - present tense, motherfucker. I have written TV and movie scripts. Advertisements and animations and animated features. Coffee table books and many other things. I started off some magazines. I am producing some TV stuff.
When the right time comes, you shall understand. And not a minute before.
I didn't re-join to do the same old shit I did last time. I'd die of boredom. I joined, because of my faith in the future. Of doing the right things. And to cast the shadow of evil to the side and being the way of the magic as well as the power of good.
I see it as the best platform to save the world. Because honestly, truthfully, that is what I was born to do. I am an idealist. So sue me. Other people, the pretenders, might claim to be superheroes. I, am the real deal.
I'll fucking dress up as a bat if it comes to it.
I don't know if I'll fail or if I'll succeed. But at least I'll live as I believe. Whitney Houston, yo!
Things have changed. Omnia mutantor; nihil inherit. Everything changes; nothing is truly lost.
Check back in a year. We'll see if it all happens according to plan.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Kembara Seniman Jalangan
Gua tengah makan nasi beryani yang rasa macam nasi goreng.
Bada-bing!
Gua datang opis, lupa la pulak nak bawak benda.
Takpe. Nanti boleh bawak.
Gualah seniman jalangan.
Bada-bing!
Gua datang opis, lupa la pulak nak bawak benda.
Takpe. Nanti boleh bawak.
Gualah seniman jalangan.
The Novel
I have loads of work and a truckload of writing to do. Naturally, my solution is to embark on personal projects and see if I can break myself.
I have been writing a novel - this novel - for two years now. And every time I write it, like a collaboration between Neil Gaiman and another author - it gets shorter.
I have a scene I really like. The protagonist masturbates over the dead body of a girl he will eventually fall for.
It's an homage to a scene in Neon Genesis Evangelion. And I might turn it into a movie or telemovie before it ever becomes a book.
For now, whenever I take a break from writing stuff for work, I...write the novel. If I can finish it before 2012, I will be pleasantly surprised.
I have been writing a novel - this novel - for two years now. And every time I write it, like a collaboration between Neil Gaiman and another author - it gets shorter.
I have a scene I really like. The protagonist masturbates over the dead body of a girl he will eventually fall for.
It's an homage to a scene in Neon Genesis Evangelion. And I might turn it into a movie or telemovie before it ever becomes a book.
For now, whenever I take a break from writing stuff for work, I...write the novel. If I can finish it before 2012, I will be pleasantly surprised.
The High Cost of Living
Yet another one of my friends have been quarantined for H1N1. Makes me want to stay at home and masturbate.
On another note, a friend's mother passed away today. My condolences. I shall not be going to the funeral, as I believe there would be more useful friends around to help her go through with it.
My gift - the only thing I can give her - is the gift of space. To grieve and to mourn.
I am not pious enough to offer a prayer. And I am not sure where I put my Koran.
But perhaps this quote from Sandman will suffice:
"You are mortal. It is the mortal way. You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell. You grieve. Then you continue with your life.
And at times, the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on.
She is dead. You are alive.
So live."
- Brief Lives, Sandman by Neil Gaiman
It is indeed, the way of the humans. Our bodies are designed to last for more than 190 years, but we all die long before reaching that potential.
We all grow old, and then we die. And before that, we will lose our loved ones as well. And they will lose us.
On another note, a friend's mother passed away today. My condolences. I shall not be going to the funeral, as I believe there would be more useful friends around to help her go through with it.
My gift - the only thing I can give her - is the gift of space. To grieve and to mourn.
I am not pious enough to offer a prayer. And I am not sure where I put my Koran.
But perhaps this quote from Sandman will suffice:
"You are mortal. It is the mortal way. You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell. You grieve. Then you continue with your life.
And at times, the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on.
She is dead. You are alive.
So live."
- Brief Lives, Sandman by Neil Gaiman
It is indeed, the way of the humans. Our bodies are designed to last for more than 190 years, but we all die long before reaching that potential.
We all grow old, and then we die. And before that, we will lose our loved ones as well. And they will lose us.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Space and Time Jam
So I went for a morning meeting which became an afternoon meeting which later blossomed into a 3.30pm meeting.
I left the place at 5.30pm and rushed to my next meeting at 6.30pm.
That's when I got caught in THE WORST JAM EVAR.
I was two hours late to my meeting. FUCK!
Last time that happened was six years ago.
But the meeting went well. So, no complaints there.
So many things happened today.
So it is natural that I am ending it at the Press Club.
I brought ten bowls of tong sui. Funky fungus. Well received, I think.
Oh shit. Part of my eyesight is affected!
I can't really see properly. Hahahaha.
This must be some good drink.
I left the place at 5.30pm and rushed to my next meeting at 6.30pm.
That's when I got caught in THE WORST JAM EVAR.
I was two hours late to my meeting. FUCK!
Last time that happened was six years ago.
But the meeting went well. So, no complaints there.
So many things happened today.
So it is natural that I am ending it at the Press Club.
I brought ten bowls of tong sui. Funky fungus. Well received, I think.
Oh shit. Part of my eyesight is affected!
I can't really see properly. Hahahaha.
This must be some good drink.
Idle Minds
All my bags are packed, I'm a-ready to go.
I'm standing here, outside my whore.
Already, I'm so horny, God could cry.
So suck my dick and lick my ass. Toss my salad and have a reach-around.
Make sure I come on your face and that you'll swallow it tooooo...
Cause I'm masturbating...on an astral plane.
Don't know when I'll be Bach again.
Or Salieri. Mozart or Hadyn.
I'm standing here, outside my whore.
Already, I'm so horny, God could cry.
So suck my dick and lick my ass. Toss my salad and have a reach-around.
Make sure I come on your face and that you'll swallow it tooooo...
Cause I'm masturbating...on an astral plane.
Don't know when I'll be Bach again.
Or Salieri. Mozart or Hadyn.
Flip Floppy Donkey Dick
Of all the flip flop decisions in the world that they could make, the Government has decided once again to screw with the students. Why? Probably because the students can't vote. Yet.
Stupid.
Yeah, talking about the reverse on the PPSMI issue. It's nothing new, really. When I was in high school, they changed the name of Bahasa Malaysia every few months. Bahasa Malaysia. Then, Bahasa Melayu. Bahasa Malaysia again. Bahasa Melayu. We were following this with suspense, because writing in your name and the correct subject title was worth 1 or 2 points. SBP kids like me, we knew exactly how much went into where. That 1 or 2 points could be the difference between credit and distinction. A1 or A2.
And not only that, because of political pressure, they changed grammatical rules and even SPELLING.
How do you spell 'jalanraya' nowadays? They once changed it, on a whim, to 'jalan raya'. 'Keretapi' to 'kereta api'. 'Lebuhraya' to 'lebuh raya'. And then they changed it back again.
Fuck you and your constant state of flux.
While other, more established languages take years - decades, centuries even - to change the spelling of words, all it took for Bahasa Malaysia was a few months. I mean, I don't know if my teachers were shitting me, but it was ridiculous.
Same shit with this reverse on PPSMI.
Allow me to use a Malay thing - proverb, pantoume, saying, whateverthefuck: "Berakit-rakit ke hulu, berenang-renang ke tepian. Bersakit-sakit dahulu, bersenang-senang kemudian."
In this case, the aforementioned traveller is actually 'Berakit-rakit ke hulu, berakit-rakit ke hilir. Berenang-renang ke tengah, berenang-renang ke tepian.'
In other words, 'pi mai pi mai tang tu.'
And if you don't understand Bahasa Malaysia, then fuck off and die. Each Malaysian has learned BM for 11 years each, at the very least. If you can't grasp the fundamentals of a language after learning it for 11 years, you are stupid. Malaysia does not need stupid people like you. Do us a favour. Go home, pack your bags, douse yourself with gasoline and light yourself up on fire.
The kids are now moving in circles. Concentric circles, which will confuse them. If only the Government had enough balls to just make a decision and stick by it. It has only been what, six, seven years? How many billions have been spent on this shit? At the very least, allow one batch to go through and then you can have some data - albeit not that sufficient.
They are going to revert in 2012. Meaning my nephew, in Standard Three right now, can only learn Maths and Science in English till Standard Six or Form One. After that, he will be screwed, as the system undergoes yet another change, just to get more votes in the next election.
A separation of the executive and the judiciary? How about a separation of the executive and education? Get Khoo Kay Kim and Ungku Aziz on the job for education. Let's kick the executive out of schools.
Honestly, I don't give a shit what language they want to teach in. It's the flip-floppy donkey dick of a stand that worries me. Dr M would have simply said, "Fuck off, and fuck all! It's in English, so eat my shorts!" When you make a decision, you can't change it after some pressure groups pressure you. What would the OTHER pressure groups think? Expect more traffic jams as they take to the streets soon.
I just hope the Government sticks with this decision and stop shafting the education system in Malaysia.
Oops. Have to go for my morning meeting.
Cheerio!
Stupid.
Yeah, talking about the reverse on the PPSMI issue. It's nothing new, really. When I was in high school, they changed the name of Bahasa Malaysia every few months. Bahasa Malaysia. Then, Bahasa Melayu. Bahasa Malaysia again. Bahasa Melayu. We were following this with suspense, because writing in your name and the correct subject title was worth 1 or 2 points. SBP kids like me, we knew exactly how much went into where. That 1 or 2 points could be the difference between credit and distinction. A1 or A2.
And not only that, because of political pressure, they changed grammatical rules and even SPELLING.
How do you spell 'jalanraya' nowadays? They once changed it, on a whim, to 'jalan raya'. 'Keretapi' to 'kereta api'. 'Lebuhraya' to 'lebuh raya'. And then they changed it back again.
Fuck you and your constant state of flux.
While other, more established languages take years - decades, centuries even - to change the spelling of words, all it took for Bahasa Malaysia was a few months. I mean, I don't know if my teachers were shitting me, but it was ridiculous.
Same shit with this reverse on PPSMI.
Allow me to use a Malay thing - proverb, pantoume, saying, whateverthefuck: "Berakit-rakit ke hulu, berenang-renang ke tepian. Bersakit-sakit dahulu, bersenang-senang kemudian."
In this case, the aforementioned traveller is actually 'Berakit-rakit ke hulu, berakit-rakit ke hilir. Berenang-renang ke tengah, berenang-renang ke tepian.'
In other words, 'pi mai pi mai tang tu.'
And if you don't understand Bahasa Malaysia, then fuck off and die. Each Malaysian has learned BM for 11 years each, at the very least. If you can't grasp the fundamentals of a language after learning it for 11 years, you are stupid. Malaysia does not need stupid people like you. Do us a favour. Go home, pack your bags, douse yourself with gasoline and light yourself up on fire.
The kids are now moving in circles. Concentric circles, which will confuse them. If only the Government had enough balls to just make a decision and stick by it. It has only been what, six, seven years? How many billions have been spent on this shit? At the very least, allow one batch to go through and then you can have some data - albeit not that sufficient.
They are going to revert in 2012. Meaning my nephew, in Standard Three right now, can only learn Maths and Science in English till Standard Six or Form One. After that, he will be screwed, as the system undergoes yet another change, just to get more votes in the next election.
A separation of the executive and the judiciary? How about a separation of the executive and education? Get Khoo Kay Kim and Ungku Aziz on the job for education. Let's kick the executive out of schools.
Honestly, I don't give a shit what language they want to teach in. It's the flip-floppy donkey dick of a stand that worries me. Dr M would have simply said, "Fuck off, and fuck all! It's in English, so eat my shorts!" When you make a decision, you can't change it after some pressure groups pressure you. What would the OTHER pressure groups think? Expect more traffic jams as they take to the streets soon.
I just hope the Government sticks with this decision and stop shafting the education system in Malaysia.
Oops. Have to go for my morning meeting.
Cheerio!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Channeling: Buddha, Yeager and Wally West
Patience in demeanour, urgency in action.
There. Some form of sloganeering.
Like the 'cool in the saddle' way of Chuck Yeager.
You know Chuck Yeager? Pilot. Pilots' pilot. Test pilot, I think. For Northrop, maybe? First man to break the sound barrier, I think.
I read about him in a science fiction book. And then later, in an old edition of Reader's Digest.
The man's a legend. He established the 'kata' of being cool and saying stuff with a southern twang while piloting jetplanes. Fighter planes.
No matter what happens, you be cool...and slightly horny.
That's the Chuck Yeager way.
Buddha Inside. Buddha, Siddharta Gautama, acknowledges that the world is a joke. An illusion. A lie. Instead of fighting it, you accept the fact. And then release yourself from its confines. Nothing is important. Everything is evolving; everything is falling apart.
Wally West is the current Flash. I think. He is so fast that he can go beyond the speed of light and enter the Speed Force, which is a realm that is beyond the speed of light speedsters have access to.
Combine the three, and you get Getter Robo.
Stonerrrrr Sunnnnnn Shiiiiiiiiinnnnnnneeee!
There. Some form of sloganeering.
Like the 'cool in the saddle' way of Chuck Yeager.
You know Chuck Yeager? Pilot. Pilots' pilot. Test pilot, I think. For Northrop, maybe? First man to break the sound barrier, I think.
I read about him in a science fiction book. And then later, in an old edition of Reader's Digest.
The man's a legend. He established the 'kata' of being cool and saying stuff with a southern twang while piloting jetplanes. Fighter planes.
No matter what happens, you be cool...and slightly horny.
That's the Chuck Yeager way.
Buddha Inside. Buddha, Siddharta Gautama, acknowledges that the world is a joke. An illusion. A lie. Instead of fighting it, you accept the fact. And then release yourself from its confines. Nothing is important. Everything is evolving; everything is falling apart.
Wally West is the current Flash. I think. He is so fast that he can go beyond the speed of light and enter the Speed Force, which is a realm that is beyond the speed of light speedsters have access to.
Combine the three, and you get Getter Robo.
Stonerrrrr Sunnnnnn Shiiiiiiiiinnnnnnneeee!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Outbreak
One of my friends is currently at UH, trying to get a diagnosis whether or not he has H1N1 Influenza A.
This strain of the flu can only be fought by the body's own immune system, as over-the-counter flu medication only treat the symptoms. Use of anti-viral drugs might mutate the strain and make it more virulent. And over half of the anti-viral drugs sold over the Internet are counterfeit, according to sources.
Influenza A is basically the common flu virus. Except that it is a new strain. A vaccine can only be completed by September 2009, and only in limited quantities. Guess who will get the vaccines first, if any?
So, treatment would be ... lots of fluid? Soups. Hearty broths. Tom Yam. Ice packs to reduce the temperature, just in case some nerve damage occurs to the brain.
Vitamin C to boost the immune system and zinc to help absorb the vitamin. Proper rest.
Spreads via touch. Hopefully not airborne.
Man. Everyone's getting sick. Have to boost up immune systems for all.
In 1918, 40-100 million people died of a similar pandemic. Hopefully, this is just a passing thing. And that each of our immune systems are strong enough to fight it.
I am keeping close tabs on my friend. Hopefully, he has nothing else that could compromise his immune systems.
This strain of the flu can only be fought by the body's own immune system, as over-the-counter flu medication only treat the symptoms. Use of anti-viral drugs might mutate the strain and make it more virulent. And over half of the anti-viral drugs sold over the Internet are counterfeit, according to sources.
Influenza A is basically the common flu virus. Except that it is a new strain. A vaccine can only be completed by September 2009, and only in limited quantities. Guess who will get the vaccines first, if any?
So, treatment would be ... lots of fluid? Soups. Hearty broths. Tom Yam. Ice packs to reduce the temperature, just in case some nerve damage occurs to the brain.
Vitamin C to boost the immune system and zinc to help absorb the vitamin. Proper rest.
Spreads via touch. Hopefully not airborne.
Man. Everyone's getting sick. Have to boost up immune systems for all.
In 1918, 40-100 million people died of a similar pandemic. Hopefully, this is just a passing thing. And that each of our immune systems are strong enough to fight it.
I am keeping close tabs on my friend. Hopefully, he has nothing else that could compromise his immune systems.
Monday, July 6, 2009
ELARTI:GA - Sebuah Ulasan Gonzo Yang Bukan Ulasan
Ruhayat X seorang yang mengingatkan aku pada pelukis-pelukis, seniman dan filasuf serta pemfalsampah CM. Mereka yang banyak berkarya pada zaman 80an dulu. Kot?
Aku tak tau sama ada mereka wujud atau tidak, tetapi aku syak yang ada satu kabal penulis Bahasa Malaysia pada dekad 80an. Mereka menulis pasal kedai mamak, roti canai dan maggi goreng. Tulis zine underground. Tulis cerpen pasal naik bas. Pasal takde duit. Tulis sajak, tulis lagu. Macam dalam filem Kembara Seniman Jalanan. Imuda pernah bagi daging burger je kot? Zaman Seniman.
Bagi aku, Ruhayat X retro. Brand yang retro.
Aku pertama kali mendengar atau membaca nama Ruhayat X daripada Zedeck Siew. Zedeck Siew cukup merembes dengan penulisan Ruhayat X, atau nama sebenarnya, XXXX Ruhayat. Amri Ruhayat kot?
Zedeck Siew: Merembes air mak!
Satu benda aku tak puas hati. Tau la retro, brader. Tapi janganlah sampai binding pun pakai spiral kejadahnya? Ni kalau aku pindah bebila kang, aku bet RM10 (jumlah sama yang aku beli buku ni), yang ELARTI:GA akan sama ada musnah, hilang atau tercucuk kat lubang jubur aku.
Punyalah kecik buku ni!
Tapi, dalamnya ramai orang. Bukan macam LRT, tapi macam Bas Mini, kalau apa aku baca dalam Gila-Gila dulu betul la.
Ada sajak, ada artikel, ada 'rebiu'. 'Rebiu' ni kira macam 'rebat' la. Pasal taknak pakai 'diskaun', 'potongan' atau 'aku-bagi-balik-duit'. Aku paling menyampah dengan perkataan 'rebat'. Pasal walaupun patutnya menggantikan 'rebate', tapi takut tersasul dengan 'rebutt' atau 'membontoti semula' (tanya Anwar).
Berlainan dengan New Malaysian Essays 2(NME 2), ELARTI:GA masih segar kandungannya, walaupun formula lama.
Maksud aku, NME 2 menghidangkan susun halaman yang baik dan rekaan grafik yang menarik, serta penulisan bermutu tinggi susu awal lembu, tetapi isi kandungannya agak lemau. Topik yang sudah biat telinga aku dengar dijeluak keluar oleh sesetengah manusia.
ELARTI:GA lebih sebuah zine daripada buku atau majalah. Malah, gaya penulisan pun lebih kurang. Entah macam mana, kesegaran kandungannya masih okay.
Cuma, tiada siapa akan mengambil serius buku ini, kerana buku ini sendiri tidak mengambil serius akan kewujudannya. Ini ada baik dan buruknya.
Baiknya, buku ini akan popular dan senang didampingi gadis-gadis yang mahukan pengembaraan dengan mereka yang pengotor tetapi banyak membaca buku. Harganya yang rendah walaupun tidak berpatutan juga memungkinkan buku ini senang dimiliki oleh semua inteligentsia anak orang kaya yang suka mendabik dada kononnya miskin, walhal mabuk setiap hari.
Buruknya, buku ini lama-lama akan tersendal kat lubang jubur aku je, pasal binding tak best.
Yang penting: KANDUNGAN!
Pergi mampus sama kulit. Isinya yang lagi mahal. Cuba tengok karipap. Kelongsong karipap hanyalah tepung gandum dengan mentega yang digoreng. Isinya pula, adalah campuran daging, rempah, kentang (aku cuma makan karipap inti ubi kentang pasal aku tak suka jenis yang lain. Jenis yang inti ubi lain tu karipap ciplak. Karipap download. Karipap bittorent. Karipap Jonas Brothers.) yang digoreng dua kali.
Kandungan dah bagus. Kalau bindingnya terer, aku letak kat rak buku Billy aku. Kat para ketiga, bawah komik-komik oleh dewa-dewa penulisan Neil Gaiman dan Alan Moore. Sebaris dengan si gay Chuck Palahniuk. Dan buku pinjam (daripada Sharon Bakar) Anne Proulx serta Martin Amis.
Ni puji ni.
Penulisannya segar. Topiknya tiada halangan mental atau diskriminasi. Satu usaha yang lebih demokratik, walaupun masih one-sided, daripada NME 2.
Banyak cakap pasal indie - satu gerakan muzik yang aku tak pernah terlibat dengan. Sama macam aku tak pernah tengok Titanic dan aku tak pernah ada Facebook. Akulah Jejaka UMNO tegar yang menentang kolonoskopi Amerika.
ELARTI:GA melaungkan perasaan kesal bagaimana muzik indie sudah di-arus-perdana-kan. Dikelilingi dan diminati peminat Twilight dan Jonas Brothers, indie berada di takuk paling hina dalam sejarah manusia. Hahaha. Mangsa kejayaan sendiri.
AKu tak pernah indie. Zaman bebudak punk dulu, alternatif la, grunge la, aku dengar lagu iklan je. Takpun, lagu tema siri TV. Siap hafal lirik, beb. Aku ateis muzik. Tak pernah menyembah Tuhan Batu. Tak pernah hisap konek gangster hip hop.
Hahahaha. Indie dah mainstream. Rasakan! Rasakan! Padan muka! Ambiklah peminat-peminat Jonas Brothers tu, dan sumbat kat dalam lubang jubur taik! Muahahahaha!
Aku dah menang!
Akhir kata, belilah ELARTI: GA, demi mencapai Wawasan 2020. Bak kata pepatah, gulai lomak masakan Rawo, tumbuk lado segonggam godang...eh itu pantun. Apa-apa lah.
Gulai lomak masakan Rawo
Tumbuk lado segonggam godang
Kok awok raso penganen kito
Indakkan lupo jalan nan datang.
Dah, aku nak berak.
Aku tak tau sama ada mereka wujud atau tidak, tetapi aku syak yang ada satu kabal penulis Bahasa Malaysia pada dekad 80an. Mereka menulis pasal kedai mamak, roti canai dan maggi goreng. Tulis zine underground. Tulis cerpen pasal naik bas. Pasal takde duit. Tulis sajak, tulis lagu. Macam dalam filem Kembara Seniman Jalanan. Imuda pernah bagi daging burger je kot? Zaman Seniman.
Bagi aku, Ruhayat X retro. Brand yang retro.
Aku pertama kali mendengar atau membaca nama Ruhayat X daripada Zedeck Siew. Zedeck Siew cukup merembes dengan penulisan Ruhayat X, atau nama sebenarnya, XXXX Ruhayat. Amri Ruhayat kot?
Zedeck Siew: Merembes air mak!
Satu benda aku tak puas hati. Tau la retro, brader. Tapi janganlah sampai binding pun pakai spiral kejadahnya? Ni kalau aku pindah bebila kang, aku bet RM10 (jumlah sama yang aku beli buku ni), yang ELARTI:GA akan sama ada musnah, hilang atau tercucuk kat lubang jubur aku.
Punyalah kecik buku ni!
Tapi, dalamnya ramai orang. Bukan macam LRT, tapi macam Bas Mini, kalau apa aku baca dalam Gila-Gila dulu betul la.
Ada sajak, ada artikel, ada 'rebiu'. 'Rebiu' ni kira macam 'rebat' la. Pasal taknak pakai 'diskaun', 'potongan' atau 'aku-bagi-balik-duit'. Aku paling menyampah dengan perkataan 'rebat'. Pasal walaupun patutnya menggantikan 'rebate', tapi takut tersasul dengan 'rebutt' atau 'membontoti semula' (tanya Anwar).
Berlainan dengan New Malaysian Essays 2(NME 2), ELARTI:GA masih segar kandungannya, walaupun formula lama.
Maksud aku, NME 2 menghidangkan susun halaman yang baik dan rekaan grafik yang menarik, serta penulisan bermutu tinggi susu awal lembu, tetapi isi kandungannya agak lemau. Topik yang sudah biat telinga aku dengar dijeluak keluar oleh sesetengah manusia.
ELARTI:GA lebih sebuah zine daripada buku atau majalah. Malah, gaya penulisan pun lebih kurang. Entah macam mana, kesegaran kandungannya masih okay.
Cuma, tiada siapa akan mengambil serius buku ini, kerana buku ini sendiri tidak mengambil serius akan kewujudannya. Ini ada baik dan buruknya.
Baiknya, buku ini akan popular dan senang didampingi gadis-gadis yang mahukan pengembaraan dengan mereka yang pengotor tetapi banyak membaca buku. Harganya yang rendah walaupun tidak berpatutan juga memungkinkan buku ini senang dimiliki oleh semua inteligentsia anak orang kaya yang suka mendabik dada kononnya miskin, walhal mabuk setiap hari.
Buruknya, buku ini lama-lama akan tersendal kat lubang jubur aku je, pasal binding tak best.
Yang penting: KANDUNGAN!
Pergi mampus sama kulit. Isinya yang lagi mahal. Cuba tengok karipap. Kelongsong karipap hanyalah tepung gandum dengan mentega yang digoreng. Isinya pula, adalah campuran daging, rempah, kentang (aku cuma makan karipap inti ubi kentang pasal aku tak suka jenis yang lain. Jenis yang inti ubi lain tu karipap ciplak. Karipap download. Karipap bittorent. Karipap Jonas Brothers.) yang digoreng dua kali.
Kandungan dah bagus. Kalau bindingnya terer, aku letak kat rak buku Billy aku. Kat para ketiga, bawah komik-komik oleh dewa-dewa penulisan Neil Gaiman dan Alan Moore. Sebaris dengan si gay Chuck Palahniuk. Dan buku pinjam (daripada Sharon Bakar) Anne Proulx serta Martin Amis.
Ni puji ni.
Penulisannya segar. Topiknya tiada halangan mental atau diskriminasi. Satu usaha yang lebih demokratik, walaupun masih one-sided, daripada NME 2.
Banyak cakap pasal indie - satu gerakan muzik yang aku tak pernah terlibat dengan. Sama macam aku tak pernah tengok Titanic dan aku tak pernah ada Facebook. Akulah Jejaka UMNO tegar yang menentang kolonoskopi Amerika.
ELARTI:GA melaungkan perasaan kesal bagaimana muzik indie sudah di-arus-perdana-kan. Dikelilingi dan diminati peminat Twilight dan Jonas Brothers, indie berada di takuk paling hina dalam sejarah manusia. Hahaha. Mangsa kejayaan sendiri.
AKu tak pernah indie. Zaman bebudak punk dulu, alternatif la, grunge la, aku dengar lagu iklan je. Takpun, lagu tema siri TV. Siap hafal lirik, beb. Aku ateis muzik. Tak pernah menyembah Tuhan Batu. Tak pernah hisap konek gangster hip hop.
Hahahaha. Indie dah mainstream. Rasakan! Rasakan! Padan muka! Ambiklah peminat-peminat Jonas Brothers tu, dan sumbat kat dalam lubang jubur taik! Muahahahaha!
Aku dah menang!
Akhir kata, belilah ELARTI: GA, demi mencapai Wawasan 2020. Bak kata pepatah, gulai lomak masakan Rawo, tumbuk lado segonggam godang...eh itu pantun. Apa-apa lah.
Gulai lomak masakan Rawo
Tumbuk lado segonggam godang
Kok awok raso penganen kito
Indakkan lupo jalan nan datang.
Dah, aku nak berak.
Top 5 Movies. Ever
1. Fight Club
- I know it's going to be on a lot of people's list, but what can I say? The movie's good. I watched it 11 times. More than that, I think.
2. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
- A movie about Hunter S Thompson, his Gonzo journalism and drugs. Best drug movie ever.
3. Babe
- best talking pig movie. Better than Animal Farm. Was called the 'Citizen Kane of talking pig movies'. And it's better than Citizen Kane.
4. The Incredibles
- Best 3D animated movie ever. EVER.
5. A Clockwork Orange
- Appo polly logies, my droogs.
6. South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut.
- Know it's top five, but South Park's first movie (hoping there would be more) is one of the greatest works of art ever done by mankind. I watched it over 23 times. Best movie, best songs. EVER.
7. Goodbye Mr Chips
- I saw this one, one late night on TV2. It's an inspirational teacher movie which, I found out later, had actually won an Academy Award.
This is the kind of movie I would like to do someday.
- I know it's going to be on a lot of people's list, but what can I say? The movie's good. I watched it 11 times. More than that, I think.
2. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
- A movie about Hunter S Thompson, his Gonzo journalism and drugs. Best drug movie ever.
3. Babe
- best talking pig movie. Better than Animal Farm. Was called the 'Citizen Kane of talking pig movies'. And it's better than Citizen Kane.
4. The Incredibles
- Best 3D animated movie ever. EVER.
5. A Clockwork Orange
- Appo polly logies, my droogs.
6. South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut.
- Know it's top five, but South Park's first movie (hoping there would be more) is one of the greatest works of art ever done by mankind. I watched it over 23 times. Best movie, best songs. EVER.
7. Goodbye Mr Chips
- I saw this one, one late night on TV2. It's an inspirational teacher movie which, I found out later, had actually won an Academy Award.
This is the kind of movie I would like to do someday.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
M Nasir! Keluar Dari Mimpi-mimpi KUUUUU!
Kalau aku mimpikan M Nasir,
Adakah itu tandanya gay?
Celaka betul lah.
Tadi, lepas makan satay pasar malam Bangsar, aku pun dengan muka tersengih, tutup komputer dan pergi tidur kejap.
Aku bermimpi aku dekat hospital, yang katilnya double-decker. Katil betingkat.
Aku tak heran pun, kenapa kalau kat hospital ada katil double-decker? Gila ke apa? Kalau mamat tu patah kaki, camana nak panjat katil atas?
Panjang jugak mimpi ni, pasal ada subplot aku dengan family aku. Lantaklah.
Pastu tetiba, lepas orang mandi Subuh (bukan sembahyang Subuh), ada breakfast. AKu pergi mandi Subuh, jadi aku pun tak segan pergi makan breakfast.
Masa breakfast, ada la pulak jenis yang berserban ni nak cakap banyak la pulak. Menyampah betul aku. Dia tak puas hati apa entah. Nak sound sapa entah. Aku ingat nak sound aku. Dah ready nak gaduh dah, tapi rupa-rupanya ada sorang pakcik tua yang aku kenal.
Gaduh pasal mamat tu bawak pelacur masuk wad. Tak puas hati tak dapat blowjob la tu.
Aku pun cakap dengan orang sebelah je. "Kalau aku, aku tak bawak pelacur masuk hospital. Nak buat, buat kat luar la beb! Nanti mamat-mamat serban perasan bagus ni semua stim ni kang. Diorang ko taulah, kalau mak sendiri pun kena tutup macam tutup perabot. Takut syahwat, katanya."
Pastu, breakfast tu terus bertukar jadi dinner.
Yang speselnya dinner malam tu - Makanan Jepun seafood. Kitorang kena serve dengan perempuan-perempuan Jepun. Mujur aku ada girlpren - dalam mimpi tulah, kisahnya macam tu - jadi aku tak rogol. Flirt ada lah.
Dia letak makanan sikit-sikit kat pinggan. Aku pun mula mengayat dengan beberapa patah nihong go yang aku tau.
Aku: kore kore, nan desu ka?
Perempuan Jepun: Hi hi hi. Sakana desu. Cucuk kan dah tau?
Amende cucuk-cucuk ni pulak?
Dia jugak letak satu kulit siput dengan seekor ketam kecik kat ujung, tempat buka cengkerangnya.
AKu ingat, 'stuffed-shell crab', dalam bentuk 'pun'. AKu belek, rupa-rupanya ada siput babi dalam cengkerang siput tu tengah makan ketam kecik tu. Ko nak aku makan siput babi yang tengah makan ketam ke? Apa punya statement la ni?
Pastu, aku tidur. Ya, dalam mimpi tidur aku, aku tidur. Lepas tu, ada satu family kejutkan aku secara separuh sengaja. Sindir-sindir, aku ingat nak suruh aku blah la.
Aku fikir, aku ni tak sakit apa-apa, jadi patutnya lah aku kasi dia katil aku tu, pasal ini hospital. Tapi aku tak suka Melayu yang suka sindir-sindir. Pukimak ko lah.
Tapi takpe. AKu pun bangun, pastu aku tengok katil atas aku, kosong lagi. Alaaa...kasi la pakcik tu tidur kat atas. Yang kaco tidur aku apasal?
Tiba-tiba, aku kat Kampung Batu Sawar, kat sebelah kampung aku, Kampung Bukit Kuin Satu. Sebelah Sungai Riau, off Sungai Kuantan, off SUngai Pahang.
Rumah M Nasir, kat Batu Sawar. Rumah kampung makcik aku yang dah lama meninggal. Tiba-tiba, aku rasa macam kena jumpa M Nasir. Apasal? AKu dah tak ingat.
Jadi aku dengan selambanya masuk ke rumah kayu tu. M Nasir takde. Jadi aku lepak dulu.
M Nasir balik dengan bininya. Aku secara magiknya tau, bini M Nasir ni baik orangnya, tapi aku tak ingat siapa. Bila aku tengok muka, macam dah kena delete.
Dalam dunia sebenar, aku bukanlah selalu lepak dengan M Nasir. Jumpa pernahlah. Dia, Ramli Sarip, tu semua klan muzik tinggi-tinggi. Muzik dia, panjat bukit. Duduk atas gunung. Bertapa. Muzik aku, turun ke lembah. Pergi paya. Tanam padi. Tanam kangkung. Tanam manggis. Bekerja.
Muzik aku, bukan muzik jalanan. Muzik perlembahan. Bukan perlimbahan. Perlembahan. Dan aku tak tulis muzik. Lirik pun idak. Aku dengar je terer lah.
Anyway, M Nasir dalam mimpi aku ni, tak boleh berhenti bergerak. Kat keliling mulut dia, ada kesan macam bedak putih.
"Ah sudah!" Kata aku dalam hati. "M Nasir versi crack head!"
Adulaaaa.
Dia tak berenti bergerak pasal hilang keseimbangan badan.
M Nasir: Ko datang nak apa, Amir?
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
M Nasir: Amende ko nak?
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
M Nasir: Cepat le sikit.
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
Aduh! Aku dalam mimpi ni. Kalau aku dah susun ayat, mesti ikut turutan. Jangan le menyampuk. Tapi sebenarnya, aku pun dah lupa kenapa aku nak jumpa dia. Apa aku nak mintak pun aku tak tau.
M Nasir: Ko nak mintak kebenaran nak buat movie pakai lagu aku ke?
Bukan!
M Nasir: Aku takde hal punya, tapi ko kena tanya band lah!
M Nasir ada band la pulak? Maksud aku, sekarang ni M Nasir ada band? Apa punya mimpi lah.
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
M Nasir: Aku terus terang dengan ko, aku dah lama nak buat filem ni, tapi band aku tu lah, susah sangat nak kasi semua orang setuju. Susah sangat nak kumpul.
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
Ahhh! Aku dah malas pasal aku memang betul-betul lupa kenapa aku datang ke rumah M nasir kat Batu Sawar. Dahlah crackhead pulak tu. Asyik garu leher je mamat ni.
Amir: Takpelah, aku nak balik dululah.
Aku pun balik, lalu terjaga daripada mimpi aku.
Minggu depan, aku tak makan satay dah kot?
Adakah itu tandanya gay?
Celaka betul lah.
Tadi, lepas makan satay pasar malam Bangsar, aku pun dengan muka tersengih, tutup komputer dan pergi tidur kejap.
Aku bermimpi aku dekat hospital, yang katilnya double-decker. Katil betingkat.
Aku tak heran pun, kenapa kalau kat hospital ada katil double-decker? Gila ke apa? Kalau mamat tu patah kaki, camana nak panjat katil atas?
Panjang jugak mimpi ni, pasal ada subplot aku dengan family aku. Lantaklah.
Pastu tetiba, lepas orang mandi Subuh (bukan sembahyang Subuh), ada breakfast. AKu pergi mandi Subuh, jadi aku pun tak segan pergi makan breakfast.
Masa breakfast, ada la pulak jenis yang berserban ni nak cakap banyak la pulak. Menyampah betul aku. Dia tak puas hati apa entah. Nak sound sapa entah. Aku ingat nak sound aku. Dah ready nak gaduh dah, tapi rupa-rupanya ada sorang pakcik tua yang aku kenal.
Gaduh pasal mamat tu bawak pelacur masuk wad. Tak puas hati tak dapat blowjob la tu.
Aku pun cakap dengan orang sebelah je. "Kalau aku, aku tak bawak pelacur masuk hospital. Nak buat, buat kat luar la beb! Nanti mamat-mamat serban perasan bagus ni semua stim ni kang. Diorang ko taulah, kalau mak sendiri pun kena tutup macam tutup perabot. Takut syahwat, katanya."
Pastu, breakfast tu terus bertukar jadi dinner.
Yang speselnya dinner malam tu - Makanan Jepun seafood. Kitorang kena serve dengan perempuan-perempuan Jepun. Mujur aku ada girlpren - dalam mimpi tulah, kisahnya macam tu - jadi aku tak rogol. Flirt ada lah.
Dia letak makanan sikit-sikit kat pinggan. Aku pun mula mengayat dengan beberapa patah nihong go yang aku tau.
Aku: kore kore, nan desu ka?
Perempuan Jepun: Hi hi hi. Sakana desu. Cucuk kan dah tau?
Amende cucuk-cucuk ni pulak?
Dia jugak letak satu kulit siput dengan seekor ketam kecik kat ujung, tempat buka cengkerangnya.
AKu ingat, 'stuffed-shell crab', dalam bentuk 'pun'. AKu belek, rupa-rupanya ada siput babi dalam cengkerang siput tu tengah makan ketam kecik tu. Ko nak aku makan siput babi yang tengah makan ketam ke? Apa punya statement la ni?
Pastu, aku tidur. Ya, dalam mimpi tidur aku, aku tidur. Lepas tu, ada satu family kejutkan aku secara separuh sengaja. Sindir-sindir, aku ingat nak suruh aku blah la.
Aku fikir, aku ni tak sakit apa-apa, jadi patutnya lah aku kasi dia katil aku tu, pasal ini hospital. Tapi aku tak suka Melayu yang suka sindir-sindir. Pukimak ko lah.
Tapi takpe. AKu pun bangun, pastu aku tengok katil atas aku, kosong lagi. Alaaa...kasi la pakcik tu tidur kat atas. Yang kaco tidur aku apasal?
Tiba-tiba, aku kat Kampung Batu Sawar, kat sebelah kampung aku, Kampung Bukit Kuin Satu. Sebelah Sungai Riau, off Sungai Kuantan, off SUngai Pahang.
Rumah M Nasir, kat Batu Sawar. Rumah kampung makcik aku yang dah lama meninggal. Tiba-tiba, aku rasa macam kena jumpa M Nasir. Apasal? AKu dah tak ingat.
Jadi aku dengan selambanya masuk ke rumah kayu tu. M Nasir takde. Jadi aku lepak dulu.
M Nasir balik dengan bininya. Aku secara magiknya tau, bini M Nasir ni baik orangnya, tapi aku tak ingat siapa. Bila aku tengok muka, macam dah kena delete.
Dalam dunia sebenar, aku bukanlah selalu lepak dengan M Nasir. Jumpa pernahlah. Dia, Ramli Sarip, tu semua klan muzik tinggi-tinggi. Muzik dia, panjat bukit. Duduk atas gunung. Bertapa. Muzik aku, turun ke lembah. Pergi paya. Tanam padi. Tanam kangkung. Tanam manggis. Bekerja.
Muzik aku, bukan muzik jalanan. Muzik perlembahan. Bukan perlimbahan. Perlembahan. Dan aku tak tulis muzik. Lirik pun idak. Aku dengar je terer lah.
Anyway, M Nasir dalam mimpi aku ni, tak boleh berhenti bergerak. Kat keliling mulut dia, ada kesan macam bedak putih.
"Ah sudah!" Kata aku dalam hati. "M Nasir versi crack head!"
Adulaaaa.
Dia tak berenti bergerak pasal hilang keseimbangan badan.
M Nasir: Ko datang nak apa, Amir?
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
M Nasir: Amende ko nak?
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
M Nasir: Cepat le sikit.
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
Aduh! Aku dalam mimpi ni. Kalau aku dah susun ayat, mesti ikut turutan. Jangan le menyampuk. Tapi sebenarnya, aku pun dah lupa kenapa aku nak jumpa dia. Apa aku nak mintak pun aku tak tau.
M Nasir: Ko nak mintak kebenaran nak buat movie pakai lagu aku ke?
Bukan!
M Nasir: Aku takde hal punya, tapi ko kena tanya band lah!
M Nasir ada band la pulak? Maksud aku, sekarang ni M Nasir ada band? Apa punya mimpi lah.
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
M Nasir: Aku terus terang dengan ko, aku dah lama nak buat filem ni, tapi band aku tu lah, susah sangat nak kasi semua orang setuju. Susah sangat nak kumpul.
Amir: Aku sebenarnya datang ni, nak mintak...
Ahhh! Aku dah malas pasal aku memang betul-betul lupa kenapa aku datang ke rumah M nasir kat Batu Sawar. Dahlah crackhead pulak tu. Asyik garu leher je mamat ni.
Amir: Takpelah, aku nak balik dululah.
Aku pun balik, lalu terjaga daripada mimpi aku.
Minggu depan, aku tak makan satay dah kot?
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