Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Beast of Burden

I just spent two hours on the phone, talking to an old friend.

I just wanted to bitch about some things, how I have somehow inherited the brown man's burden. So many things and so many people for me to consider, as well as their families. The sword of Damocles, the yoke.

Painting myself as a Buddha the Barbarian. Wearing his crown upon a troubled brow.

It turned - without me even finishing my stories - into quite an interesting feedback from my old friend. I had to swallow most of it. Bitter pill. Good medicine. I guess I am still a bit masochistic, after all these years.

The answers have always been there in the first place. Live in the now. Focus. Hustle. Loyalty. Respect.

People always ask me, how do I do all these things, because it seems a lot. But it's not, really. When you approach things one at a time, at any one moment, you are only facing one thing.

I am also a chronic problem addict. I crave puzzles. When I run out of puzzles, I go crazy. Each task, is a game. A puzzle. And while the rest of the world can go to hell in a teacup, I am still just that little dork with a puzzle, sitting in the corner, trying to make things work.

Thank God I am not cool, and was never cool. Cool people always have to take care of how they look. I am naturally beautiful, so I don't have to worry. And even if I do look like shit sometimes, hey, it adds character. Dimension. Grit. I am so fucking gritty.

The puzzles I have before me, are varied. A thousand million different ones. With billions of moving parts. Juggling chainsaws.

Collectively, I would have died under the sheer weight of it. The collective complexity would have driven me crazy.

But, one by one, it is reduced to its empirical state. Then you start lining them up, one after another. Then you knock them out of the park. Or not. It happens.

The puzzles' job is to confound you. Make sure your brain can't work around anything. But when you do unravel one tiny part of it, the rest snowballs in.

Before you know it, that ball of puzzles has turned into a transforming robot. All it takes is time, and patience. My weakness has always been patience, as time is a constant.

Well, one thing I must never forget - enjoying the puzzle. Appreciating it. Without that, you might as well kill yourself.

Insomniac III

Okay. Next week's work finished. As far as it can be. Now, officially, I have nothing to do.

I'll go read a book.

Insomniac II

Fuck. I just finished tomorrow's work. And now, I got nothing to do.

I cleared four pieces. Only one piece remains to be sent. But that one will probably only come in tomorrow.

It's 5am. Should I try to sleep again, or should I just stay awake till morning? There is no football left.

Am waiting for three things from a partner. Those are not in yet.

Wait. There are things to be planned for Thursday and next week. I might as well get that going.


That's it. I don't think I can sleep. I was about to sleep when a friend messaged me with some shit and I ended up listening. Then, I reached for two cans of coffee I had stashed somewhere.

The result? That one went to sleep, and I am now wide awake. What a loser.

So, I might as well do some work.

Sent some TV crawler things. So am now editing stories for tomorrow. Let's see if my insomnia can be cured by work.


I sensed a disturbance in the force. One person I know was in trouble.

"To the Batmobile, let's go!" I said to no one in particular.

"Atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed! Roger! Ready to move out!"

I went into my room, and sat on my chair. And logged into Facebook. I'm playing Airline Manager.


I played and did some work, as my friend went through some shit, I'm sure.

I was like, "Mmm... hope she's not stupid and kill herself or something."

Even though I am the Lord of Destruction, I hate to see anyone get hurt. But... these things, you can't control. Blablabla.

And then, the fucker's still alive. Well, if she was dead, I had mentally written a fitting eulogy.

In any case, that was the end of my anxiety. Phew. Now to get out of these leather tights and get into bed...

Facebook Vs Pussy

One girl wanted me to set up Facebook for her.

"I only want my friends to see me on Facebook," she said.

"Okay, that's kind of the point," I said, smoking again.

"But I want people to see what I write about Twlight."

I shivered in the wind like the last leaf on a dying tree.

"That's... a bit unwise... but hey, it's your account. Do whatever. Go crazy."

"But I only want Twilight fans to be able to see my discussion about the books and the movies."

"Ah," I said. "That's one thing even Facebook can't do - read your mind."

Especially the female mind.

End of story? The girl DID NOT set up a Facebook account, and I didn't get pussy.

Oh well.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Other People's Lives

Some of my friends have me worried. But I know that my worry and concern are temporary, and will pass. I also know that no matter what I do or say, their lives are theirs to live. I can't live it for them, make their decisions for them or even make them feel what I want them to feel.

I tried that before. I'm a superhero, right? Batman always has a plan. I am the power of good and the way of the magic. The light, the truth. Whatever.

In the past, I imposed my fearsome will on some people. And they never learned anything, and keep on making the same mistakes. It was easy for me to see it - I was watching from the outside. I was watching the paths I myself have trodden. Maybe that is what it is like for people I look up to, who constantly advise me on things.

"If I could, I would dower you with experience, without experience."

- Neil Gaiman's father.

Letting go was, and I guess still is, one of the hardest things for me to do.

If you're someone I care about, I will stand by you, regardless whether you are right or wrong. Right and wrong are human concepts anyway, and change with time. But whenever I do that, they keep on running up to the same wall and get their noses bloodied.

It frustrates me, sometimes. But I am not God. It's not my job, really. End of the day, I am just a man. A really, really, really, really, really, ridiculously good-looking man, but a man nonetheless.

I can only wish you well. Oh well.

Character Design

When I was small, instead of an invisible friend, I believed that there was an invisible camera crew filming me. Waiting to jump out and say, "You're on Candid Camera, bitch!"

And that was wayyy before that Jim Carrey movie.

I create layers and layers on top of myself, so that if anyone penetrates the first layer, I'll distract them with a second layer.

I have discovered that people are lazy. They can only put you in one box at a time. They don't have access to 100% of their brains, so they can only see one facet of anyone or anything and judge them or that as that.

"Oh, he's like this."

"Oh, she's like that."

Very few can hardly see the duality of man, let alone the utterly complex nature of each human.

Inside each person, even boring ones, is a universe. Filled with shit and gems and glittering stars and deep, dark black holes and whatever the fuck. Anything and everything you can ever think of.

Therefore, every character is multi-dimensional. Super-dimensional. It takes a lot of time to understand even a limited number of anything of anyone. The best you can ever hope for is just getting a feel and shape of it. The CURRENT feel and shape. As the world turns, so do human characters shift and stay in a constant state of flux.

The thing is not to get lost in each individual dimension, but to experience things as a whole. The good and the bad. The beautiful and the ugly. The fake and the real. Sometimes, honestly, these are all the same things. Seen from different angles.


Sunday, June 27, 2010

This, Too, Shall Pass

Since I am the world's leading expert on negativity, some people asked me how do they get out of a funk or a jam?

Well, I'm only 30. So I don't have enough experience yet. But for what I have been through, only one thing has ever worked.

This, too, shall pass.

A realisation that nothing lasts. Absolutely nothing.

Given a long enough timeline, everyone's survival rate drops to zero.

- Chuck Palahniuk

Just that it's not only everyone. It's every THING as well. Inanimate objects, thoughts, and even emotions and dreams.

All structures are not stable.

- sufi teaching

It's true. Chemical chains are always in a state of flux, the universe trying to get into balance. The energy which creates different matter by having separate atomic and molecule chains is trying to get back to its original state. An inert state. A non-reactive state.

There is nothing you can do to make yourself happy, when you are sad or hurt.

Drugs and alcohol are cheap fixes. Ultimately temporary and creates many other problems. Trust me. That one never lasts. And is potentially quite damaging.

Some people do things, not to make them happy, but to make them even more miserable. Because some think that another pain - a bigger one, perhaps - may take their other, current pain away.


I don't know.

But that has never worked for me.

When you realise and accept that nothing is permanent, then you are at some level of peace. From there, that point, you can take action. Or not.

Nothing lasts forever. Just remember. This, too, shall pass.

A Whore, A Whore, My Kingdom for a Whore

I'mmmm Henry the VIII I am! Henry the VIII I am-Iam! I got married to the widow next door. She's been married seven times before.

I am sleepy, and tired. Been a very busy day.

Was doing some creative projects. Some stuff which I thought was finished, turned out was not done at all, so I had to step in.

Tripled my work, but thank God I have friends I can trust to ease the burden.

We stay the course. No matter what.

When I make a decision I am confident of, I never turn back. That's just bullshit, man.

Oh well.

I got to go to work tomorrow. So, sleep is a priority. Fuck everything. They can all wait tomorrow.


Saturday, June 26, 2010

Futurama is Back!

I have rules, self-imposed, and if I ever break them, that has only given me cause for pain. So I don't break them anymore.

One of the rules is - I DO NOT WATCH DOG MOVIES.

No fucking way, man. All About My Dog, this Japanese movie, right. I watched it with some hardened film critics and 'intellectuals'. By the end of the movie, there was not a dry pair of eyes in the house.

One of the saddest dog stories ever was from Futurama.

I just watched the two first episodes of Futurama, now BACK on Comedy Central. But if they ever bring that dog back, Fry's dog, I won't watch that!

Cause Fry's dog's story is one of the saddest things I ever saw in Futurama. Or anywhere.

Fry had a dog, see. A mutt that followed him around delivering pizza. When Fry got frozen in 1999, the dog was not frozen with him. This was shown in the epuside Jurassic Bark.


The dog, it waited for Fry till it died in a volcano explosion or alien invasion or something. In New York City. For like, I dunno, 10 years or something. Every single day, it just waited outside the pizza shop.

And they played a fucking soothing song while showing the dog waiting, all throughout the end credits. Fucking cheap trick! Cheap trick!


Dogs are fucking stupid, man. I hate dogs.


I just got up from a 12-hour sleep. I didn't sleep at all, two nights ago, finishing up some stuff.

I called up some people, and ALL of them are asleep. I guess this is how it feels to call me in the morning. Ha-ha!

I'm pumped up and ready to go. And just last night, I thought of taking a few days off.

A break is long overdue. I don't want to spend it in Kuantan, as that is worse than work, and I don't have money to go to Thailand. Not yet.

So I'm thinking of taking a few days off and just staying at home, calling up old friends.

My friends are really becoming an endangered species at the moment. I just found out that yet another guy will be transferred to London by the end of the year.

Another just got job offers from UNDP. The one I applied to years ago, but in a different division. He'll be working in Bonn, Germany.

Oh well. I'll still be here for the next several years, at least. But my plans never do come true. They always turn out better. Everything that has ever happened, good or bad, has pushed me in the proper place and time to do things I never thought I would do.

I mean, I never thought I'd do movies. Until I did three (wrote seven, three got made). And now, some other projects have come to view. We'll see how that goes.

If I had taken that Bonn job a few years back, I wouldn't have been able to work with KRU, The Malay Mail, or the people I am currently working with. I'd be in Germany. Drinking. And working in a library.

Fuck, man. I still have the German for Dummies book. Only thing I learned was that Volkswagen is pronounced Folksvagen. Cause V is F, W is V, the first S is a Z or some shit like that, and that German likes to use the arabic letters KHO, TDZO and AIN as well as GHAIN in their pronunciation.

Meanwhile, I have written another piece for the World Cup website: Click Here. Danny Lim has as much credit as I to be able to come up with this piece, and I do like it myself, even though there are some mistakes in tenses at the end and there are some portions that could have been funnier.

Working on this has reminded me of the fun I had writing. So much has happened these past two years that I forgot to enjoy most of the process. I was really excited and happy to see the two pieces I have up there published. If anything, that was the intention of the two pieces - to have fun.

It was like seeing actors speak the lines I wrote on the big screen. That, was a rush.

Okay. I just woke up one of my collaborators. Have a meeting at three, and another at four. Maybe there is still time to rest before the great push.

Well, see you after the breach!

Friday, June 25, 2010

Dental Mental

Haven't slept yet. At the dentist. Standing room only!

Man, dentists are popular. I got two teeth to be looked at. Problematic. Man. As a reward, if everything goes well, I'll get a massage.


Am too tired now, to finish the concepts of my next projects. I don't want to sleep, as I have a dental appointment at 10am. So I'll just write here.

Lots of people come up to me and tell me they have good ideas. And that their ideas are so good, it would be a privilege for me to collaborate with them.

Here's their deal: They will TELL me their idea, and then I get the privilege of WRITING it, DEVELOPING it, PITCHING it, PRODUCING it, SELLING it, and finally it gets on TV or the cinemas or in print. And then they make a million bucks, and I get thrown a bone or two.

You know what?

Okay, you have an idea.


Okay, let me tell you how it works outside of your fantasy land.

The job of sitting around, just giving ideas verbally, and getting paid for it - I only know one or two people who can honestly say that this is their job.

How do they get that kind of job?

Well, how about over two decades of proven track records? And by proven track records, I mean their shows would have been at some point the top shows in the country, and it is because of them and their ideas that the shows are the top ones in the country.

There are a few people who, when they open their mouths to say something, I immediately shut up and listen, which is a hard thing for me to do. Cause I love the sound of my own voice.

Why? Cause they know their shit.

So. If you are NOT one of these people, honestly speaking, your ideas are not really worth that much.

Furthermore, ideas, at their seed stage, no matter who gives them, are useless.

Ideas need to be nurtured, developed and executed well. Execution is everything.

Look at Avatar. To me, that is THE best executed movie of all time. Simple idea, common storyline, creative but hardly original design. But the execution, oh my science.

Some people don't even have ideas. They have gimmicks.

"Let's do a story where everything is backwards!"

"Let's do a story where a manly-man gets pregnant! It'll be funny, LOL!"

The problem with gimmicks is two-fold:

1. A good gimmick would have been used by better people before. For the above examples, Memento and Irreversible for backwards plot, and Junior for the second one.

2. A gimmick is only the hook. What a project needs is not JUST a hook, but substance. There must be the soul of the story, a driving creative intention.

Okay, let's talk about the driving creative intention. The soul.

In The Prestige, the hook would be: "There's two of them! LOL!"

But the driving creative intention would be performance as a little death. How art is discarding a little portion of your life and dying bit by bit. How performers only have only a half a life.

I am a performer. An online performer. Read my articles, and you will see the many personas I have created for you. For your pleasure.

Romantic and cynical, kind and cruel, wise and stupid.

I am Harlequin and Pulcinello. The Trickster. Unbeatable. Invulnerable. Immortal.

This is getting incestuous and self-absorbed, but it's 7.25am and I haven't slept yet. So fuck you. Here goes.

The idea behind my online forays on THIS blog is multiparted.

1. The original driving force was to show how writing is a farce. There is no real credibility, and you can never trust everything you read. Not even this sentence.

2. Contradictions abound here. I am all for Freedom of Speech, but wish for liberals to shut up. It is a mirror to a mirror. Infinity.

3. I need a place to wank and to write stories I can't publish in the papers. To have an alternate life outside of work, which at one point consumed me.

4. To poke, and to challenge. If you do not agree that women are all prostitutes, or that all politicians are stupid, evil, vile people, then prove me wrong. I'll be happy for the statement to be wrong. Alas, I am right. Boo fucking hoo. I don't really care. Nothing I say or you say can ever change the truth. But if I can move some people for good things, then why not?

5. To wank. Because my head is full and I need to crap.

ANyway, yes, The Prestige. Art is a little death. La petit mort. Orgasmic. There are other themes, but that is the one that speaks to me. That, and TESLA!

I have died and reborn so many times here. Maybe, maybe THAT's a good idea for a TV series. Or a movie. A man who keeps dying and reborn again.

Ah, whatever. Who cares?

Sing for the Moment

Man oh man oh man oh man oh man.

I am still greatly amused at the growth of some people.

A friend I called up last night is moving up. She is doing well and her career is set to bloom soon.

A dear, dear friend just emailed from overseas with updates on my contingent over there. Yes. MY Contingent.

Most of my friends left the country a few years ago. I... had a hand in convincing some of them that Malaysia is not enough. That there are places in the world for them. That would accept their oddities and insecurities and tolerate their bullshit.

That achieving great work can sometimes be done with a simple shift in perception, or a giant shift in location.

I am really happy to see all these nice people doing well. And that idiots continue to flounder in their small and petty world.

For a brief moment, I thought that there is justice in the world, and that made all the injustices bearable. It was worth it.

I know I shouldn't, but I do miss them. I looked through my phone book for people to call, and I can see that the list, while growing bigger (over 2000 phone numbers), the number of people I can call up has shrunk.

I have efectively decimated my personal support system. Which is why I am going to grow more inwards and isolated in the next few months and years.

I need to condition myself for the day when all of them are gone. Flown the coop. Or maybe I'll pack up and leave, myself, after my affairs are done. My plans never come true, but you never know.

For now, I'll enjoy your company. It has been an honour to have spent time growing up with you guys. I'm proud of all your achievements, and look forward for more.

The Wind Rises Electric

Finally, I can stay up all night and not sleep till much later today.

Most of my night was spent on the phone.

I talked to a girl - an old friend - and then to a collaborator, and finally with a guy I used to work with.

I was his supervisor at Astro, and it was really refreshing to see how this guy has grown. Not in size, but in maturity. He's more relaxed now. More settled. And definitely a pleasure to work with.

We talked about shit, caught up - he got married recently and regaled me with tales of woe and how my advice was wrong.

When he told me he was getting married around a year ago, I advised him that he would need at least RM20K for a simple event. I was way off. What was budgeted for that ballooned into an inflated figure.

Credit to the guy, he managed to pull it off and from what I heard, it was a resounding success.

In comparison, I had little to tell him about my life. I just got over my funk and experienced rebirth, yadda yadda yadda. Spiritual concepts which are quite boring, actually.

I got no drama, and I'm not complaining about that. The past is the past, and the future is not mine to decide. My moment, the one I need to own, is now.

Right now, I'm doing some production shit. Some proposals. Hopefully, two or three would be picked up, and I can pay my debts and my father's medical bills.

Life has become routine, actually.

Which is good. I can focus on the next stage. I'm sure there would be more little problems I need to solve.

Little puzzles here and there. Not big ones. Just some stuff. I spent my whole life with puzzles and now, the thing I need to crack, is this next show.

Well, I'll see you after I do another one.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Flash Sideways

Today, was the day I went into third gear.

There were some parts of work I held off for a few weeks, which I completed today. I took the motherfucking things, right, and I FUCKING DID IT.

Scratch one off my bucket list.

Shit came in, shit came out. I was like a motherfucking machine. I enjoyed it. Laughed as the wind from the air-conditioner blew through my hair and the flourescent light burned a tan on my skin.

I am not yet at 100%, but it sure is nice to be able to cruise at familiar speeds.

My brain worked at optimal levels. My Buddha nature and my Atman and immortal soul as content as a Hindu cow.

I was immortal. Unreacheable. Invulnerable. Unconquerable. I was lightning made flesh. A shark trawling for prawn. The alpha and the omega, as I claimed my divine birthright.

Pretty grandiose depiction for answering emails, right?

I told the story about my being in a funk to almost everyone. I made sure I repeated it until the words were stale on my tongue.

I do not plan to repeat it ever again.

Basically, after a year of struggle, I feel immortal. Now, to bring that to other stuff.


We interrupt my precious sleep to bring you this fast-breaking news story.

The past two weeks, something has been bothering me, and I couldn't put my finger on it. It was driving me nuts. And last night, I was in the first funk I had in two years. Because I couldn't figure it out.

It wasn't any one thing, as nothing can touch me nowadays, unless I allow it. Nothing.

This feeling came, as things start to come together in my life. I have a job I enjoy, working with people I have fun with. Finally, past baggage can be shed, and the company and the people are poised to move forward, wherever that may take us.

I get involved with exciting creative projects that stimulate my hyperactive mind, making an even bigger name for myself, and while that is not my goal or desire, it is an accomplishment that took me many endless days and weeks and months and years to complete.

I have people who have my back. I have those I can consider true friends, and even those I condemned to the deepest pits of hell, I have forgiven.

Yes, I have my debts to pay, and I still haven't quit smoking or lost enough weight, but those things will come with time.

And yet, for almost two weeks, I was just... disturbed. I was not happy. Everything is going fine, and I just, couldn't snap out of this stupid funk.

I tried many things, before I realised that it was not two weeks. This thing has been happening for the past few years. It has lead me to this.

All of it. All my breakthroughs. My discovering my own brand of spirituality and philosophy. The lessons learned. The bloodied nose and broken bones and the stabbings on my back. The knowledge and information and experience I have accumulated.

It was like giving birth, or emerging out of a coccoon. I mean, I knew the thought processes. I know. But knowing is different than realising. And the thing that brings you from knowledge to realisation is experience. That was the missing component. That was the dilation of the vagina. That was me going through the breach.

I was unsettled, because after months of focusing on things and other people, I finally had a breather, some time to focus on myself. Not the ego self, but the real self.

I mean, work just became routine recently, and I just learned to settle down and see a flow happening. For once, in my hectic life, I had the luxury to stop, look and listen. To myself.

I was in a funk not because of any thing, but because everything just came together in my head, and it was going out. Man, this took a lot of time. And a lot of wanking. Both literally and figuratively.

Just now, lying in bed, unable to sleep, I asked myself some really serious questions. I got my answer - answers that are right for me. And then? Nothing. There was just blissful emptiness.

I was not plagued by a sense of impending doom. No simulations and projections of the future. No past mistakes to live through again and again. I was just existing. Breathing.

I was... okay. There is no word for it. It wasn't me or a voice in my head telling me I'm okay. I was just... okay.

And suddenly, there was a welling up of joy. I felt like I needed to express it in some way, so I got up and wrote this.

I don't know what it means. Maybe I am manic depressive. I don't really care. I'm just enjoying it.


Covering entertainment, and also producing entertainment, nothing is really entertaining to me. Every time I see a movie or TV show, it's work. I used to go to Thailand for entertainment, but I have no money now, so that's a no-go.

I entertain myself with other people's sufferings, trying to teach them the way to happiness. When that dries up, and if I am ever successful in showing people how to be happy, I am out of miserable people.

And if I talk to really, REALLY miserable people, I get my energy sucked off. So I am really running dry on ways to amuse myself that doesn't involve porn, and lubricants.

I used to enjoy shocking people, but that train has run its course. Nothing I do nowadays can really shock anyone. Except, maybe embrace religion or be a self-proclaimed liberal or something like that.

I'm beginning to learn or perhaps teach myself to enjoy watching things and people grow. Fuck, man. I am beginning to sound like my father.

I am getting old. Boo fucking hoo. Big fucking deal.

Maybe I should just spend tomorrow night at a pub... and read the papers.

Working With Editors

My arch-nemesis Danny Lim messaged me the other day.

Danny Lim: Dude, you wanna write for the World Cu thingy? (He's the editor for the small website)

I was like, fuck you, man. In my head. This fucker Danny Lim, right, he WAS a friend. And then he just like, upped and left and went to London without saying goodbye.

I was like, "Hope you choke on fish and chips, motherfucker! And then get run over by a black cab AND a double decker bus with the Spice Girls pictures on the side, driven by one of those guards with the tall furry hat. And you die, while wearing UK undies."

I actually knew of the project, though, and found it interesting. It's about using the World Cup as an excuse to wank. I'm all for wanking. So I said yes, even though I loathed Danny Lim to the core of my being.

FIRST RULE OF JOURNALISM: You must always, always hate your editor. YOU do all the work, and the fucker just cuts it, right? Well, goddamnit, you must give shit that will NOT be altered in any way. Then, you win. As the editor has acknowledged the size of your bulbous intellect and lay prostate (while checking his prostates) before the greatness of your prose.

So anyway, the project is interesting, but I see that he has amassed an army of intellectuals and intelligentsia for the project. People like Kubhaer T Jethwani - one of the great intellectuals of our time. I'm no fucking intellectual. Ayn Rand who?

I will NOT be drawn into their Kafka-esque, Objectivist, Gonzo bullshit. Imma be my own man! So I will NOT read anything from the site to avoid my sacred prose from being influenced.

So I was reading Anthony Bourdain's Medium Raw and was just blown away by the man's work. This chef can write! His style is that he starts with a title or a theme, a topic, right, and then he talks about anything but the topic, rambles on and on and on. And on. And just talks about it in another part of the book.

So I did a stream of consciousness shit which was like, oh-so-cool.

Danny Lim contacted me and said it's too football-y or some shit.

I was like, fuck.

So I gave him another piece which had no football at all. It was an article about new media vs old media, in relation to underdog tag and the cyclic nature of things rather than black and white. It was intellectual.

And he said no.

What now?

So I chatted with him for about half an hour. Mostly bullshit, about why he left and why he's so lansi and shit. Blablabla, until he commented about something I said.

"Maybe you should write something like that."

Well, okay.

I said to give me half an hour. He was like, "Oh, I don't want to impose on you or some shit"

SO I knocked off a wanking piece in 20 minutes, under the influence of benadryl, and sent it to him. It was similar to my blog style circa 2005. Always thought it was garbage.

Well, he liked it. Or rather, he didn't hate it like the other two pieces. And so he published it.

Click Here for the article.

He was like, dunno what, dunno what, blablabla.

I said, "Dude, you're the editor in this one. My job is to get you something you can use."

Which is true. Flavour, angle, context, is all the editor's fault. Danny, for all his flaws and general intellectualness which I find repulsive, did the right thing when he pushed for the stuff he wanted, not settling for the extremely well-crafted crap I sent him earlier. My other shit would have belonged elsewhere, but not for his project.

It was a good experience, and I managed to shock and awe some new readers that I decided to request to do another piece for World Cup. Which is this next game I am watching.

"Aren't you glad I asked you to change the story?" asked Danny.

I hope you choke on your black pudding and kidney pie! And don't forget the Ploughman's!

But yes, Danny is a good editor.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Journalist Paranoid

Oh no. I'm not asleep. Benadryl effects wearing off. And I just popped in a hard candy.

A Halls hard candy would take like, half an hour at least to melt in my mouth, and I don't want to go to sleep with a Halls candy in my mouth.

Fuck, man. If I fall asleep with a Halls candy in my mouth, I would have cavities. And caries! Umm... what's the difference?

Why does, giant big plastic placards on dentists' walls say that bacteria in the mouth, when they meet sugar, becomes acid?

I don't get it. Bacteria + sugar = acid?

What kind of fucked up college did the dentist go to, to have put the bloody fucking poster up there?

Education is overrated.

Ah, fuck it. I downed the entire bottle of benadryl. I tossed the candy from my mouth. Gargle. And now, sleep attempt number three.

Tales from the Drugged Up Side

I don't have cigarettes. I can't sleep. Benadryl, do the trick!

C'mon! You all everybody!

Drive Shaft!

I discovered that some personalities I respond to with energy, mirth, humour and fun. Some people, are just bottomless pits of despair. Energy suckers. Mope around, are spiteful not because it's funny, but because they are just bleak people.

Even writing about them gives me a yucky feeling on my fingers.

Fuck 'em all.

I only focus on good shit. Good people. Good conversations. Why should I spend my limited time and energy on anything other than what I enjoy? On people I enjoy?

Awareness is fun. Most people are blind. I tried to get them to wake up, but they didn't. So sorry. I couldn't do it. Beyond me. And ultimately not my fucking responsibility.

People who are aware and awake are much more fun. Idiots are only to be made fun of, and only fun to be laughed at.

I don't know, you know?

Cigarettes. None.



The Great Escape

Just a minute ago, I was so much in a funk that I decided to write it in a blog post.

Having posted it, I was suddenly re-energised and I got my mojo back.

Which goes to show that I am possibly manic-depressive, to some degree. That, or the copious amount of cough syrup I ingested.

Anyway, funk, pain, hatred, spite, anger, love, all these emotions are fleeting and they never last.

Have it, feel it, and let it go. Be okay with it.

I'm fine now, and feeling a bit silly for being dramatic five minutes ago. But that's how I am, sometimes. Dramatic. Theatrical. Enough for some people to mistake me as a Homer-sexual.

I am not a Homer-sexual.

Got nothing against it, but I'm just not it.

--45 minutes later--

ANyway, I was just called up by somebody I'm working with to do some TV shows. Some cool ideas. Don't know if it'll work, but I'll try tomorrow.

Tonight, I just want to sleep after this.


Funkabilly Rock

For some reason, I am in a funk.

I don't know why. Things are going great in some parts of my life. My sex life, for example, has never been better. Work is starting to make more sense to me than it did a year ago, when I felt lost and at sea.

As in, previously, on Lost. That kind of shit.

On the personal front, I got rid of the last remnants of my ambition early last year. Without desire, I have no hunger.

Some interesting projects have cropped up. TV. Movies. Whatever. Those are all 50-50 stuff. Some get made, some don't. Obladi, oblada.

I am happier than I was a year, or two years ago. And yet, there is something that is bothering me right now. Like an itch inside my throat which I cannot scratch.

Maybe it's the no smoking again. I mis the nicotine, but simply isolating myself from cigarettes is doing the trick. No oppportunity means no ciggies.

Maybe, maybe I miss the days when I was emotional and would simply express my feelings without bounds. Anger. Love. Hatred. Pure and all-destroying.

Nowadays, I am acutely aware of the effect I have on people. I am most bothered when some people I care about get affected by me. I mean, I can take care of myself. I can take whatever I say and do and feel, and by the end of the day, I can be at peace with me.

The only time when I was in a similar funk, was when people get affected by how I am. It's not comfortable. Affecting people means being responsible for the effect. Good or bad doesn't matter. It's a responsibility.

While I know I am not the center of the universe, I realise that I do have influence over people, and that just pisses me off, sometimes.

I believe in freedom and independence, and part of that independence is independence from me. I believe that everyone should be independent from everyone else.

I don't know, man.

My existence deforms the universe. That's responsibility - Delirium.

If I share my pain and my worries with girls, they would suck my dick right now. Unfortunately, I am not a worshipper of pain.

I don't even believe in pain.

Oh well. Maybe I'm just addicted to fast food. Gonna order some now. Cheers!

Monday, June 21, 2010

Intermission: Nothing

I went home today, and I have absolutely nothing to write about.

I don't have anything to complain about. I mean, I'm not good, financially, my health is not that great and my parents are getting older. Work is work. Friends are friends. Girls are girls.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

But that's the way things go. I have absolutely nothing interesting to tell anyone or any of you for that matter.

I'm not opinionated about anything, and politics online is getting too stale even for me to make fun of.

Twitter is boring and filled with garbage, albeit in (endless stream of) small packages. Facebook is feeling like Friendster. Blogs are now like Diaryland. It's been a long time since I read an exciting new blog.

And so with great regret, that aside from games like Airline Manager on Facebook, and following the WOrld Cup via Gamecasts from Soccernet and Fifa.com, as well as making fun of fans of teams that lose, I must report that tonight is pretty boring indeed.

Whirl Carp: Fuck the Favourites

Fuck the favourites! France is 99.99% dead. England is 80% dead. Italy is 60% dead.

Die! Die! Die! Motherfuckers!

I hope none of the favourites make it to the finals of this World Cup. Let it be... I dunno, New Zealand Vs Ivory Coast or some shit like that. Or Korea Vs Japan. Whatever, man.

Am fucking tired of football being the monopoly of a select few. You want democracy? You need to let the other guys win.

People who root for the favourites - any of the favourites - are fascist bastards, ESPECIALLY if they call themselves fucking liberals.

See what being a liberal gets you? You can't cheer for any 'good' team. Otherwise, you're a fucking hypocrite. So fuck you, liberals!

Closing Time

There are lots of things to be said, but some things can only be experienced.

So. I'm stepping aside, allowing some to trip over themselves and bloody their noses. Because if one thing I have learned, some people need to bleed to know they're alive.

Well, clean yourself up. I'm closing up soon.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Father's Day

I am against the basic family model. I believe that the family unit as it stands, especially in Malaysia, is victimising everyone in it. It is cruel, stupid and nonsensical. This is my belief.

However, I understand that it is there. Along with all the other stupid abuse and misuse of the system which makes it extremely unreliable. Parents having kids as an insurance policy, having kids as a way to compete with other people, et cetera.

The traumatised kids, the abused wife, the bankrupt husband. The holy trinity of the evil of family.

Again, this is only my personal opinion. Given the option, I would have chosen to have not been born, as my parents couldn't and can't afford kids. But they did, and here I am. Under protest, but not whining. This is where I am and this is how I deal.

A few years back, I gave up on some dreams and decided to try and do stuff for my parents. I do not believe they are in any capacity to understand what this means, just as it is beyond my capacity to understand how they thought that RM1K++ a month is enough for four kids and two adults.

So anyway, before I sound too bitter - and I am not, just realistic - I raise a toast to fathers everywhere, as well as a prayer that I may never be one of you great people.

To fathers, then!

Saturday, June 19, 2010

While I was Phlegming

I got back to work this week, after a week filled with drama from my flu. I rarely get sick nowadays, so I ham it up when I do.

So I came back to work, to find the system we helped started is working. So that's cool.

I checked in with some production houses I'm working with, and frankly, I don't know when we will ever see any money. Most of the cost is on me, as I spend time, energy, creativity and my health as well as my sanity on projects that may or may never see the light of day.

Well, we shall see. Doing production in Malaysia is like buying a lottery ticket with a very small prize. You get excited when you hit the paydirt, and then you find that it's mostly dirt and not enough pay.

My finances are shot to shit. I more often than not find myself making decisions between - "Either I spend this money on booze and hookers, or in saving my father's eyesight."

It is that dramatic.

Though I must say, the old man is part tree. Lots of doctors predict his death in the next few days after meeting him, and he's still smoking four packs a day and cutting down trees and shit.

They test him and they probe him and they scratch their heads. Recently, one doctor I think was confident that the old man has busted his kidneys and is about to die. They tested him, and his kidneys were fine.

When it's my time, I just want to get a morphine overdose. God, just let me die instantaneously.

Though I must say, I have never feared death. I'm afraid of pain, but never death. Death is like a long-overdue vacation.

Sometimes, I do wonder what it feels like to be idiots like you. I guess I'll find out, when I die and have my entire btain shut down.

Friday, June 18, 2010


I was trying to think of something smart to write, but I couldn't think of any. So, here goes, whatever this is.

BlackBolt said, Relax.

Optimus Prime said Transform. And roll out.

StarScream said Combaticons! Transform and merge to become Brutucus!

Megatron said, "Prepare to receive!"

And Soundwave said, "Laserbeak, Eject!"

There. Wisdom of the '80s.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

House of M: How to Save Newspapers

A great read. Especially for people who are lookiong at saving newspapers and journalism.

By the way, I found that on a Facebook link a colleague put up.

Nowadays, I wake up, and I don't pick up a newspaper anymore. I go online, on Facebook, and see first what news matters to people. I used to monitor Twitter, until I deleted my account yesterday when I got tired of poiliticians and politician-wannabes whining and bitching all the time.

I read newspapers at the end of the day, sometimes in a pub, sometimes at home.

If you've read my House of M series of drunken blog posts, you would know what my answers are for the rejuvenation or rebirth of newspapering. It's simple - bridging the virtual and the real.

Whether anyone will take my solution and implement it remains to be seen. I'm willing to sell the solution for RM3 million. Anyone interested?

As for me, I have prepared myself for any eventuality. Say, 20 years from now, the last professional journalism watering hole gets closed down due to all news agencies closing down, I'll call a cab and go back home to write a movie script.

I have been taught that all the skills in journalism can be applied to any other discipline. Even stuff like dancing, though I must say I am an extremely dangerous salsa dancer, having been banned in some countries due to grievous bodily injuries and mass destruction of property I have caused while shashaying to the music.

I can also do a demonic cult thing where I can siphon money off religious and spiritual people.

Oh, I'm sorry. I need to go and save newspapers now.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Things I Think About When I Meet People

These are things that go on in my head when I meet people for the first time.

1. Man, she reminds me of sanitary pads.

2. How do you shit with waist-long hair?

3. With a stomach that big, can his hand reach his anus? How many years since he last saw his dick?

4. God created deodorants for a REASON!

5. How did your father fuck the wrong mammal?

6. Oh. My. Science! I can feeeel the stupid oozing off your pores!

7. When is a good time for me to fart?

8. What is a good reason for farting?

9. Do I need to masturbate tonight?

10. Man, I wanna watch Glee again.

11. How do I shave my ass?

12. Does sitting in this chair give me the most wind from these ceiling fans?

13. Man, I wish I am at home, sleeping.

Commedia dell'arte

Well, it's a comedy! Laugh! Ha-ha! Clap-clap!

Monday, June 14, 2010

Panduan Hidup Bujang: Jawapan Persoalan Mutlak

Mentang-mentang la aku hidup bujang, ramai la pembiak-pembiak yang tanya aku bila nak kahwin la, bila nak beranak la. Seolah-olah satu-satunya tujuan aku hidup dalam dunia adalah untuk menyamar virus.

Di sini, aku senaraikan jawapan-jawapan yang aku dapati mustajab dalam menangani soalan-soalan daripada pukimak-pukimak tersebut.

1. Kalau member sama baya umur tanya, "Ko bila nak kahwin?"

Jawapan: Ko bila nak cerai?

Kawan: Eh, apasal?

Jawapan: Aku stim kat bini ko la. Rupa macam lembu campur babi.

2. Kalau makcik gatal tanya, "Ko bila nak kahwin?"

Jawapan: Apasal biji kelentit makcik gatal sangat?

Makcik Gatal Biji Kelentit: Apa kau kata?

Jawapan: BIJI KELENTIT MAKCIK! APA PASAL! GATAL?! Ya Allah, pekak dah orang tua ni.

Semua jenis keadaan boleh diselesaokan dengan dua jenis jawapan di atas. Sekian. AKu masih demam, nak minum ubat batuk.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Perkahwinan Syaitan

Aku tengah berak, pukul 10 malam, bila berbunyi telefon. Menyampah betul aku kalau telefon berbunyi masa aku tengah berak. Lagipun, aku tengah demam ni.

Dengan penuh perasaan dendam kesumat, aku basuh berak dan mendapati ada missed call daripada seorang kawan aku.

Aku pun call dia balik.

Aku: Ha, apahal?

Kawan: Kau kat mana ni?

Aku: Aku dalam rumah la. AKu tengah demam ni semput sikit. Takleh cakap lelama.

Kawan: Weh, ko kenal mana-mana peguam syariah tak?

Aku: Apasal, ko nak bercerai ke?

Kawan: Bukan aku... adala blablabla. Dia nak hak jagaan anak dia.

Aku: Ooo, macam itu ka? Jadi blablablabla.

Kawan: Peguam syariah seorang berapa nak ambik?

Aku: Mahal nak mampus. Camnilah, malas aku nak cakap kat fon. Aku sakit ni. Ko datang je lah rumah.

Kawan: Ko sakit apa ni?


Aku pun letak je telefon.

Bila masa pulak aku jadi tempat aduan kes kahwin-cerai ni? Ini adalah pasangan ke-empat yang nak bercerai, pastu cari aku.

Aku dah cakap, kalau takde duit melebihi sejuta, tak cukup matang kepala hotak atau memang bodoh, toksahnya kahwin. Ni, dah kahwin, menyusahkan aku. Kalau menyusahkan orang takpe, ni menyusahkan aku, tau tak?

Lain kali, toksah kahwin. Main pelacur je. Duit selamat, hati aman. PAHAM? AKu pun boleh berak dan layan demam dengan tenteram.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

All Lucky Seven Fever

I woke up coughing orange, green, brown and white phlegm. Must be World Cup South Africa. Bafana Bafana!

It has been over a year since I was sick, as I checked my medical records.

So I called up my insurance thing cause I wanted to go to UH for H1N1 screening. They said my panel is Pantai Medical, so I went to the Bangsar branch.

I got charged RM227. Apparently, the insurance only covers pay and claim instead of just charging to the thing, which doesn't make sense, unless the insurance company is trying to make money by delaying payment of claims.

Anyway, the most expensive item is the antibiotic cefuroxime, under the brand Zinnat, manufactured by GSK. It treats upper and lower respiratory tract infections as well as gonorrhea, and it costs RM150 for a five day course.

I was also given Mucosolvan and benadryl, which I already have. The pharmacist also gave me ibuprofen, saying it's flu medication. IT IS NOT FLU MEDICATION. Ibuprofen is a muscle relaxant or a painkiller.

Oh well. I didn't have the energy to correct people today, and by leaving them stupid, that is my most potent revenge.

I was told to stay at home for 48 hours. If the flu doesn't go away, I'm supposed to go and get a full check-up, including chest x-rays and a blood test to see if anything like H1N1 is involved.

Being sick, I am angrier. Especially since Malaysia is not taxing rich fuckers 90% of their income.

I believe that the top 10% of Malaysians, who own, like 200% of everything, be taxed 90% of their earnings.

How much longer will we poor people stand to be robbed everyday, by those rich fuckers? It is time to rise and rob those rich fuckers.

I mean, why not? We will NEVER, EVER, be in the top 10% who gets 200% of everything. We should kill them, and spread the wealth amongst ourselves.

Benadryl taking effect. Sleep.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Buddha the Barbarian: Lord of Destruction

They forget that I am still the Lord of Destruction. With my Buddha powers, it only means that I have no remorse or guilt. If people die, then they just die. No mourning.

Open the gates. Lucifer is stepping out.

Delirium Notatum: GOTO Hell

I slept a feverish sleep where I dreamed I got better. It was a bit crazy, because the dream had a version of me waking up to a margarine ad from the '70s.

Apparently, that's what my brain considers as being healthy.

Being sick also makes me appreciate solitude even more. It means that the world can do without me, and I can deal WITHOUT people's bullshit shoved down my throat everyday.

Maybe that's why I have a sore throat and got sick. I am sick of all your bullshit. Games. Lies. Politics. Fuck you.

Oh well. I do not give a flying fuck.

Only thing that matters is my own shit. I got stuff to do. My work is important to me. I need to deal with my finances, with my family on my back. Not having my back. ON my back. And Thailand.

Thailand has been good to me, and I need to help rebuild its economy, after I rebuild mine.

I don't think I'll wait till SUnday. If I'm still sick tomorrow, I'll go for an H1N1 screening immediately.

Thursday Morning Fever

I woke up to a sore throat and a mild fever. Haven't been sick in a while. The last time I had a real fever was last year, I think.

I was a sickly child, suffering almost one cold, fever or flu a week. So, it is hard for me to fall sick, nowadays.

I hope it's not H1N1. Some people wanted to come over, but I told them to go. I might be infecting them.

If it is H1N1, then I am up for a month's bed rest, though with the Internet, I can still work from home. Or I'll get my laptop to the hospital and work from there.

Already bought the usual package. Benadryl, cartons of orange juice and some medication.

If I'm not cured by SUnday, I'm going to get an H1N1 screening.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Stress-Management: Perfect Ending to a Tiring Day

My life is like a movie, inside my head.

I woke up yesterday, to a phone call with all the bad news in the world.

In my grogginess, I made some other phone calls.

Half asleep, I took a shower and prepared for work.

Work, work, work.

Meanwhile, in Kuantan, my father was sent for blood tests. The doctors predicted months ago that his kidneys would be having some problems, which could spell his death. And I was getting an up-to-tyhe-minute report from my family, via Blackberry Messenger.

It was gripping stuff.

"We're wheeling him in now."

"We're sitting down and drinking mineral water."

We listyen to doctors because they're experts, right?

Then again, my father was diagnosed in 1980 for cardiac infarction and was told that he had between six months to five years to live.

Here he is today, 30 years later, still chopping down trees. I am thankful for every day that my father is still alive, but my confidence in doctors as well as 'expert opinion' has eroded dramatically.

One year it's eat fatty foods, as long as you don't take carbs. The next, it's fuck the fat, eat more carbs for energy.

So anyway, as I was running after a story, waiting for information that never came, sending over 100 e-mails, countless BBM messages, cursing at some idiots on Internet forums, reading wikipedia, preparing for Friday and all these other things, my mind was split in three.

I as thinking about the bad news call, and also about my father in the hospital.

All the while, getting updates from my family. I felt like I wanted to get a vacation in the middle of the work day.

I continued to do work, though, because that is the only thing I could do. Before I knew it, it was time to leave, and I also made an important decision as I left the building.

Oh, by the way, the nearby mamak restaurant now serves beef.

I got into a cab, and I went to a pub.

I met some old friends I haven't seen in six months or more. They're all doing okay, and I find it funny that some people never change. Actually, no one changes.

A Malaysian hero was also there, and soon, because it was more interesting, I went with a few of them to eat teochew porridge somewhere in town.

I have always loved teochew porridge. My mother cooked teochew porridge almost every week, at one point.

Great conversation, and for the first time that day, I didn't need to talk at all. I am tired of talking, really. I just want to do shit. I don't even know why I keep this blog anymore.

So, it was a break, to just shut up and listen. Great stuff.

And then I went home, and talked to someone over the phone, and finally, called a girl up. It's always nice to go to sleep when the last person you talk to has a pussy.

And with that, I end my long day, having done some stupid things, grew to be a bit wiser perhaps, listened to fantastic tales, ate some good teochew porridge and met some good, fun people. Also, my father's blood tests revealed that his kidneys and all his organs are okay, as far as blood tests can determine.

I think my father is half tree.

Reality: 1. Experts: 0.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

STICKY: The Secret to Happiness

I am setting up a training to teach people about achieving happiness. RM10,000 per head. Three day course. 50% deposit. Guaranteed no worse than any other stupid corporate training out there. We also have mahjong paper! And markers!

And... a Powerpoint presentation! Ooooooooooh!

Hey, c'mon, man. Some companies paid RM1 million for some Mexican dude to give talks. At least I have mahjong paper!

Email me at amirhafizi@gmail.com. Nothing is refundable.

The Adventures of Boron - The World's Most Boring Man

I left the office at around 2am today, and asked the colleague kind enough to give me a lift, to stop at a petrol station, so I can get my packs of cigarettes for tonight and tomorrow.

There was a woman at the counter. She's of Indian descent. I didn't ask for her IC or passport to determine whether she's Malaysian or not.

She wore, on her face, a look of fear. As if she was a rabbit that was just chased by a fox and barely managed to get into her hole in time. I recognise that look, and the emotion it most probably stems from. Insecurity.

"Marlboro Menthol Lights," I said, motioning to the cigarette shelf, through the glass case separating myself and the store.

She gave me a pack of Marlboro Lights.

Me: No. This is Marlboro Lights. I want Marlboro Menthol Lights.

She: Oh, Marlboro Menthol.

And she gave me a pack of Marlboro Menthols.

Me: No. No. It's okay. Nevermind.

I was thinking of convincing my colleague to stop at 7 Eleven so I can get my Marlboro Menthol Lights. I felt my pockets, and the almost-empty pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights was there.

I don't know why, but I fished it out and showed it to her.

Me: This one. This is Marlboro Menthol Lights and you don't have it -

Before I could finish, she fished out a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights triumphantly and held it to me.

Me: Ah, yes.

The woman displayed much joy at this. She rang up the cash register with pride, thinking perhaps that she is indeed good at her job.

I mean, she could have had a hard life, and that job at the petrol station was probably the only thing she could do. Maybe she has three kids at home, and an abusive husband. Who knows?

I am smoking those cigarettes now, as I type.

I inhale and I think about all those people, desperate for jobs. For money. Desperate. Devoid of hope, much less desire. And I count and thank my lucky stars that I have been blessed with such good fortune that I do not have to scramble at the whims of a customer looking for a pack of cigarettes.

Many would not understand, or be thankful of what they already have. They have been conditioned as such to whine and complain about everything, as if doing so would get them the things they think they need.

Well, good luck to you.

Petty squabbles, and pettiness in general. Ruinous ambition. Poisonous Desire.

And now, I do not know how to end this.

I might go on with recollections when I worked as a cashier at a pharmacy, working with supermarket lifers - those who would spend their entire lives working at supermarkets.

Or how I was turned away from working at Dome, San Francisco Coffee and even KFC for being overqualified. I mean, I went to walk-in interviews at these outlets, speaking English braying about my dreams of writing comics. No wonder the managers immediately felt insecure.

Is it any wonder, that the manager for the pharmacy I worked at sought to get me to quit, because she felt threatened. She was and perhaps still is an idiot. If I wanted her position, nothing could have stood in my way.

But my dream was not to be the manager of a pharmacy, or to run a supermarket. I wanted and still want to write, and get paid for it. And there are so many things to write. Articles. TV series. Books. Movies. Many, many, many things.

I guess I am blessed that I now possess the skills I pretended to have. And that I am no longer the woman behind the counter, groping for a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights which I know not what it looks like.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

The Center

I am the World's Most Arrogant Man. If I know anything in life, it would be arrogance. I am an expert, trust me.

The seed of arrogance is an over-inflated sense of self. In other words, a big presence of the ego.

When you start believing that you are the only thing that is real, and that your concerns are the only concerns that exist, that whatever you say or do is the center of everyone's universe, that if you like or dislike something will determine the outcome of some things.

This is all an inflation of the ego. Only when you realise that your 'self' does not matter, can you be free.

Jesus said, 'deny thyself'. 'Blessed are the poor in spirit'. Poor in spirit? How? Well, the rich in spirit are those with huge egos, as I see it. The meek shall inherit the earth.

Islam has a concept of 'surrender' in its very own name ('Islam' means surrender. To what, terrorists? No, but to the will of God).

Buddha teaches that suffering is caused by greed and lust - desire - which in turn stems from an erroneous understanding that things are not connected. That we are isolated from everything else. From everyone else.

This is the seed for unnecessary competition, a desire to be SEEN as right, to destroy other people (which never really gets accomplished because destroying other people is also destroying yourself) and lots of other difficult stuff.

Desire is always poisonous.

I cast off my ambitions a long time ago. Still, some of my projects were judged to be ambitious. But, no, not really. If you are honest with yourself on what you could do, without wishing for the impossible, you can accomplish many things. And you could be happy, if you allow yourself.

You don't even have to be honest with other people. Just with yourself. You know yourself - not the 'self' that you present to the world, which is just an image as well as your ego, but the real you.

And how do you find yourself?


When you realise that you are NOT the center of the universe, that's a start. When you realise that everyone and everything is connected, that's another step. When you figure out that you ARE the universe, than you have finally figured things out.

And after that? There is nothing. That sensation after great sex, when you don't see anything but white static and your ears are ringing? Your very soul feels like it's been wrapped in cotton wool. Trancendence. Nirvana.



I am here, right now, because of patience. Not my own, I'm sorry to add.

My teachers and leaders all had been patient with me.

I was young, once, and I guess I still am. My instincts are to crush. Destroy.


It took a very wise man to say to me, "This is a marathon, not a dash. Pace yourself."

And of course, I didn't listen. I was too impatient, willing to do everything, if I could. If other people didn't want to do it, then I would. And that's how I found myself lying on a bed, hospitalised for stress-related complications. My blood-pressure was 150 over some obscene number.

As I watched Totally Spies on the TV set on top of my hospital bed, my mind began to produce philosophical antibodies.

Pushing myself, showed me my limits. And though I can do an extreme amount of work, my energy is not infinite. That's why humans work in teams.

Working in teams, means having trust.

THAT, was extremely difficult for me. I was betrayed and let down by so many people that if the proverbial backstabbing were real, there is no space for knives or spears on my back. I would look like a hedgehog.

Trust, and patience. Which together equals faith.

Patience was a hard nut to crack. Waiting for the moment to strike. So, I turned to Lucifer. The DC Comics Lucifer.

Mike Carey's Lucifer is extremely successful in his universe because he took the time to observe, listen, and strike only when it is necessary.

For a being of unlimited power in the universe, second only to Yahweh(God), I found his restraint to be his greatest strength. Because the light of the sun is simply warm. Focus it, and it can start a fire.

Trust. Patience. Focus.

Patience also opens windows to see the big picture. All our situations are the accumulation of smaller situations that asked us to make small decisions. The accumulation of that makes for even bigger decisions.

I find that if you focus on getting the small things done properly, you wouldn't notice it when big things come along.

Many people do not understand this. They immediately want to do big things. People who just started singing, immediately want to perform at Carnegie Hall, in front of thousands.

Well, if you could achieve that on the first day, then great. But what about something that would ensure continuous opportunities to sing at Carnegie?

Longevity. Delayed gratification. Patience. Building something takes time. If you cook, or garden, you will understand patience and the importance of it.

Water shaped the Grand Canyon. Not a big tsunami, but merely moving water, perhaps as slow and gentle as a faucet.

I am not a very patient man. But I am patient with myself. One day, I will have enough patience, and I am in no rush. I trust myself.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Almanak Masakan Bumi dan Langit: Ayam Masak Merah Mengejutkan Serangga Dari Tidur Tapa

Dalam senarai hikmat-hikmat masakan aku, salah satu masakan terhebat adalah Ayam Masak Merah Mengejutkan Serangga Dari Tidur Tapa.

Walaupun penggunaan 'dari' dalam ayat di atas adalah salah ('dari' hanya digunakan dengan tempat fizikal - "Saya berasal dari Kuantan", "Saya berjalan dari Kuantan ke Kuala Lumpur." manakala 'daripada' adalah selain daripada itu - "Pistol ini diperbuat daripada kayu", "Saya lebih kuat daripada Yitzhak Rabin"), namun Ayam Masak Merah Mengejutkan Serangga Dari Tidur Tapa merupakan salah satu masakan yang telah aku sempurnakan dengan Kuasa Tahap Kesempurnaan.

Inilah bahan-bahannya:

1. Ayam. Biasanya seekor, dipotong lapan atau 16. Ayam yang dipotong kecil akan lebih cepat masak dan rasa dagingnya lebih menyerap rempah-ratus yang digunakan. Kalau seekor, agak sukar untuk memastikan segala macam perisa telah 'mesera', kata orang Pahang.

2. Cili merah besar segar - 10 ulas.

3. Cili kering - segenggam.

4. Bawang putih (garlic) - satu labu.

5. Bawang merah (shallots) - lima biji.

6. Bawang besar (onion) - satu biji.

7. Halia - 2cm.

8. Garam secukup rasa.

9. Daun kari - 30 helai (kecil) atau 15 helai (besar)

10. Serai - tiga batang.

Cara memasak:

Masukkan semua bahan (bukan 'semua bahan-bahan'. Kalau dah 'semua', tak payah nak 'bahan-bahan' lagi) ke dalam blender, kecuali daun kari, serai dan garam.

Blender sampai mati.

Tumis minyak dalam kuali. Masukkan bahan-bahan dalam blender tadi ke dalam kuali. Tumis kesemuanya sampai naik bau. Masukkan garam.

Masukkan air 500ml, atau lebih.

Masukkan ayam. Tak perlu tunggu air mendidih. Kacau.

Setelah air mendidih, masukkan serai dan daun kari. Kacau.

Dengan menggunakan Kuasa Tahap Kesempurnaan, pastikan semua perisa dan perasa bergaul sebati dengan ayam.

Ayam tidak digoreng terlebih dahulu, agar boleh menyerap perisa dalam pes yang disediakan. Kalau sudah digoreng, maka sel-sel ayam sudah keras dan tertutup, maka tidak boleh menyerap apa-apa lagi.

Kacau sampai masak.


Ayam masak merah yang terhebat adalah ayam masak merah yang bersebati dengan pes yang disediakan. Rasa ayam bersatu dengan pes merah menjadikan hidangan ini antara hidangan ayam terhebat.

Masaklah dengan semangat api membara.

Second Cumming

I woke up from a short nap and spoke to a potential partner. Always wanted somebody to handle the administration and management so I could just be creative.

Creative people shouldn't do accounting. Not because we're not smart enough, but we build worlds and bend reality. Numbers shouldn't be bent.

Now, I may have a group that can work with my own creative team. My team is one of the best in Malaysia that can tell any story and do any show.

All we need is creative control. I'm more excited about writing for TV and movies again than I was a few years ago. I know enough not to get too excited, but my tired body now has a new energy flowing in it. I know this can be done.

And this time, I'll co-produce everything. I want more say in things, so it could be done properly.

For now, all projects will be under wraps. When the time comes - IF it does - I'll share it with you here.

Violence Jack

I have been looking for this classic anime - Violence Jack. It is perhaps the most depraved, violent anime ever made by the legenedary Go Nagai.

Go Nagai created Mazinger Z, Getter Robo as well as Cutey Honey and Devilman.

Despite its name, Cutey Honey is soft-porn in its heyday. And Devilman was turned into a live-action film which is the worst ever made by mankind, beaten only by Aeon Flux, Blood Rayne Series and Sound of Thunder's special effects.

Meanwhile, Mazinger Z, Great Mazinger and Mazinkaiser are all landmark Super Robot series.

But Violence Jack, man, Violence Jack. After Cowboy Bebop, there is no reason to watch anime, or even to live.

Mankind was put on earth so that one day, we can do Cowboy Bebop. After that has been completed, there is no reason we should be alive anymore. Hence, World War III next week.

I need to find Violence Jack to see if there is any hope for mankind, post-Cowboy Bebop.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Suppaaaa Robotto!

Got a message from one of my friends who wants to kill itself. Oh well. At some point in our lives, people with healthy minds would want to kill themselves.

My moment was around six or seven years ago. I wanted to experiment on my limits. How much sadness, pain and humiliation I could withstand. How much stress.

I pushed myself until I was doing 300% of what I was capable of doing. I was going for three to six assignments a day. I wrote six stories a day on top of that, some of them over 2,000 words long. I was also writing a book and survived on two to three hours of sleep a day. Seven days a week.

There were times when I worked for more than 24 hours straight. Of my own volition. I needed to win. I needed to be number one.

I got so muddled, I made some of the biggest mistakes in my life during those times. Like I misspelled somebody's name and stuff like that.

The only thing that kept me going was Super Robot Spirits. Memories of anime. I pushed and I pushed until I puked blood. Literally. I was hospitalised for stress-related complications, where the doctors told me to drink beer.

No one visited, while I was at the hospital. It was then I realised that I was truly alone.

However, as one of my seniors put it, being alone and being lonely are two different things. Being alone, with four daily doses of morphine which forced me to sleep, was very good. I would love to be lying in bed, with four doses of morphine a day. In fact, I want to die of morphine overdose.

Being lonely, on the other hand, means that you should just kill yourself. If you don't enjoy your own company, then you should die.

I wasn't lonely. I was alone. And that was good. That was great.

See, whatever experience anyone has, it is to forward them to true awakening. And how I awakened.

Whenever I wake up from my morphine dreams, the only show on TV was Totally Spies. It was totally irrelevant. To my life or to my condition.

The bed, though, was nice. I thought a lot, on that bed. I realised that I am a vagabond. A barbarian. The wolf beneath the tree. And that nothing matters. Nothing is real. No one is real.

Everything is what we make of it. Suffering is stupid, because it creates nothing else but more suffering. Competition is stupid because it has no end, and no matter how good you think you are, there is always somebody better.

If you look for flaws, flaws are all you would find. Build from strength, not from weakness.

Then, I went to Thailand, many times, to understand. I tested my theories with the Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud.

What I discovered, works for me. It is my lesson. Not yours.

I finally understood what I was. I wasn't a super robot pilot. I AM the super robot.


Or something like that.

Cowok di Bawah, Cewek di Atas

Tajuk-tajuk filem/cerita lucah yang best:

Awek Melayu Beromen 6

Cowok di Bawah, Cewek di Atas

Azi Iparku

Kena Main 13 Lelaki

Mat Kongkek


Datin Lucah

Hmm... nanti balik kerja, aku tambah synopsisnya.

MV Rachel Corrie and Malaysian 'Liberals'

Today was fun, but I am quite worried. Amidst all the fun, meeting friendly faces and all, there was an undercurrent of concern.

I'm talking about MV Rachel Corrie. There are Malaysians on board, sure. I know one of them, personally.

I got really angry, for some reason, and as usual, I pick on easy targets like Malaysian 'liberals'.

That was a bit unfair, I must admit.

I mean, sure, the Malaysian 'liberals' are not real liberals. They're just a fake imitation. They fly the 'liberal' flag only when it is convenient for them.

They would do campaigns and vigils and become a loud and annoying voice only when it either concerns their political parties, or their economic matters.

For stuff like this? If it concerns Muslims? Nada. This is the same as those who ONLY get outraged at the Freedom Flotilla issue, and not atrocities commited elsewhere in the world. Like Darfour.

That is a given.

I mean, I shouldn't be too hard on Malaysian 'liberals' because they're selfish, pathetic specimens who have no capacity for real happiness. I JUDGE THEE!

I really should apologise to all Malaysian 'liberals'. I was merely trying to replace my worry with something exciting like making fun of hypocritical idiots.

I really should.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Spender Beruang

Ya. Spender Beruang.

Sleep Now in the Fire

Washington Times Editorial - Fuel for Terrorism

This editorial by Washington Times paints a picture of the Israeli Navy boarding the Freedom Flotilla only bearing "paintball guns, tasers, tear gas and other nonlethal weapons."

Oh, really? Then how did people die? Did Zohan kill them with non-lethal humous? I mean, in the hands of a Washington Times reporter, a paintball gun can kill a yak from 1.5km away.

The editorial calls the death of nine people on the ship as a 'fraud'.

Well, when nuclear warheads start flying everywhere, I guess Washington Times will also call that a fraud.

Washington Times: Cheap, imitation nuclear warheads! Done in sweatshops. Not branded like ours... which are also done in sweatshops but, still, the brand is everything.

How is it that when thousands of Palestinians get killed by bulldozers and bullets - real ones - in Gaza, those deaths are called frauds, but when one American or perhaps an Israeli were to die from eating too much Quarter-Pounder with Cheese - or Royale with Cheese - that's a fucking tragedy?

And when Sex and the City 2 faithfully portrayed the arrogance and disrespectful nature of Westerners, other Westerners are offended and called the filmmakers racists, when that is the truth. That IS how you behave.

Oh well. You want to revitalise the economy, right? So start a war already. Get Dick Cheney and whoever another fat Haliborange/Hallieberry contract or whatever. You can't end the American Empire with a whimper. It must go out with a bang.

See if I care. I already watched the ending for Lost. You guys cancelled Boston Legal. You got nothing I want.

Friday, June 4, 2010

The Further Adventures of Boron(Word's Most Boring Man): I, Millenium Falcon

I have been wearing the same pair of sneakers for two years now. The soles are worn.

So I got myself a new pair today. The last one was a RM49.99 Power (Bata), so I went for a RM59.99 Power this time around. And spent RM40 on Power socks (at RM10 a pop).

I currently only have two pairs of decent socks - both Power. The rest are all torn. Same with my underwear. A lot are torn from containing my augustness. That, or I sit down too often and walk too fast, with long strides.

I was eyeing some RM20 shirts and some RM35 ones at FOS.

Since I'm naturally beautiful, I don't need fancy clothes.

Hole-y War

If the situation with the Freedom Flotilla escalates, we could be staring at World War III.

I'm not sensationalising anything. I'm sober as hell. Think about it. All those stupid exchanges of taunts and insults and small skirmishes in Iraq and Afghanistan are just promos for the main event.

Consider this: the best way to revive the stupid economy is to wage a war. A big one. And for some Muslim countries, they got nothing to lose. Their economy is shit. They don't have porn to placate them. Not a lot, maybe. No entertainment. No respect. No dignity.

You can only push people so much. Mutually assured destruction can look better than being bullied.

While the Jews fight the Muslims, China will shut up and lie low, hoping that they will be the ones to emerge as the world's super-power, even though they are now.

Unfortunately, this time, if there is a war, we might be looking at nuclear. If that's the case, it doesn't matter if China is in it or not. The fallout will kill all life in Southeast Asia and render it uninhabitable for the next 200 years.

China? Well, it depends on which way the wind blows. The right gust will kill their southern regions, at least.

IF there is a nuclear war soon, I put the death toll at a billion at the lowest estimate, and six billion at the worst.

Why? Because some people argue about details like who fucked who and who did what where, when, with whom, around 2000 years ago. But that's being shallow. The real reason is land, greed and hate.

I will not say yes, no, right, wrong or whatever. If the shit comes down, I'm going down fighting.

If it's Muslims vs the world, I will side with the Muslims. Why? Cause they're the underdogs. They have lousy PR, mostly stupid leaders who get fooled and tricked by Israelis on a daily basis. It's so pathetic, I need to balance things out.

My fitness sucks, so I can't be a foot soldier. But give me comm. Give me communications. Propaganda. Psych ops.

And then give me a few hundred rounds of ammunition and a light-fifty calibre sniper rifle, two Israeli-made Desert Eagle handguns, and one Israeli-made Corner-Shot. And soap. Lots of soap. I can distill enough nitro-glycerine to kill any platoon that come and get me. And they will get me. Hopefully, after I have taken down more than one.

However, if it's the Israelis vs the world, well, I guess I'll go to the office as usual.

Super Robot Spirit

Not many people understand what it means for me to be able to play Super Robot Wars Alpha and Alpha Gaiden.

I grew up poor. Am still not rich, but I now have the means to play Super Robot Wars - the ultimate computer game.

I first played Super Robot Wars 2, in 1998. I was in UM, and college was boring. I didn't hate it, because at least, I didn't have to watch my ass like in high school.

ALL the girls wanted to fuck the rich kids, which showed me how whore-like they are. I was not cool. I've never been cool. Some MCKK old dudes in college want to include me in their activities, because they see me as some sort of 'King of the Nerds' or some shit. I don't know. I was never a nerd. Just weird.

I come from SDAR, and SDARians, we never have any high ambitions. If we do, we immediately quash it with our laziness and disunity.

So the only thing available to me was Super Robot Wars 2.

I learned Japanese in high school - was very lazy, so I didn't get very good - and I spent all available time watching anime and researching them. So much so, that my final year thesis was an artificial intelligence system designed to teach anime literature.

So. SUper Robot Wars 2. On a fucking Gameboy. It was the cause of me failing a subject - organic chemistry - lengthening my matriculation by one semester.

By the year 2000 or thereabouts, I was asked to stay off-college, as all colleges in UM made way for girls. So I stayed at Pantai Hillpark. That was when I got my hands on Super Robot Wars Alpha - the best-selling PS1 game on Japan. OF ALL TIME.

After understanding the 'spirit commands' as well as normal kanji for move, attack, launch, heal, resupply and stats, I played that game for 10 years now.

I must have played it forwards and backwards over 20 times now. And yet, and yet, it was only this year that I managed to unlock the secret to SRX - FOUR ROBOT COMBINATION!

This unlocked the greatest attack in the game - an HTB blast that deals 7500 HP damage, which could go up to over 60,000 damage. In one attack, it even dealt over 150,000 damage to HP. One move kill, indeed.

After 10 years of playing. A FUCKING DECADE.

And yet no one can appreciate this accomplishment. I sacrificed time and even my formal education, for Super Robot Wars. I got all the songs. I read up on the series and the characters. Whenever possible, I bought the ORIGINAL DVDs of the cartoons.

To do what I have accomplished, would mean attaining the level of Super God Robot Master Custom Kai.

Alpha Gaiden was all about tactics and positioning. Using my triple motivate combo, I can get the ki-ryoku of eight robots and up to 40 pilots to a maximum of 150 - on the SECOND TURN! And if I use up ALL Donkey Buns and Window of Opportunity spirit command, it would have been on the FIRST turn.

None of you understands this, right? No one knows how difficult it was to calculate how to defeat Meigas, reducing her 71% HP in one strike plus one Assist robot.

No one understands my plans of upgrading speed - not movement - for ALL robots during the upgrade process.

Or why, using Map Weapons, I positioned certain robots in certain ways. Or the countless hours I spent making sure that the Option Parts were paired to the right robots, ensuring that at least, the slowest robot could move a minimum of 7 spaces. Plus Minovsky Drive, they can fly, too, rendering all terrain penalties void.

Why I never, EVER - until the final stage - use the top-ranked robots to fight - always using the second tier ones.

In the end, it's all a matter of positioning and timing. Knowing the limitations and strengths of all your robots.

Oh well. I'm gonna go play Yu-Gi-Oh now.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Betrayal. Lust. War

A dear friend just called, telling tales of betrayal. It was a story I have heard so many times before.

I was a character in some myself. Oh well. Water under the bridge. Nowadays, I just live my life the best I could. Whenever I am happy, some of them take that as a tiny slap to their face. Good.

I couldn't offer any words of comfort for my friend, because there is no comfort. There is pain. And so we respect the pain. We recognise it. And we let it go, when the time comes.

Fighting pain, makes pain more real. Stronger. Bigger. Makes its existence more profound.

I trust in the karmic balance. Not for bad things to happen to bad people, but simply a confidence and trust that things will work out as they would, regardless of anything.

People who have hurt other people, walk on a dark path. I have also been on that path. There is nothing there but sadness, suffering and misery.

Do you believe that fake people will ever find anything true? Evil people will find anything good?

If people can betray you, my friend, they can betray anyone. And other betrayers will in turn betray them. Is that a happy life? Well, good luck.

I'm not a superhero. I'm Buddha the Barbarian. Buddha CHOP!

Repent, Harlequin! Said the Tick-Tock Man

A lot of people say that they are a jinsei no seito - a 'student of life' - but they hardly know life's lessons when one passes them by.

In the past three years of my life, the most significant 'lesson' which I have experienced first-hand is that the world is in karmic balance.

I have witnessed it first-hand. What you do unto others, gets done unto you. It's not magic, and fuck the mechanics, but it's there.

People who act from spite, jealousy and hatred, eventually get crushed by even bigger spite, jealousy and hatred.

If you stay true to your code of honour, truth, beauty, freedom and love, that is all you would eventually find. There might be bumps along the way, and you might arrive at the destination a bit worse for wear, but hey - at least you didn't spend all that time wallowing in a pool of angst and self-pity.

If you ask me, this is the basis of my belief system. I make it a conscious effort that at the very least, any and all actions come from good energy. And as the Dungeon Master from the Dungeons and Dragons animation said, "Good and bad energy are just energy. Turn bad energy around, and it becomes good energy."

I'm not advocating false niceties, as that goes against truth, but I am talking about having a solid foundation when you act. In anything, a solid foundation in something is vital to ensure good quality in the finished product.

I have seen some performances, where the show got so self-indulgent and incestuous that it just sucked.

The best shows I have seen, are not the ones with the biggest whatever or the longest whatever. Money, simply buys you time with which to perfect your craft. Time is indeed a luxury.

Anyway, the best shows I have seen is when the love for the material and respect for the audience shines through everything.

Cause when you do shows, or write stuff - write anything - it is simply perfecting communication. Reaching out to other people and touching them where it counts. Art is communication Communication is communication. Commerce is communication. Everything is communication.

If your communication style is great, there is nothing you can't do.

I got into journalism as well as the entertainment business because my communication skills sucked. I thought it would do me good to train myself in something I considered as the hardest discipline of all. To face my fears and weaknesses, so to speak.

Which shows that I am still weak, as I have strayed into other things when all I wanted to say when I started this rant was to live life, to act, from a position of positivity and without spitefulness or envy.

No ego. Just self that is not the ego.

You might not understand this, but we are not our egos. Our egos constantly try to deceive us into believing that it is us. It is not. We are everything that is not the ego, and that means the universe minus the ego.

When you move or act from the position of self as the universe, then the whole universe moves with you. Like Tenggen Toppa Gurenn Lagaan. See how much power that brings. How much freedom.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Tales from the Sobering Side: Drunk With Power

Oh my. It is 5.44am, and the electricity is still on. It's like magic!

I tried sleep, but it wouldn't catch. This usually happens when I get an idea or two and can't seem to close my eyes.

It is very easy to not appreciate electricity. It's so common. But try and have it turned off a day or two every six months, and you begin to appreciate stuff like electric lights, TV, the computer and music and movies and the arts and books and stuff like that.

When I was growing up, my village only had 12 hours of electricity. It starts at 7pm, and gets turned off at 7am. More or less. TNB was then LLN - Lembaga Letrik Nasional. Or Negara.

I always thought it was stupid to name anything as 'lembaga' because it sounds like something from a horror show. Like, real horrorshow, my droogs.

I grew up not knowing Toriton. I would catch the second and/or third act of The Incredible Hulk (animated series) cause it starts at 7pm. Vic Morrow's Combat only due to my father's car battery hooked up to the old TV set on Saturday afternoons.

TV3 only started broadcast to the East Coast sometime in 1986, I think. I was six years old. I still remember that the first programme I watched was the news. The newscaster said something about new viewers on the East Coast and how to get them using the VHF waves.

My mother used to iron clothes using a coal iron. Our stove was oil-powered. The house looked so big those days. My world was so small.

I'd go to kindergarten and on the way home, we'd kill snakes. Most of the snakes in my village were not poisonous. There was the 'katam tebu' which could kill in two minutes, as well as the diamond-headed green viper which closely resembles the harmless leaf snake, but other than that, the snakes were quite pathetic.

We don't mess around with cobras, though. Fucking poisonous, those.

There was wild quail, and one crossed my path on the way to school.

In kindergarten, they have a way to weed out retards on the first day. They give you pictures of things - animals and plants - and ask you to name them. They were all drawn by the teachers.

Mine was a palm tree of sorts. I was asked, "What is this?"

I said, "It's a tree."

"What kind of tree?"

The artwork was really bad. I couldn't distinguish whether it was a palm tree or palm oil or just a regular tree. So I shrugged.

"It's a palm tree," they said, and put me down as borderline retard.

As toys, the kindergarten got some stupid blocks. Triangles, rectangles, squares and circles of wood, coloured with lead-based paint. I hated those. Really hated them. It couldn't combine or anything.

We officiated the slide, the tire swings (which I avoided like the plague) and the see-saw. The see-saw I used as a prop to pretend to be SIlverhawks characters. But the other kids didn't get it. And I had the theme song and everything.

I played with ant-lions in the sand. Caught a few of them, and killed them. I fought a goat and had cows as pets.

I didn't have comics or books, growing up, so I read the Book of Natural History, and my father's collection of Reader's Digest from 1956 - 1983. I know a lot about the '60s and '70s, the Jurassic Era, Mikhail Baryshnikov, Martina Navratilova, Groucho Marx and not much about today.

What was my point again?

Oh. I come from the swamp, man. So excuse me if I'm not fucking refined. I'm not as rough as my friends, growing up, but I didn't come from a 'good family' that rides horses or some shit. My parents were poor. Still are.

Now that I have exhausted some of my ideas, maybe it's time to try sleep. Again.

Tales from the Drunk Side: Mixmaster

Ever since I saw Moulin Rouge years and years ago, a lifetime ago, I have always wanted to hear songs done in a completely new way.

Glee's episode 20 featured Lady Gaga's Poker Face as a slow, naive duet number between mother and daughter. The context has been changed, the delivery, the tempo. It was just... refreshing.

Part of the proposal for a reality show I was supposed to work with years ago, included this bit as well.

Simply imagine fast numbers sang as a soulful ballad. Slow ones turned into hip-hop. Hard rock numbers turned a gospel performance. Males singing songs by female singers, and vice versa.

Oh, what could have been. Nevermind.

Some people don't get it. They want to BE the singers who originally sang those songs. There is very little understanding of owning a song. Making it yours.

If you can sing, say, Pasti, by Ning Baizura, just like her, why would anyone want to listen to that? Might as well watch Ning Baizura singing Pasti. The real deal.

Whenever you approach any creative project, it is what you yourself bring to the table, how you affect the final outcome that is the only relevant thing.

If you can simply imitate, then you are just a rip-off. There are trillions of new angles. Endless, limitless possibilities. Shaping and reshaping in the void that is not-being.

Just. Bring it out.

Tales from the Drunk Side: Electricity!




Tales from the Drunk Side: Before the Darkness

Before darkness engulfs me - I have no idea how long I will still have power - I will share with you what I have learned so far.

Any emotion or action that comes from negativity, can only beget more negativity. Intention is key.

If you come from greed, fear, anger, hatred, all you will ever spread is more of that bullshit.

You can win, oh, and I have won numerous times by tapping into anger and hatred. But your victory will be a destructive one. Trust me on this. I am THE Lord of Destruction, after all.

Building something is much more difficult and challenging than destroying something. I mean, in 40 minutes, you can destroy your life.

Just go up to your boss, and say, "I fucked your mother on the copy machine."

That's it. Finito. Job gone.

Then, go on TV and say, "I fucked an eight year old girl. I raped her. In the FACE!" That's it. YouTube, motherfucker!

And I stole all that from Brian Michael Bendis.

If you act or speak from a position and intention of peace, there is so much power and effectiveness. Cause whether you're feeling bad or good, whatever needs to be done, needs to be done.

Man, I should write this down and charge people fucking RM10,000 for corporate training.

Tales from the Drunk Side: Miracle at Jalan Tandok

So I went home, fully expecting my electricity to be cut. I went home with a light and untroubled heart, though.

I did not blame Tenaga Nasional. I mean, sure, before this, they cut my power after six months, and it has just been four months since I last paid. But, I understand. When you don't pay, they will cut the supply until you do.

I mean, I do it too.

I decided on a system of only paying after five months. Don't ask. I'm just fucked up.

So I went home, fully expecting the lights to be off, as I left it this morning.

Lo and behold - there is PAWAAAAAAA!!!

I consider this a miracle of modern science. Thank you, TNB. Thank you, God.

I would also like to thank the Academy. My parents, even though I don't think they should have had four kids.

I would also like to thank The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - three legendary journalists who taught me so much.

Alamorphosis, for giving me the experience of handling an events company, a recording label, and a creative consultancy.

I would like to thank Measat Publications and Astro Productions Sdn Bhd, for giving me experience in publishing magazines as well as TV production.

I would like to thank KRU, for taking a chance with a newcomer to do movies. Also, everyone who worked on those movies.

I would also like to thank the people I am currently working with at the new The Malay Mail, the old The Malay Mail, producers and production houses which shall not be named at the moment.

Thanks to Marshall Cavendish and the people behind Matahari Books for giving me the chance to write a book. Always wanted to do that.

Silverfish for giving me the first break into publishing, with my short story in Silverfish III. Though I didn't know that smart casual meant shirt and pants (I went to the launch in a torn t-shirt and cargo pants).

Not forgetting, all those other people and organisations I may have forgotten to thank.

And breaking my system, I am paying the bills tomorrow. It's only RM100++ for FOUR months, so I'm not complaining at all.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Sex and the Sittee-AH!

So some people asked me today, "Why don't I have kids?"

They: But... we didn't ask you that at all!

Me: First, there is women.

They: But no! We didn't ask you anything!

Me: Women think they can control me with sex. However, after training with the Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud, I can't be controlled with mere mortal pussy. Sex is only worth RM50. You can't buy me with RM50. Talk to my dick and keep on sucking. In fact, a blowjob is only RM10.

They: Oh, no. He's going to go on and on... again!

Me: Having no desires, women are afraid of me. Cause I'm like, a straight guy who is impervious to vagina.

They: ...

Me: So now, I don't buy emotional attachment as well, cause that's all bullshit. A scam to get my money, which I don't have anyway.

They: ...

Me: So, I am the greatest.


Caught up in my own drama, with the electricity to my apartment cut off because I didn't pay for the past four months (I usually pay on the fifth month, as before this, they allowed six months before sending the red letter), I was too busy to say anything about the people on those Freedom Flotilla ships. Some of them are Malaysians, and one is someone I know.

Well, I guess, when I blog this, everything will suddenly be okay again. Things will happen, like Optimus Prime will suddenly combine with four other robots and kick some Israeli ass or something.

I don't know. If it works, then, maybe?


I hope everyone on the Freedom Flotilla gets home safe.


It is 4.17am. I am still fending off this fever. I feel if I let go, the fever will consume me. I will not allow that to happen. Too many things to do tomorrow.

I am also having some stomach problems due to the bug. Fucking microbes. You will not get anywhere.

Super Robot Spirit!