I read that this year, the only traditional media that is projected to grow is outdoor advertising. Everything else is on a downward trajectory.
I also read about industries that do not invest in digital media face losses between 900 billion to 1.3 trillion US dollars. I read it somewhere, but I misplaced the link.
Of course, these numbers are released by people who are now in control, people who have great influence over the dissemination of information and communication - the Internet people.
I read these predictions and viewpoints with mixed feelings. A lot of people I meet - especially those in the media industry - do not understand digital media at all. Even those working in the very same industry.
Managing expectations will become crucial to digital media people. First up, the worst, most ill-informed comment I heard about the Internet came from some powerful people who said that the Internet is 'the Underworld'.
That is true, in a way. The Internet started as a porn dispenser. Well, no, it started as a military thing that became commercialized like Hummers. But yes, the Internet's first real success - to me - was as a place to trade porn. I remember using IRC to trade porn for Windows wallpapers I renamed. There was a system where if you allow people to leech 1MB worth of pix, you get to download 1MB worth of pix from the other guy. I used mostly pictures of scenery before hoarding a respectable reservoir of titty pix.
Anyway, the Internet as 'the Underworld' was true until the mid-90s. These people who view the Internet as such are about two decades out of sync with the rest of the world. And they also believe, they would tell me, that the Internet is a passing fad and that one day, all the kids will stop using social media and pick up newspapers and we would all go back to using asbestos and eat lead paint off the walls.
There is another group who believe the Internet as some sort of magic wand, capable of reviving flagging sales of their bullshit products or turn their brand images magically into powerhouses. Here's the truth: if your product is a steaming pile of shit, no amount of spin on any media - traditional or new - can make it better.
And if you have a blog or a Twitter account, and you put forth your views on them, it doesn't make you important. It makes you some guy who has a blog and/or a Twitter account.
And it's TWITTER, not TWEETER.
These things are merely tools. Know their intended functions, know how to use them and most importantly - know and understand people. End of the day, these things allow you to reach to groups of people and you need to learn how to talk to them and how they think, what their culture is, in order to engage properly.
I have seen and heard media experts make unfounded, totally bullshit claims on the effectiveness of their digital selves. I have seen monkeys jump up and down over insignificant bullshit they did on their stupid free websites.
I have seen people claim the impossible, promise the moon and the sky as they ejaculate to their own images in the mirror.
If you want to understand this thing, as with any thing, you need to experience it and be on it, experiment and get educated. There is no other way. And always listen, but never listen to people who claim shit.
I have seen my fair share of conmen, even those who perhaps do not realise they are con artists. Ah, fuck them. Suck my dick.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
The Rock, Rumble, Receipts and Resumes
So, I was angry these past few months and I guess I wanted to write something more uplifting, especially after watching The Rock's speech on WWE's Royal Rumble.
Well, I guess not everything's bad. I am waiting for payment on some of my personal work. I hope they pay me before the end of January, because some have been delayed for so long. Try two years.The money couldn't come at a better time, though. I hope I get it soon.
I managed to hit deadlines for all personal projects, which is cool. Now I can tackle my novels. I have four lined up and, as an experiment, I would like to try and write all four at once.
The reason being I get bored easily. Jumping from one personal project to another with no deadlines that could affect other people is a good thing. However, I cannot be greedy or crazy. I know of one person who claims he has written 60 novels, but none of them were published. And I think he's got a few screws in his head loose.
Funny thing - when some people find out I write stuff, some often question me. Did you really write this or that movie? Did I write that? Which part? How about all of it, you stupid piece of shit? Yes, the good parts as well as the bad parts.
It was as if I was in a circus and these people are poking me - the circus animal.
I am not in the habit of publishing my entire resume on my website or even treat Facebook profiles seriously. I have nothing against people who do, like how I have nothing against Justin Bieber fans. And yes, I have done all those things I said I did. Because I'm not a liar like your mother. And you.
The problem is, my resume is now 4 pages long. I am a firm believer that resumes should be one page. I started off with one page, but it has grown. I know of people who have resumes over 20 pages long and though the number is impressive, I believe any CV more than a page long is superfluous, including mine.
I believe I need to do some editing on my resume.
This is due to the Author's bio behind books. I wonder what I should write there? Most authors write half a page of a paperback. Especially the best ones. My bios have been very short. This is because I believe there is no way a few hundred or a few thousand words can capture the essence of a person. Bios are meant tp be a bit of fun and a bit of insight to the person it is describing. Not a full CV, surely.
Nobody cares if you went on a 3-month course for some stupid shit thing. Who gives a fuck?
Ah, man. I got a breakfast meeting of sorts. I should get some sleep.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Intermission: The Warm-Up
I'm finishing up writing a medium-sized project at home tonight. So before I continue, I'm gonna warm up a bit by writing something completely unrelated.
I was really angry these past few months. Really, really angry. Instead of assuming my aspect as Lord of Destruction, I decided to find a better way. A better arrangement.
In the beginning, it didn't start off like that. I just wanted to whine and moan. Then, things started happening and one lead to another and here I am, standing amidst the rubble of darkness and depression, with a plan, armed with nothing save for my wit, and my will. Just like Lucifer. Yay!
I sometimes get people coming up to me and say, "I believe you are a creative person." They mean it as a compliment of sorts and I always thank them. However, in my understanding, everyone is creative. Anyone can do whatever anyone else has done. Van Gogh painted stuff. You can paint too. Alan Moore writes comics, you can write too. Anyone can do it, but not many has the passion, the energy, the wit or the will to do so.
'Being creative' is nothing more spectacular than being able to breathe. There is really no romance in there, seriously. It CAN be, but more often than not, it isn't.
I am at an awkward phase where I see the past work of people before me, as well as the stuff the younger generations are propping up. I see the mistakes and the triumphs, the success and failures of people who claim they 'do art'.
My greatest worry - which is severely misplaced because I should only worry about myself - is when people 'do art', regardless of the medium, to be loved. I will not condemn any motivation to do anything because that would be unfair, but I have seen so many people who do things, expecting to be loved, and falling into the great pits of despair and stayed there for years.
I did things for recognition when I was in high school. I wrote a lot of short stories. 17 short stories a year, so I could please people. So I could find a function for myself. My audience was mostly students who were happy that someone is doing what I do so they would not have to do it, so I guess it pleased some of them. There was a small group who were extremely egotistical - we were teenagers, so that's our excuse - whose sole reason for existence is to 'take people down a notch' so they just hated everything. Most don't give a damn.
It was around this time, after leaving school, that I realised nothing really matters. Since 'the arts' is subjective, no opinion is truer than the other. So that means every viewpoint is worthless.
I see sometimes people who try to break out from normal conventions and establish their own style, which is commendable. And then they try to force their ideals down other people's throats. They walk around with chips on their shoulders, believing themselves to be the intellectual saviour of the masses. They believe themselves special and 'above' the fold.
I sometimes parody them, going around claiming I am the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century, that I am the Best in the World. It is meant as parody, but insecure fucks believe me when I say so. I have facepalmed myself in the toilet so many times when I see these brainless peacocks react to my prodding and poking.
I see all this and I go, "Meh." I am far more self-absorbed and self-centered to think about other people. I am, after all, the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century.
My great mission was to do what I want and get paid handsomely to do so. I wanted to become a well-paid writer. In Malaysia.
This is unheard of, of course. There are Malaysian painters who make hundreds of thousands of ringgit from one piece. There are singers, musicians, actors, directors, who make tons of money. But never writers. Writing, in itself, doesn't really make serious money.
Even writing films - a lucrative profession in the US - pays you small change. Say you get lucky and someone offers you RM50,000 to write a script. It's a decent price. How long would it take? A year? Two years? How long would it take for them to pay you? Three months? A year? Two years?
50K divided over two years is like, 2K a month. And that's 50K.
Books? A novel pays you around, what? 10% of the actual price? If you sell 2000 copies - which is a decent run - you get RM4,000. How long would it take for you to write a novel?
A lot of people I meet - new people - always have this familiar glint in their eyes. They believe they are special, that they can make it, that they can score the imaginary millions unlike others who have failed to do so. And I must say, yes, everyone is special. Everyone has a story to tell. Many stories, in fact.
And yes, the potential is there. However, having unrealistic expectations or having any expectations whatsoever is a formula for despair.
I'll tell you my motivation - I write for money. I don't expect people to love me. I have no desire or need for that. I am the last child in my family - I have never had any need for attention. My personality ensures I get attention, which can sometimes be cumbersome and annoying.
And then, realising there is little money to be made from writing, I have acquired other skills to take care of my expenses and write for fucks.
Yes. In the end, that is my true motivation - I write for fucks. My apartment is clean. Now, who wants to fuck?
I was really angry these past few months. Really, really angry. Instead of assuming my aspect as Lord of Destruction, I decided to find a better way. A better arrangement.
In the beginning, it didn't start off like that. I just wanted to whine and moan. Then, things started happening and one lead to another and here I am, standing amidst the rubble of darkness and depression, with a plan, armed with nothing save for my wit, and my will. Just like Lucifer. Yay!
I sometimes get people coming up to me and say, "I believe you are a creative person." They mean it as a compliment of sorts and I always thank them. However, in my understanding, everyone is creative. Anyone can do whatever anyone else has done. Van Gogh painted stuff. You can paint too. Alan Moore writes comics, you can write too. Anyone can do it, but not many has the passion, the energy, the wit or the will to do so.
'Being creative' is nothing more spectacular than being able to breathe. There is really no romance in there, seriously. It CAN be, but more often than not, it isn't.
I am at an awkward phase where I see the past work of people before me, as well as the stuff the younger generations are propping up. I see the mistakes and the triumphs, the success and failures of people who claim they 'do art'.
My greatest worry - which is severely misplaced because I should only worry about myself - is when people 'do art', regardless of the medium, to be loved. I will not condemn any motivation to do anything because that would be unfair, but I have seen so many people who do things, expecting to be loved, and falling into the great pits of despair and stayed there for years.
I did things for recognition when I was in high school. I wrote a lot of short stories. 17 short stories a year, so I could please people. So I could find a function for myself. My audience was mostly students who were happy that someone is doing what I do so they would not have to do it, so I guess it pleased some of them. There was a small group who were extremely egotistical - we were teenagers, so that's our excuse - whose sole reason for existence is to 'take people down a notch' so they just hated everything. Most don't give a damn.
It was around this time, after leaving school, that I realised nothing really matters. Since 'the arts' is subjective, no opinion is truer than the other. So that means every viewpoint is worthless.
I see sometimes people who try to break out from normal conventions and establish their own style, which is commendable. And then they try to force their ideals down other people's throats. They walk around with chips on their shoulders, believing themselves to be the intellectual saviour of the masses. They believe themselves special and 'above' the fold.
I sometimes parody them, going around claiming I am the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century, that I am the Best in the World. It is meant as parody, but insecure fucks believe me when I say so. I have facepalmed myself in the toilet so many times when I see these brainless peacocks react to my prodding and poking.
I see all this and I go, "Meh." I am far more self-absorbed and self-centered to think about other people. I am, after all, the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century.
My great mission was to do what I want and get paid handsomely to do so. I wanted to become a well-paid writer. In Malaysia.
This is unheard of, of course. There are Malaysian painters who make hundreds of thousands of ringgit from one piece. There are singers, musicians, actors, directors, who make tons of money. But never writers. Writing, in itself, doesn't really make serious money.
Even writing films - a lucrative profession in the US - pays you small change. Say you get lucky and someone offers you RM50,000 to write a script. It's a decent price. How long would it take? A year? Two years? How long would it take for them to pay you? Three months? A year? Two years?
50K divided over two years is like, 2K a month. And that's 50K.
Books? A novel pays you around, what? 10% of the actual price? If you sell 2000 copies - which is a decent run - you get RM4,000. How long would it take for you to write a novel?
A lot of people I meet - new people - always have this familiar glint in their eyes. They believe they are special, that they can make it, that they can score the imaginary millions unlike others who have failed to do so. And I must say, yes, everyone is special. Everyone has a story to tell. Many stories, in fact.
And yes, the potential is there. However, having unrealistic expectations or having any expectations whatsoever is a formula for despair.
I'll tell you my motivation - I write for money. I don't expect people to love me. I have no desire or need for that. I am the last child in my family - I have never had any need for attention. My personality ensures I get attention, which can sometimes be cumbersome and annoying.
And then, realising there is little money to be made from writing, I have acquired other skills to take care of my expenses and write for fucks.
Yes. In the end, that is my true motivation - I write for fucks. My apartment is clean. Now, who wants to fuck?
Friday, January 18, 2013
Bounce
I was working at home when a friend called me up and asked me out for a drink.
He wanted to start a business, a physical shop of some sort, a brick-and-mortar extension of his online business that sells things.
He obviously has made his decision on what he wants to do, so when I asked him why he wanted to talk, he said he merely wanted to bounce ideas off me.
So for some reason, I explained to him, at 12 midnight, at a mamak shop with lettering on the sign more befitting a Chinese restaurant, CAPEX, OPEX, A&P as well as marketing budgets. I felt like I could use my corporate powers for good, and so I did.
Since everything is about me, I also bounced off some story ideas for various platforms. I am working on new, or perhaps old, but new to me, media platforms on content delivery, as well as finally write the stories, novels and scripts I have promised people these past two years.
I had an idea for a sports movie, but since all Malaysian studios rejected that story, and I myself do not believe any production can pull it off properly, I believe it could work as a book. A novel.
I have so many things left unwritten, it drives me crazy everyday. However, I believe everything happens for a reason. All this delaying writing all these things down have given me some time to mull them over in my head.
I am confident with some major changes I am making in my life, that I could finally go back to these ideas I have ignored for so long.
"Don't tell me you want to write forever," said a person to me, condescendingly, years ago. The answer is yes, I do want to to write forever. I see nothing wrong with it. I like it, and writing has given me so much joy.
People do things for different reasons. Many writers I have met said or implied they write so that other people would say how great they are. I find this extremely insecure, but I understand. I had the same thoughts when I was younger, thinking, "These writings are so bad, if I improved just slightly, I will be hailed a genius!" And make money.
I made some money. Not a lot. And I can safely say that I do not need people to tell me I'm a genius. I know I'm a genius. The greatest mind of the 21st Century.
Writing, to me, is communication. I've always had problems communicating my great ideas to idiots and monkeys, so writing is the best chance I have of conveying these thoughts and images inside my head.
Sometimes, you find some people at certain points in time when you can bounce ideas with them without having this feeling that you're talking to a monkey, or a white-faced gibbon, and that's cool too.
I am blessed to have met quite a few in my lifetime and it is my resolve to spend more time with them rather than on idiots, monkeys and conmen who do nothing for my blood-pressure.
I am grateful that some of my family members are also highly intelligent and we could converse on a level I am comfortable with.
For example, I read a lot about religion and can explain to another what tetragammaton is (the voice of God and an order of police officers practicing gun-kata in the Christian Bale vehicle Equilibrium) and they can tell me how alpha particles in radiation work.
However, communication doesn't only happen at an intellectual level. You can also communicate at an emotional level, and the stuff I want to do, both for my professional and personal projects this year all have a mixture of both. I hope it works, but if it doesn't, if none of it gets through, I'll still enjoy the process.
SOme people wrote that most things start with an idea. Neil Gaiman said that all things began with a dream. I have many ideas and a lot of dreams, so I have started many things. Now, I am looking to finish them.
He wanted to start a business, a physical shop of some sort, a brick-and-mortar extension of his online business that sells things.
He obviously has made his decision on what he wants to do, so when I asked him why he wanted to talk, he said he merely wanted to bounce ideas off me.
So for some reason, I explained to him, at 12 midnight, at a mamak shop with lettering on the sign more befitting a Chinese restaurant, CAPEX, OPEX, A&P as well as marketing budgets. I felt like I could use my corporate powers for good, and so I did.
Since everything is about me, I also bounced off some story ideas for various platforms. I am working on new, or perhaps old, but new to me, media platforms on content delivery, as well as finally write the stories, novels and scripts I have promised people these past two years.
I had an idea for a sports movie, but since all Malaysian studios rejected that story, and I myself do not believe any production can pull it off properly, I believe it could work as a book. A novel.
I have so many things left unwritten, it drives me crazy everyday. However, I believe everything happens for a reason. All this delaying writing all these things down have given me some time to mull them over in my head.
I am confident with some major changes I am making in my life, that I could finally go back to these ideas I have ignored for so long.
"Don't tell me you want to write forever," said a person to me, condescendingly, years ago. The answer is yes, I do want to to write forever. I see nothing wrong with it. I like it, and writing has given me so much joy.
People do things for different reasons. Many writers I have met said or implied they write so that other people would say how great they are. I find this extremely insecure, but I understand. I had the same thoughts when I was younger, thinking, "These writings are so bad, if I improved just slightly, I will be hailed a genius!" And make money.
I made some money. Not a lot. And I can safely say that I do not need people to tell me I'm a genius. I know I'm a genius. The greatest mind of the 21st Century.
Writing, to me, is communication. I've always had problems communicating my great ideas to idiots and monkeys, so writing is the best chance I have of conveying these thoughts and images inside my head.
Sometimes, you find some people at certain points in time when you can bounce ideas with them without having this feeling that you're talking to a monkey, or a white-faced gibbon, and that's cool too.
I am blessed to have met quite a few in my lifetime and it is my resolve to spend more time with them rather than on idiots, monkeys and conmen who do nothing for my blood-pressure.
I am grateful that some of my family members are also highly intelligent and we could converse on a level I am comfortable with.
For example, I read a lot about religion and can explain to another what tetragammaton is (the voice of God and an order of police officers practicing gun-kata in the Christian Bale vehicle Equilibrium) and they can tell me how alpha particles in radiation work.
However, communication doesn't only happen at an intellectual level. You can also communicate at an emotional level, and the stuff I want to do, both for my professional and personal projects this year all have a mixture of both. I hope it works, but if it doesn't, if none of it gets through, I'll still enjoy the process.
SOme people wrote that most things start with an idea. Neil Gaiman said that all things began with a dream. I have many ideas and a lot of dreams, so I have started many things. Now, I am looking to finish them.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Destruction of the Imminent
Today, I took leave to meet some friends in preparation for some things. A few did not turn up today, but I had more than enough company.
Met some new people as well, these traditional Malays who did not believe my career path.
"How did you end up doing this or that?"
Well, I have some skill. Some glimmers of talent, but mostly it was truckloads of luck. Never discount luck and lose your head. I mean, I never conned anyone into thinking I could do what I could not. Always been truthful, either in success or failure.
I also used these past few weeks accumulating a lot of information. What I found is that different people have many different viewpoints on things, even if they saw exact same thing happen right in front of them. My curse is that I can see multiple opposing views of the same subject at the same time. I can see and agree multiple sides of an argument.
Some people call this intelligence, but it really bothers the shit out of political types who need to peg people into neat little boxes on an Excel sheet.
I'm not even a lalang or a flip-flopper. I am what you call a Chaotic Neutral. I am also exclusively on my side. And perhaps the only person in Malaysia honest enough to admit it.
Some say my honesty is stupid, but I have survived, even excelled at times with just being honest. Not being afraid of the truth means you don't have to give a fuck. I did the Peacekeeper jazz for years, but in the end, who the fuck cares, eh?
Just a bit more information and I'm good to go. But first, sleep.
Met some new people as well, these traditional Malays who did not believe my career path.
"How did you end up doing this or that?"
Well, I have some skill. Some glimmers of talent, but mostly it was truckloads of luck. Never discount luck and lose your head. I mean, I never conned anyone into thinking I could do what I could not. Always been truthful, either in success or failure.
I also used these past few weeks accumulating a lot of information. What I found is that different people have many different viewpoints on things, even if they saw exact same thing happen right in front of them. My curse is that I can see multiple opposing views of the same subject at the same time. I can see and agree multiple sides of an argument.
Some people call this intelligence, but it really bothers the shit out of political types who need to peg people into neat little boxes on an Excel sheet.
I'm not even a lalang or a flip-flopper. I am what you call a Chaotic Neutral. I am also exclusively on my side. And perhaps the only person in Malaysia honest enough to admit it.
Some say my honesty is stupid, but I have survived, even excelled at times with just being honest. Not being afraid of the truth means you don't have to give a fuck. I did the Peacekeeper jazz for years, but in the end, who the fuck cares, eh?
Just a bit more information and I'm good to go. But first, sleep.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Tales from the Two Drinks Side: The Measure of a Man
The measure of a man is not his dick. Surprisingly.
It is about whether he honours his words. One broken promise would lead to millions of other broken promises and one lie will generate a billion other lies. I genuinely believe lies destroy the world, obsessed I am with the truth.
Growing up, I realised that in this world of lies and liars, I would either have to kill myself - since I don't fit at all - or I can force the world to tell the truth.
When I heard it for the first time, when I heard the truth, I wanted to puke. But truth is good medicine. For the worst ailment affecting mankind - delusions.
I am a creature of dreams. I belong to Dream, but my aspect, my function, is to determine reality. To assert and determine what is and what is not. Information flow. Remix reality. All that jazz.
Before I embark on the next step of my journey, I ask myself - am I ready to risk everything? Is everything worth it? Or am I pitting one cloud castle with another?
Hope the mortgage is low.
But my dick is strong, and my balls are hard.
It is about whether he honours his words. One broken promise would lead to millions of other broken promises and one lie will generate a billion other lies. I genuinely believe lies destroy the world, obsessed I am with the truth.
Growing up, I realised that in this world of lies and liars, I would either have to kill myself - since I don't fit at all - or I can force the world to tell the truth.
When I heard it for the first time, when I heard the truth, I wanted to puke. But truth is good medicine. For the worst ailment affecting mankind - delusions.
I am a creature of dreams. I belong to Dream, but my aspect, my function, is to determine reality. To assert and determine what is and what is not. Information flow. Remix reality. All that jazz.
Before I embark on the next step of my journey, I ask myself - am I ready to risk everything? Is everything worth it? Or am I pitting one cloud castle with another?
Hope the mortgage is low.
But my dick is strong, and my balls are hard.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Sastera Klasik Melayu, Tradisi Oral dan Kubur Idea
Aku pernah mendapat komen tentang skrip yang aku tulis.
"Bro, ko lain kali jangan tulis la pepatah Melayu. Aktor ko takleh nak bawak."
Reaksi aku simple. "Pepatah kejadahnya?"
Maka ditunjukkanlah pada aku babak itu.
Ternyata, pelakon fumble kat satu pepatah yang bagi aku amat biasa. Untuk tujuan perbincangan, mari kita gunakan pepatah yang tidak berkait - "seperti kadok naik junjung".
Ada ramai anak Melayu yang akan sebut pepatah ni macam ni: "seperti badonk-ka-donk naek jinjuinginguing.". Serius.
Dalam dunia moden sekarang, aku yang aku sendiri kira hanya berilmu bahasa sederhana, sudah boleh dinobat, malah dinafirikan, sebagai Sasterawan Negara.
Antara soalan yang mengejutkan aku - maaf, membuatkan aku terkesima - adalah kata-kata ini yang terpacul daripada mulut seorang penggiat seni - "Ko buat cerita pasal Pak Pandir ya? Pak Pandir ni sapa?"
Pada masa itu, aku rasa seperti lewbank jewboor taekku sewpertiew dirodok logam panas bernyala api lancip. Aku rasa seperti sebaldi petrol sejuk dicurahkan pada badan aku dan ada seorang Orc daripada Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers berlari ke arah aku sambil memegang obor dan, walaupun ditembak dengan seratus anak panah, telah menyalakan petrol pada badan aku.
Aku pun terbakar dalam kesedaran yang Bahasa Malaysia sudah semakin terpinggir dan tidak lagi menjadi bahasa yang penting. Budaya penceritaan Melayu sudah hampir pupus. Juga, aku sudah tua dan tak lama lagi, kulit telur aku pun akan menjadi lebih berkedut dan kerepot.
Aku pernah cuba menulis cerita Pak Pandir dengan mereka kembali watak itu sebagai seorang yang pandai dan bukan bodoh-bodoh alang seperti yang diceritakan oleh datuk aku.
Cerita asli pertama Pak Pandir yang aku baca, dia pergi menggetah burung. Lepas dah tangkap banyak, dia lekatakan kat tali pinggang dia. Lepas tu dia terbang dan mendarat kat istana raja. Melihat ada manusia yang 'turun dari langit', Sultan percaya dia dewa kayangan, lantas menjodohkan puterinya dengan Pak Pandir. Apakah persetubuhan ini? Maksud aku, what the fuck?
Bagi aku, ini menunjukkan Pak Pandir bukanlah seorang yang dangkal, dungu, bodoh atau lembap. AKu rasa dia ni macam wacky inventor. Pereka yang suka melancap.
Jadi aku cuba buat cerita latar Pak Pandir.
Nama sebenar? Pandita. Sanskrit untuk mamat pandai. Tapi sebab dah pandai sangat, dia kena sumpah sampai dia gila atau bodoh-bodoh alang. Panggil dia Pandir. Bila tua jadi Pak Pandir.
AKu saspek Mak Andeh tulah puteri raja yang dikahwinkan dengan Pak Pandir, masa dia 'turun dari langit'.
Aku nak buat komik, tapi aku dah tak ada masa. AKu rasa macam nak mengumpul semua idea aku yang haram takkan keluar, dan terbitkan buku bertajuk 'Ideas I Had Which Seemed Like a Good Thing at the Time and Now I Will Never Write' atau 'Ideas'.
Okaylah, mari aku senaraikan idea aku yang aku rasa takkan ke mana:
1. Kenapa Adib Mengamuk - sebuah homage kepada Rashomon dan stereotaip filem Melayu
2. Nusan - siri animasi 7 musim pasal 7 sekawan yang hidup dalam dunia purba dan berlawan dengan empayar seperti empayar Kushan sambil menangani kemelut politik setempat. Kisah yang mengumpulkan SEMUA lagenda dan mitos Asia Tenggara dalam satu dunia. Penuh adegan 'satu lawan seratus' seperti animasi Berserk.
3. Ninja Vs Bomoh - sebuah filem nasionalis komedi yang tidak memualkan.
4. Haven - siri animasi sains fiksyen 3 musim pasal masa depan manusia yang gelap dan berakhir dengan Matrix + Megazone 23
5. Baki - sebuah filem lancapan terulung pasal lelaki yang fikir dialah pusat alam semesta
6. Anjing Lapar Melahap Tahi - jurus hikmat yang aku cuba sempurnakan
7. Khinzir Yang Halal - sebuah 'fable' pasal seekor babi yang ingin menjadi halal
8. Ko-Op Cikgu Mat - cerita pasal bapak aku bukak ko-op
9. Nama Aku Batman - homage kepada 'Mere Naam Joker' Cerita pasal awek tiga orang yang dicintai oleh seorang Jawa bernama Batman Bin Suparman.
10. Matinya Sebiji Pankreas - sebuah drama emo pasal kencing manis
"Bro, ko lain kali jangan tulis la pepatah Melayu. Aktor ko takleh nak bawak."
Reaksi aku simple. "Pepatah kejadahnya?"
Maka ditunjukkanlah pada aku babak itu.
Ternyata, pelakon fumble kat satu pepatah yang bagi aku amat biasa. Untuk tujuan perbincangan, mari kita gunakan pepatah yang tidak berkait - "seperti kadok naik junjung".
Ada ramai anak Melayu yang akan sebut pepatah ni macam ni: "seperti badonk-ka-donk naek jinjuinginguing.". Serius.
Dalam dunia moden sekarang, aku yang aku sendiri kira hanya berilmu bahasa sederhana, sudah boleh dinobat, malah dinafirikan, sebagai Sasterawan Negara.
Antara soalan yang mengejutkan aku - maaf, membuatkan aku terkesima - adalah kata-kata ini yang terpacul daripada mulut seorang penggiat seni - "Ko buat cerita pasal Pak Pandir ya? Pak Pandir ni sapa?"
Pada masa itu, aku rasa seperti lewbank jewboor taekku sewpertiew dirodok logam panas bernyala api lancip. Aku rasa seperti sebaldi petrol sejuk dicurahkan pada badan aku dan ada seorang Orc daripada Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers berlari ke arah aku sambil memegang obor dan, walaupun ditembak dengan seratus anak panah, telah menyalakan petrol pada badan aku.
Aku pun terbakar dalam kesedaran yang Bahasa Malaysia sudah semakin terpinggir dan tidak lagi menjadi bahasa yang penting. Budaya penceritaan Melayu sudah hampir pupus. Juga, aku sudah tua dan tak lama lagi, kulit telur aku pun akan menjadi lebih berkedut dan kerepot.
Aku pernah cuba menulis cerita Pak Pandir dengan mereka kembali watak itu sebagai seorang yang pandai dan bukan bodoh-bodoh alang seperti yang diceritakan oleh datuk aku.
Cerita asli pertama Pak Pandir yang aku baca, dia pergi menggetah burung. Lepas dah tangkap banyak, dia lekatakan kat tali pinggang dia. Lepas tu dia terbang dan mendarat kat istana raja. Melihat ada manusia yang 'turun dari langit', Sultan percaya dia dewa kayangan, lantas menjodohkan puterinya dengan Pak Pandir. Apakah persetubuhan ini? Maksud aku, what the fuck?
Bagi aku, ini menunjukkan Pak Pandir bukanlah seorang yang dangkal, dungu, bodoh atau lembap. AKu rasa dia ni macam wacky inventor. Pereka yang suka melancap.
Jadi aku cuba buat cerita latar Pak Pandir.
Nama sebenar? Pandita. Sanskrit untuk mamat pandai. Tapi sebab dah pandai sangat, dia kena sumpah sampai dia gila atau bodoh-bodoh alang. Panggil dia Pandir. Bila tua jadi Pak Pandir.
AKu saspek Mak Andeh tulah puteri raja yang dikahwinkan dengan Pak Pandir, masa dia 'turun dari langit'.
Aku nak buat komik, tapi aku dah tak ada masa. AKu rasa macam nak mengumpul semua idea aku yang haram takkan keluar, dan terbitkan buku bertajuk 'Ideas I Had Which Seemed Like a Good Thing at the Time and Now I Will Never Write' atau 'Ideas'.
Okaylah, mari aku senaraikan idea aku yang aku rasa takkan ke mana:
1. Kenapa Adib Mengamuk - sebuah homage kepada Rashomon dan stereotaip filem Melayu
2. Nusan - siri animasi 7 musim pasal 7 sekawan yang hidup dalam dunia purba dan berlawan dengan empayar seperti empayar Kushan sambil menangani kemelut politik setempat. Kisah yang mengumpulkan SEMUA lagenda dan mitos Asia Tenggara dalam satu dunia. Penuh adegan 'satu lawan seratus' seperti animasi Berserk.
3. Ninja Vs Bomoh - sebuah filem nasionalis komedi yang tidak memualkan.
4. Haven - siri animasi sains fiksyen 3 musim pasal masa depan manusia yang gelap dan berakhir dengan Matrix + Megazone 23
5. Baki - sebuah filem lancapan terulung pasal lelaki yang fikir dialah pusat alam semesta
6. Anjing Lapar Melahap Tahi - jurus hikmat yang aku cuba sempurnakan
7. Khinzir Yang Halal - sebuah 'fable' pasal seekor babi yang ingin menjadi halal
8. Ko-Op Cikgu Mat - cerita pasal bapak aku bukak ko-op
9. Nama Aku Batman - homage kepada 'Mere Naam Joker' Cerita pasal awek tiga orang yang dicintai oleh seorang Jawa bernama Batman Bin Suparman.
10. Matinya Sebiji Pankreas - sebuah drama emo pasal kencing manis
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
My Speech When I Come Back from Winning the Nobel Prize in Literature
I can't wait to have more time to do my own personal projects and finally win the Nobel Prize for Literature.
When I come back from winning it, here is my speech to you, my countrymen:
Well, hello, there. See this thing around my neck? To the monkeys and baboons, this is what is called the Nobel Prize. I won it for literature, which proves that I am the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century.
All you fuckers may kiss the ground beneath my feet, AFTER I have walked on it and not during or before. Especially not during me walking on this earth, or that earth or whatever.
To all of those who wish to say something to me, I say this - shut up. Did you win the Nobel Prize? Do you have the Nobel Prize hanging from your neck? No? Then shut the fuck up.
I would like to take this opportunity, to make fun of idiots I have met in this country. You will all be the subject of my next book, called "Spiteful Idiots I've Met and Why They Should Die by Insertion of Hot Metal Through the Anus".
It will be a grand book which celebrates intelligence and good grace, while highlighting, in stark contrast, the buffoons and actual, literal baboons most of you are. And why you should all die by insertion of hot metal through the ass.
I must also be gracious and admit to my own failings, as all great literary figures are wont to do. I admit that I have always believed, deep in my heart, that everyone is stupid, except me. This belief is fueled by the fact that it is true. A fact proven by this thing around my neck. What's it called, again? Oh, yes, a Nobel Prize.
What is that? You want to adapt my writings to songs and movies? A theatrical play? Well, now. I do not believe that anyone other than Jean-Pierre Jeunet has even the bare minimum mental capacity to grasp my work, let alone translate it to other mediums.
So, no.
Oh? And what are my plans afterwards? Well, I am not gay or anything, but I would like to spend the next 50 years sitting at home, while a line of people - you people - come and suck my dick. While I write "Spiteful Idiots I've Met and Why They Should Die by Insertion of Hot Metal Through the Anus".
Also, I would like to make a request. Since our education system is so bad, I would like to call for the bottom 99% to be killed immediately. This will ensure that I only get to meet smart people and never have to suffer from the sight, sound or the fury of idiots ever again.
That is all. You can go home now, and weep, or start sucking my dick.
When I come back from winning it, here is my speech to you, my countrymen:
Well, hello, there. See this thing around my neck? To the monkeys and baboons, this is what is called the Nobel Prize. I won it for literature, which proves that I am the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century.
All you fuckers may kiss the ground beneath my feet, AFTER I have walked on it and not during or before. Especially not during me walking on this earth, or that earth or whatever.
To all of those who wish to say something to me, I say this - shut up. Did you win the Nobel Prize? Do you have the Nobel Prize hanging from your neck? No? Then shut the fuck up.
I would like to take this opportunity, to make fun of idiots I have met in this country. You will all be the subject of my next book, called "Spiteful Idiots I've Met and Why They Should Die by Insertion of Hot Metal Through the Anus".
It will be a grand book which celebrates intelligence and good grace, while highlighting, in stark contrast, the buffoons and actual, literal baboons most of you are. And why you should all die by insertion of hot metal through the ass.
I must also be gracious and admit to my own failings, as all great literary figures are wont to do. I admit that I have always believed, deep in my heart, that everyone is stupid, except me. This belief is fueled by the fact that it is true. A fact proven by this thing around my neck. What's it called, again? Oh, yes, a Nobel Prize.
What is that? You want to adapt my writings to songs and movies? A theatrical play? Well, now. I do not believe that anyone other than Jean-Pierre Jeunet has even the bare minimum mental capacity to grasp my work, let alone translate it to other mediums.
So, no.
Oh? And what are my plans afterwards? Well, I am not gay or anything, but I would like to spend the next 50 years sitting at home, while a line of people - you people - come and suck my dick. While I write "Spiteful Idiots I've Met and Why They Should Die by Insertion of Hot Metal Through the Anus".
Also, I would like to make a request. Since our education system is so bad, I would like to call for the bottom 99% to be killed immediately. This will ensure that I only get to meet smart people and never have to suffer from the sight, sound or the fury of idiots ever again.
That is all. You can go home now, and weep, or start sucking my dick.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Who the Fuck Cares?
Tonight I went out with some friends for dinner and a movie, and also heard about the pettiness of humanity.
I have taken my medicine and am now quite drowsy, but I must say whatever anyway.
First, some friends and I got some really bad reviews for our work, written anonymously by perhaps some of our 'mutual friends'. My advice to them was to just don't give a fuck. If I had paid attention to bad reviews, I would have killed myself a long time ago.
In fact, I was quite entertained by said reviews because they accused us of being 'Mohamadeians' - a term I have not read for decades. It entertains me because of all the effort it took to be spiteful and harsh, and how I could do it better, with half a teaspoon of bena-expectorant and one tablet of Actifed. Wheeeee!
Amateur reviewers take great pains, thinking people actually hang on to every word, every opinion they say. I have reviewed things for almost 10 years. Not that long, but long enough to know that it doesn't matter.
One review I wrote earned the ire of some 'powerful' people so much that they threatened a lawsuit, and they kept mentioning it for the next few years to anyone who would listen. A few YEARS. Now THAT'S a scathing, impactful review.
And yet, I remain as I am, and they remain very powerful in their circles. Nothing has changed.
The point is, and I can't repeat this enough, whatever you do, 3% of the people will love it, 3% will hate it, all for completely different reasons, and 94% don't give a fuck.
I am much more concerned in encouraging more people to do things rather than doing reviews, because reviews do not forward society, culture or anything. Especially in this day and age where everyone gets a say. And I thought the whole point of my generation - Gen X - was to not be told what to like and who to like.
Also, if Babe - the greatest movie ever made - could not reach 100% at RottenTomatoes - then what hope does any of us have?
A more disturbing thing is about a writer who has published quite a few novels - more than most of his contemporaries, certainly more than me (just one so far) - and have enjoyed some success, and then, when bits of his perhaps disturbed psychology surfaced, and some people tried to poke him online.
I do not care to speculate their motives - jealousy, perhaps? a feeling of being lied to? - whatever the fuck, I don't give a flying fuck. I just don't think picking on people - mentally unstable or no - as something you should do.
This sheds some insight as to what monkeys we have degenerated into, as a society. We deserve our leaders, and it is no surprise then that one of the leading politicians impersonated a monkey quite publicly, shouting 'ka-kaaa! Woo hoo hoo!' and manages to get the support of many.
So, just do your things, man. I thought all those shows in the '80s and '90s with the ugly clothing and bad rapping taught all of us that nothing and no one really matters. And that at the end of the day, the work that you have done is much more important than the work you have never done, but wanted to.
Stop being such cowards and just write and do shit, shoot films or play songs or whatever the fuck. No one gives a fuck about you, so revel in it and do what you love, because only you will love your own work. You will regret not taking the plunge than taking it and finding that you got a bit wet, or bumped your head on a rock.
I have taken my medicine and am now quite drowsy, but I must say whatever anyway.
First, some friends and I got some really bad reviews for our work, written anonymously by perhaps some of our 'mutual friends'. My advice to them was to just don't give a fuck. If I had paid attention to bad reviews, I would have killed myself a long time ago.
In fact, I was quite entertained by said reviews because they accused us of being 'Mohamadeians' - a term I have not read for decades. It entertains me because of all the effort it took to be spiteful and harsh, and how I could do it better, with half a teaspoon of bena-expectorant and one tablet of Actifed. Wheeeee!
Amateur reviewers take great pains, thinking people actually hang on to every word, every opinion they say. I have reviewed things for almost 10 years. Not that long, but long enough to know that it doesn't matter.
One review I wrote earned the ire of some 'powerful' people so much that they threatened a lawsuit, and they kept mentioning it for the next few years to anyone who would listen. A few YEARS. Now THAT'S a scathing, impactful review.
And yet, I remain as I am, and they remain very powerful in their circles. Nothing has changed.
The point is, and I can't repeat this enough, whatever you do, 3% of the people will love it, 3% will hate it, all for completely different reasons, and 94% don't give a fuck.
I am much more concerned in encouraging more people to do things rather than doing reviews, because reviews do not forward society, culture or anything. Especially in this day and age where everyone gets a say. And I thought the whole point of my generation - Gen X - was to not be told what to like and who to like.
Also, if Babe - the greatest movie ever made - could not reach 100% at RottenTomatoes - then what hope does any of us have?
A more disturbing thing is about a writer who has published quite a few novels - more than most of his contemporaries, certainly more than me (just one so far) - and have enjoyed some success, and then, when bits of his perhaps disturbed psychology surfaced, and some people tried to poke him online.
I do not care to speculate their motives - jealousy, perhaps? a feeling of being lied to? - whatever the fuck, I don't give a flying fuck. I just don't think picking on people - mentally unstable or no - as something you should do.
This sheds some insight as to what monkeys we have degenerated into, as a society. We deserve our leaders, and it is no surprise then that one of the leading politicians impersonated a monkey quite publicly, shouting 'ka-kaaa! Woo hoo hoo!' and manages to get the support of many.
So, just do your things, man. I thought all those shows in the '80s and '90s with the ugly clothing and bad rapping taught all of us that nothing and no one really matters. And that at the end of the day, the work that you have done is much more important than the work you have never done, but wanted to.
Stop being such cowards and just write and do shit, shoot films or play songs or whatever the fuck. No one gives a fuck about you, so revel in it and do what you love, because only you will love your own work. You will regret not taking the plunge than taking it and finding that you got a bit wet, or bumped your head on a rock.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
2012 Part II
Well, we did it. We're in 2013.
Already, I feel things inside my head settling down. I have a direction for myself. I have a 'what', which I assigned myself.
I have yet to sort out the how and who, but I believe it will all be made clear in the next few weeks.
What I've learned in 2012 is that time is wealth. Real wealth. I can get as many jobs as I want to, and I'm not being arrogant or vain. There is always work, and I have always respected my work.
I don't know and don't care about other people and what they value. I don't even care enough to speculate. For me, doing the work and doing it right, within the given time limit is the most important thing. This is integrity, that when you promise something, you deliver.
I have only once in my 9 year career have failed to meet a deadline given by a client. It still stays with me, and it still stings. The fact that the lost opportunities meant a real loss of RM78,000 for me personally makes it more so.
But.
We live and learn.
And never make the same fucking mistakes. 2012 was a year for experimentation for me. A lot of the experiments failed, and I hope I have learned something from things and that new collaborations and sifting through the sludge would get me glitters that could turn out to be gold. Hopefully.
If I could describe myself to anyone, it would be that I am an eternal student. I constantly pick up new skills and knowledge, new way to do things, as I adapt my thinking to how people do it.
It is strange, I believe. My family is made up of teachers, but I grew up to become a student of whatever I believe is interesting. I am glad that I do not know everything because that means there are things I can still learn.
My methods are quite risky. I throw myself into things until I hit walls, obstacles and find out the limits of my environment, the people around me and also my own shortcomings and limitations.
All this training, this grinding for experience, the failures and triumphs - for what? I like to imagine I am preparing myself for something. All the knowledge and skill and network I have accumulated over the years point to a solution to a problem. But which one?
Only time will tell. Now, let's go off to the next HIGH ADVENTURE.
Already, I feel things inside my head settling down. I have a direction for myself. I have a 'what', which I assigned myself.
I have yet to sort out the how and who, but I believe it will all be made clear in the next few weeks.
What I've learned in 2012 is that time is wealth. Real wealth. I can get as many jobs as I want to, and I'm not being arrogant or vain. There is always work, and I have always respected my work.
I don't know and don't care about other people and what they value. I don't even care enough to speculate. For me, doing the work and doing it right, within the given time limit is the most important thing. This is integrity, that when you promise something, you deliver.
I have only once in my 9 year career have failed to meet a deadline given by a client. It still stays with me, and it still stings. The fact that the lost opportunities meant a real loss of RM78,000 for me personally makes it more so.
But.
We live and learn.
And never make the same fucking mistakes. 2012 was a year for experimentation for me. A lot of the experiments failed, and I hope I have learned something from things and that new collaborations and sifting through the sludge would get me glitters that could turn out to be gold. Hopefully.
If I could describe myself to anyone, it would be that I am an eternal student. I constantly pick up new skills and knowledge, new way to do things, as I adapt my thinking to how people do it.
It is strange, I believe. My family is made up of teachers, but I grew up to become a student of whatever I believe is interesting. I am glad that I do not know everything because that means there are things I can still learn.
My methods are quite risky. I throw myself into things until I hit walls, obstacles and find out the limits of my environment, the people around me and also my own shortcomings and limitations.
All this training, this grinding for experience, the failures and triumphs - for what? I like to imagine I am preparing myself for something. All the knowledge and skill and network I have accumulated over the years point to a solution to a problem. But which one?
Only time will tell. Now, let's go off to the next HIGH ADVENTURE.
Monday, December 31, 2012
2012 Part I
This year has been about escalating violence and stupidity. The world didn't end on Dec 21, but seeing what has happened in the world these past few months, I wonder whether it should have.
A young man took weapons to a school, shot and killed 26 people, 20 of them kids between 6-7 years old.
Meanwhile, a 23-year-old Indian woman was kidnapped, raped and beaten, then thrown off a bus.
Her 6 rapists inserted a metal rod into her, either through her vagina or anus, far enough to cause abdominal infection.
And yet she was lucid enough to give a testimony to the authorities that many believe don't really care about upholding the law and protecting the innocent. She died due to her severe injuries.
I read that her ordeal - the rape and the beating - lasted over an hour. And she was just coming out of a cinema. She just wanted to see a movie, as those kids in Sandy Brooks probably were just looking forward to recess.
All this, framed by the war in Gaza.
I see echos here in Malaysia. I'm not the cleanest guy around. In fact, I once grabbed a girl's ass in a pub, intoxicated I was with youth, stupidity and other things. But I do worry for a society - our society - that would say all a woman needs is a dick in her vagina, or that women who dress sexy are just asking for a metal rod shoved up her butt and into her intestines.
It saddens me that religion has been abused to commit these crimes. Gaza, India, the US, even here. Religion has been abused and misinterpreted so that people focus on things like dress codes and periods and semi-magic rituals and spell-casting rather than peace, tolerance, and all the other gay crap.
I mean, in Malaysia, a lot of Muslims are spending most of their 'religion time' to tell other people that they're doing religion the wrong way, like what I'm doing right now. They tell others how they pray, and how some inflections are correct, or they fight over the name of God. For what? Do you really believe God gives a flying fuck?
As a Malay man, I know I can get away with a lot of stuff. A LOT of stuff. I take my business elsewhere, though, in order to ensure I do not descend into becoming those six monkeys in that bus. Does that make me better than you, you might be wondering? I dunno. I never shoved a metal rod up people's asses. Not literally.
It's not about whether I am better or whether you are better. That's purely egotistical. I just wish that we, as a species, have had enough.
On a more personal front, my father's condition has deteriorated. I once witnessed how my grandparents got old and now I am seeing the same thing with my father.
We get old, we get ugly, we lose those things that we think make us who we are, and then we die. Nothing lasts forever.
Even more personal, I was going through perhaps the worst period of the year in the past few months. I felt the dark vibes and there was really nothing more I could do about it other than stand my ground and take care of what I can.
I'm glad 2012 is ending. I got plans for next year, for 2013. I know the what, but have yet to firm up the how and the who.
A young man took weapons to a school, shot and killed 26 people, 20 of them kids between 6-7 years old.
Meanwhile, a 23-year-old Indian woman was kidnapped, raped and beaten, then thrown off a bus.
Her 6 rapists inserted a metal rod into her, either through her vagina or anus, far enough to cause abdominal infection.
And yet she was lucid enough to give a testimony to the authorities that many believe don't really care about upholding the law and protecting the innocent. She died due to her severe injuries.
I read that her ordeal - the rape and the beating - lasted over an hour. And she was just coming out of a cinema. She just wanted to see a movie, as those kids in Sandy Brooks probably were just looking forward to recess.
All this, framed by the war in Gaza.
I see echos here in Malaysia. I'm not the cleanest guy around. In fact, I once grabbed a girl's ass in a pub, intoxicated I was with youth, stupidity and other things. But I do worry for a society - our society - that would say all a woman needs is a dick in her vagina, or that women who dress sexy are just asking for a metal rod shoved up her butt and into her intestines.
It saddens me that religion has been abused to commit these crimes. Gaza, India, the US, even here. Religion has been abused and misinterpreted so that people focus on things like dress codes and periods and semi-magic rituals and spell-casting rather than peace, tolerance, and all the other gay crap.
I mean, in Malaysia, a lot of Muslims are spending most of their 'religion time' to tell other people that they're doing religion the wrong way, like what I'm doing right now. They tell others how they pray, and how some inflections are correct, or they fight over the name of God. For what? Do you really believe God gives a flying fuck?
As a Malay man, I know I can get away with a lot of stuff. A LOT of stuff. I take my business elsewhere, though, in order to ensure I do not descend into becoming those six monkeys in that bus. Does that make me better than you, you might be wondering? I dunno. I never shoved a metal rod up people's asses. Not literally.
It's not about whether I am better or whether you are better. That's purely egotistical. I just wish that we, as a species, have had enough.
On a more personal front, my father's condition has deteriorated. I once witnessed how my grandparents got old and now I am seeing the same thing with my father.
We get old, we get ugly, we lose those things that we think make us who we are, and then we die. Nothing lasts forever.
Even more personal, I was going through perhaps the worst period of the year in the past few months. I felt the dark vibes and there was really nothing more I could do about it other than stand my ground and take care of what I can.
I'm glad 2012 is ending. I got plans for next year, for 2013. I know the what, but have yet to firm up the how and the who.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Flu Fighter: There Is Nothing Left To Lose
I woke up, boosted myself with as much vitamin C as I could, pumped up the multi-vitamins, and went to work.
My head felt like it was wrapped in a towel and I just don't give a fuck anymore.
I still managed to do all my tasks, on time and as well as I could. I still honour my work. However, I would be lying if I say that I didn't think of just lying down on a bed somewhere and just give myself an overdose of morphine.
Got an SMS about an assignment at 8pm. There was no one else, so I went to The Curve, packing a 7D and a 9mm semi-automatic.
Met Amir Muhammad who said, "It is better to do something you love than do something else that would get you to spend time doing something you love." And also, "Time is wealth" or some shit.
Went to the assignment, did my shit and went for dinner. I had some soupy stuff cause I could feel the fever getting stronger. Also bought some vitamin C and zinc, cause Neil Gaiman wrote about a character who said his aunt swore on vitamin C and zinc. And also that 'appointments are only by telephone' or some other such nonsense.
I went home around 11pm, feeling shitty as the fever got higher. The Guardian pharmacy at The Curve closes its prescription thing at 7pm, so fuck that shit. I know I need Clarinase or Actifed, but I think I'll get it tomorrow, if I am strong enough to get out of bed.
I know enough of pharmaceuticals to self-medicate. If I go to the clinic tomorrow, the doctors will only give me Actifed, Mucosolvan, maybe Difflam and also Benadryl. Rather, Bena-expectorant - the generic version of Benadryl. I'll also get Bactrim - an antibiotics which treats upper-respiratory tract bacteria. Some overzealous doctors might prescribe flagyl, an antibiotic which treats vaginal bacteria.
All of this are stupid, because flus are caused by rhinoviruses. Yep. Viruses. Antibiotics - something to kill bacteria - would only be for my swollen and possibly infected throat.
But that's just medication for my body. What about my soul? I burned out months ago.
Ah, small matter. I have already put into place certain ideas and things that will grow and the gears will turn, in an unstoppable revolution. Pretty soon, I'll be off on another HIGH ADVENTURE.
By Crom, I shall carve my own kingdom with my two hands and wear my crown upon a troubled brow. I have some time, and I don't give a flying fuck.
My head felt like it was wrapped in a towel and I just don't give a fuck anymore.
I still managed to do all my tasks, on time and as well as I could. I still honour my work. However, I would be lying if I say that I didn't think of just lying down on a bed somewhere and just give myself an overdose of morphine.
Got an SMS about an assignment at 8pm. There was no one else, so I went to The Curve, packing a 7D and a 9mm semi-automatic.
Met Amir Muhammad who said, "It is better to do something you love than do something else that would get you to spend time doing something you love." And also, "Time is wealth" or some shit.
Went to the assignment, did my shit and went for dinner. I had some soupy stuff cause I could feel the fever getting stronger. Also bought some vitamin C and zinc, cause Neil Gaiman wrote about a character who said his aunt swore on vitamin C and zinc. And also that 'appointments are only by telephone' or some other such nonsense.
I went home around 11pm, feeling shitty as the fever got higher. The Guardian pharmacy at The Curve closes its prescription thing at 7pm, so fuck that shit. I know I need Clarinase or Actifed, but I think I'll get it tomorrow, if I am strong enough to get out of bed.
I know enough of pharmaceuticals to self-medicate. If I go to the clinic tomorrow, the doctors will only give me Actifed, Mucosolvan, maybe Difflam and also Benadryl. Rather, Bena-expectorant - the generic version of Benadryl. I'll also get Bactrim - an antibiotics which treats upper-respiratory tract bacteria. Some overzealous doctors might prescribe flagyl, an antibiotic which treats vaginal bacteria.
All of this are stupid, because flus are caused by rhinoviruses. Yep. Viruses. Antibiotics - something to kill bacteria - would only be for my swollen and possibly infected throat.
But that's just medication for my body. What about my soul? I burned out months ago.
Ah, small matter. I have already put into place certain ideas and things that will grow and the gears will turn, in an unstoppable revolution. Pretty soon, I'll be off on another HIGH ADVENTURE.
By Crom, I shall carve my own kingdom with my two hands and wear my crown upon a troubled brow. I have some time, and I don't give a flying fuck.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Flu Fighter: Learn to Fly
I haven't been feeling well since Christmas Eve, and I fear this sore throat I have will result in me being bed-ridden by the end of the week.
I still need to go to the office, because without me, nothing happens. It pisses and frustrates me that this is so, but it is as it is.
I had a long chat with a friend about equity share last night, and we soon got down to talking about dreams. My friend is almost obsessed with the idea of being great, of having great achievements.
"Do you have any dreams of being great?" he asked, with this hopeful glint in his eyes.
I shook my head.
"My dreams are very modest. I wish to be left alone as I write books. Everything I do - all of it - is simply to buy my freedom and purchase my time from the world so I could sit down and write, not worrying about food, rent or the Internet bill."
And that is the truth. Some people have dreams of whatever. I only want freedom. My friend and I have figured out that to get the necessary funds to retire, working for people is not the best way forward.
Imagine you have a job that pays you RM20,000 a month. Imagine that you spend RM10,000 a month and manage to save - in a Herculean effort, RM10,000 a month. At the end of the year, you would have RM120,000. Now, being humans, and this is especially true for Malays, you may take RM20,000 and buy shit you don't need, like a vacation, hookers, pay your mistress, get a big bouncing car, rims or splash it on bullshit.
That leaves you RM100,000. You need to work 10 years to hit RM1 million. And then, to reach my goal of RM2 million, that's 20 fucking years.
And what do you have to do, in order to earn RM20,000 a month? How many asses do you have to kiss? How many idiots do you have to tolerate? Who do you have to kill in order to get RM20,000 a month?
I'm not making RM20,000 a month right now. And I am the greatest mind of the 21st Century. Who the fuck are you? A politician? A liar?
Things that hold me back are my code of ethics which I follow simply because I do not wear a turban or pretend to be pious. If I pretended to be pious, I assure you I could fuck as many 12-year-olds as I could ever want - I just don't want to because I am not a pedophile.
I know more about religion than anyone I know. I know more about Islam than PAS people. I know more about Christianity than most people, and I know enough of Buddhism to tell you that 'Buddhists' in Malaysia have combined Buddhism with ancestral worship.
Buddha was not and is not a God. He never claimed to be one. The word Buddha simply means 'the enlightened one', which is very similar to Jose Mourinho calling himself 'the Special One'.
I retain 70% of what I heard and learned. People try to lie to me constantly, but my mind is like a tape recorder with detailed minutes of each conversation. This is why I hate liars. I can never work with liars. SO fuck liars.
I am embarking on the next stage of my journey in 2013. I don't know where it will take me. I just know enough that I will fall into depression again if I am not working towards my one true goal - freedom.
I still need to go to the office, because without me, nothing happens. It pisses and frustrates me that this is so, but it is as it is.
I had a long chat with a friend about equity share last night, and we soon got down to talking about dreams. My friend is almost obsessed with the idea of being great, of having great achievements.
"Do you have any dreams of being great?" he asked, with this hopeful glint in his eyes.
I shook my head.
"My dreams are very modest. I wish to be left alone as I write books. Everything I do - all of it - is simply to buy my freedom and purchase my time from the world so I could sit down and write, not worrying about food, rent or the Internet bill."
And that is the truth. Some people have dreams of whatever. I only want freedom. My friend and I have figured out that to get the necessary funds to retire, working for people is not the best way forward.
Imagine you have a job that pays you RM20,000 a month. Imagine that you spend RM10,000 a month and manage to save - in a Herculean effort, RM10,000 a month. At the end of the year, you would have RM120,000. Now, being humans, and this is especially true for Malays, you may take RM20,000 and buy shit you don't need, like a vacation, hookers, pay your mistress, get a big bouncing car, rims or splash it on bullshit.
That leaves you RM100,000. You need to work 10 years to hit RM1 million. And then, to reach my goal of RM2 million, that's 20 fucking years.
And what do you have to do, in order to earn RM20,000 a month? How many asses do you have to kiss? How many idiots do you have to tolerate? Who do you have to kill in order to get RM20,000 a month?
I'm not making RM20,000 a month right now. And I am the greatest mind of the 21st Century. Who the fuck are you? A politician? A liar?
Things that hold me back are my code of ethics which I follow simply because I do not wear a turban or pretend to be pious. If I pretended to be pious, I assure you I could fuck as many 12-year-olds as I could ever want - I just don't want to because I am not a pedophile.
I know more about religion than anyone I know. I know more about Islam than PAS people. I know more about Christianity than most people, and I know enough of Buddhism to tell you that 'Buddhists' in Malaysia have combined Buddhism with ancestral worship.
Buddha was not and is not a God. He never claimed to be one. The word Buddha simply means 'the enlightened one', which is very similar to Jose Mourinho calling himself 'the Special One'.
I retain 70% of what I heard and learned. People try to lie to me constantly, but my mind is like a tape recorder with detailed minutes of each conversation. This is why I hate liars. I can never work with liars. SO fuck liars.
I am embarking on the next stage of my journey in 2013. I don't know where it will take me. I just know enough that I will fall into depression again if I am not working towards my one true goal - freedom.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Kamen Rider Decade
Next year, in May, I will celebrate my 10 years in the industry. I have been in the media for 10 years.
I often compare notes with engineers, lawyers and the occasional sales people from outside my industry to better understand the world we live in.
A lot of my close friends have left the country, as I mentioned in previous posts. I sometimes wonder, why am I still here? Whenever I get depressed with Malaysia, I would seek out jobs with the UN. Their pay scale is rather attractive and I have always been interested in saving the world, having suffered from a superhero complex stemming from guilt since I was 17.
When I was 17, I finally realised that my high school was a hotbed for abuse and a small social experiment oh what the world would be like if it was run entirely by men, superstition and a compliance to an imagined authority. I felt guilty for not knowing that I was part of such a hellish system, so I developed a superhero complex.
It's not been an easy life, but I am not here to whine.
I focus on the present so I could safeguard the future. So I look to the past for lessons learned. In this past 10 years, I have learned that everywhere is the same. I constantly meet the same people over and over again. The same TYPES of people, doing practically the same thing.
The only way for me to effectively change my environment from unwanted elements is to establish control of that environment. Most humans in Malaysia shirk responsibility. They don't want to decide, or take ownership of anything. I don't know where the fear comes from, but it is distinctly Malaysian.
In terms of skills and knowledge, I have always busied myself observing how people work. My degree was in computer science, not mass comm or public relations, so in order to understand anything, I needed to shut up and observe.
One of my first editors convinced me that all the basic skills in journalism are simply common sense, and that common sense can be applied to any position, any task and any sort of work. I threw myself into lots of unfamiliar territories in the past decade, showing no fear - sometimes unwisely - and getting a whole bunch of mixed results. I've had some unbelievable successes and heart-wrenching failures, and sometimes I imagine that I have learned from those things.
In the first two years of my career, I accumulated debt. Credit cards fucked me up. Actually, I fucked myself up using credit cards to buy comic books. I used to spend anywhere between RM200-500 a month on comic books. It took me five years to pay off my credit cards. Three years to procrastinate, and two to do something about it.
I worked like a motherfucker for a year, during a period when I had insomnia, and managed to pay off everything.
I used to take on any jobs, simply because I wanted to learn how to do things. I've never been afraid of hard work, in my youth, and saw those extra tasks as an opportunity to improve myself by acquiring more skills and knowledge by doing things.
Nowadays, growing older, I know I can't do anything and everything that's pushed my way. I need to choose and at this stage, I believe I can choose.
I come from the swamp, so I consider myself very lucky to have lasted this long in the big city. I also made and stuck with the decision to avoid drugs altogether. Drugs fucked up some people in my hometown. I knew then that if I were to do the same, knowing my addictive personality and my tendency to overdo things, I would be dead in three months.
Some people think I took drugs to write. Bitch, please. This is real talent right here. I'm not Lance Armstrong. Wank wank!
I did suffer from insomnia, though. It wasn't good at all.
Anyway, in my 10 years, which is not even half the experience with some people I work with, I have managed a tour of the media industry which included everything from newspapers, magazines, TV, film and now social as well as new media. The only medium I have never worked with is radio.
As for personal development, I have found my spiritual whatever in the non-magic texts of orthodox religions. I really have a problem when people treat religion as some sort of Harry Potter Magic Textbook or grimoire. I don't believe in magic. I just don't. I think that is abusing and misusing what religion was originally intended for - a manual to calm the fuck down.
Some humans need religion to keep them from being animals - stupid, evil and/or greedy. The Jewish beliefs have this thing called the Tree of Sefirot, which lists God, Angels and Humans as three levels of being. The tree has branches and each branch represents an attribute or feature for each of the three.
Some traditional religions have 'enlightenment stages' such as the arhant, the boddhisativa and the Buddha.
In Islam, I believe a lot of the things are philosophical and are in line with most other faiths. However, the closed nature of most Muslims have made these similarities less obvious, in an attempt to feel special or victimised, or special due to being victims.
Oh well. Fuck that.
I better get some sleep, or I might develop insomnia again.
I often compare notes with engineers, lawyers and the occasional sales people from outside my industry to better understand the world we live in.
A lot of my close friends have left the country, as I mentioned in previous posts. I sometimes wonder, why am I still here? Whenever I get depressed with Malaysia, I would seek out jobs with the UN. Their pay scale is rather attractive and I have always been interested in saving the world, having suffered from a superhero complex stemming from guilt since I was 17.
When I was 17, I finally realised that my high school was a hotbed for abuse and a small social experiment oh what the world would be like if it was run entirely by men, superstition and a compliance to an imagined authority. I felt guilty for not knowing that I was part of such a hellish system, so I developed a superhero complex.
It's not been an easy life, but I am not here to whine.
I focus on the present so I could safeguard the future. So I look to the past for lessons learned. In this past 10 years, I have learned that everywhere is the same. I constantly meet the same people over and over again. The same TYPES of people, doing practically the same thing.
The only way for me to effectively change my environment from unwanted elements is to establish control of that environment. Most humans in Malaysia shirk responsibility. They don't want to decide, or take ownership of anything. I don't know where the fear comes from, but it is distinctly Malaysian.
In terms of skills and knowledge, I have always busied myself observing how people work. My degree was in computer science, not mass comm or public relations, so in order to understand anything, I needed to shut up and observe.
One of my first editors convinced me that all the basic skills in journalism are simply common sense, and that common sense can be applied to any position, any task and any sort of work. I threw myself into lots of unfamiliar territories in the past decade, showing no fear - sometimes unwisely - and getting a whole bunch of mixed results. I've had some unbelievable successes and heart-wrenching failures, and sometimes I imagine that I have learned from those things.
In the first two years of my career, I accumulated debt. Credit cards fucked me up. Actually, I fucked myself up using credit cards to buy comic books. I used to spend anywhere between RM200-500 a month on comic books. It took me five years to pay off my credit cards. Three years to procrastinate, and two to do something about it.
I worked like a motherfucker for a year, during a period when I had insomnia, and managed to pay off everything.
I used to take on any jobs, simply because I wanted to learn how to do things. I've never been afraid of hard work, in my youth, and saw those extra tasks as an opportunity to improve myself by acquiring more skills and knowledge by doing things.
Nowadays, growing older, I know I can't do anything and everything that's pushed my way. I need to choose and at this stage, I believe I can choose.
I come from the swamp, so I consider myself very lucky to have lasted this long in the big city. I also made and stuck with the decision to avoid drugs altogether. Drugs fucked up some people in my hometown. I knew then that if I were to do the same, knowing my addictive personality and my tendency to overdo things, I would be dead in three months.
Some people think I took drugs to write. Bitch, please. This is real talent right here. I'm not Lance Armstrong. Wank wank!
I did suffer from insomnia, though. It wasn't good at all.
Anyway, in my 10 years, which is not even half the experience with some people I work with, I have managed a tour of the media industry which included everything from newspapers, magazines, TV, film and now social as well as new media. The only medium I have never worked with is radio.
As for personal development, I have found my spiritual whatever in the non-magic texts of orthodox religions. I really have a problem when people treat religion as some sort of Harry Potter Magic Textbook or grimoire. I don't believe in magic. I just don't. I think that is abusing and misusing what religion was originally intended for - a manual to calm the fuck down.
Some humans need religion to keep them from being animals - stupid, evil and/or greedy. The Jewish beliefs have this thing called the Tree of Sefirot, which lists God, Angels and Humans as three levels of being. The tree has branches and each branch represents an attribute or feature for each of the three.
Some traditional religions have 'enlightenment stages' such as the arhant, the boddhisativa and the Buddha.
In Islam, I believe a lot of the things are philosophical and are in line with most other faiths. However, the closed nature of most Muslims have made these similarities less obvious, in an attempt to feel special or victimised, or special due to being victims.
Oh well. Fuck that.
I better get some sleep, or I might develop insomnia again.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Tales from the Drunk Side: COCKs, DICKs and PENISes.
As we all look towards the end of the year and the start of a new one, I begin to wonder as well as plan for next year's activities.
I am doing way too much, so I am thinking of stopping some activities to allow proper focus on others.
I believe that it is time for me to stop writing other people's scripts and focus entirely on my own stories, for film. I have so many stories to tell and not enough of a lifetime to write them all. I want to write novels next year.
I am also planning to go into business properly and set up another company. I believe that in my lifetime, I will probably set up three companies in my lifetime, and this would be the second after the first one in 2006.
I believe I also need a new acronym for my role. Something along the lines of Professional Expert on National Information Services (PENIS). I find it hilarious if such an acronym for that position is made commonplace. Corporate people love their jargon so .
PBT, EBITDA, ARPU, ROI, PATAMI, CEO, COO and the like. Why not PENIS?
"I need to send this report to the PENIS!"
"Hello, I would like to speak to your PENIS. It's regarding the budget."
"The PENIS is entirely responsible for the execution of this project, so all of you fuck off."
Or maybe DICK - Director of Internet Communications and Knowledge.
"Amir Hafizi is the best DICK in town."
"What do you do for a living, Amir?" "I'm a DICK, bitch!"
Or how about COCK? Consultant - Online Communications and Knowledge.
"What are your qualifications?" "I'm the best COCK in town, bitch!"
"Oh My God! Our company needs your help right now. I need to speak to your COCK!" "Here I am, bitch." "Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My Godddd!"
I also plan to lose another 20kg, after I shake off this depression. Am not really that depressed anymore, after I figured out what I want and need to do.
The first is always the 'what'. Money. Novels. Films. Whatever. Next comes the 'how'. Execution, operations. I've always been a 'how' guy and I respect people who have huge respect for their work. I also take processes seriously, with the ultimate aim of improving them by eliminating steps in any and all processes. I am not impressed at all by conmen and liars because they always do and say stupid things and expect you to believe them, thinking you are as stupid or stupider than them.
I am also equally annoyed with people who believe just because they lie, I would as well. I have never told a lie. I have used smokescreens and omission of details or manipulated the timing of information, but have never told an outright lie.
For example, knowing the stalking nature of people who think social media is a great source for insight into verbose and expressive people like me, I have bombarded the Internet with non-vital information about myself. Yes, I have filled it with shit. If it really matters, why would I put it up?
I have never even uploaded a picture of myself on anything public. All of my pictures on Facebook, for example, were taken and tagged by other people, sometimes with smug superiority that they could take a picture of me. I have been very careful not to release any details out, but some people are just pathetic. I said some, so don't think it's you, it's the other ones.
I have also had my photo taken by a few homosexuals who believe I am one of them. One of them constantly calls me at 4pm every day last week. I don't know why, because 4pm is when some meetings occur and I had to to tell them to call me at another time. While I owe some training to gay people and am indebted to them for many things, I am afraid I am not gay.
Nothing wrong with gay people. In fact, I believe in supporting homosexuality, which means reduced competition for heteros like me, as well as more hot lesbian action.
Anyone and everyone who have ever tried to manipulate me are all dead. Figuratively. I no longer think about them. They simply do not exist.
I have met and am meeting some extremely smart people, and with it comes a different challenge.
Oh well.
I will cut my teeth with cold, hard business, with an aim of retiring, realistically, before I'm 40. The stretch target is before 35.
I have learned a lot about humans in my nine year career in the media. Most of the time, I prefer machines. There is only one breed of humans I do not understand - idiots. My process is to get into people's heads and find out how they work, how they see things and why they do what they do. With idiots, if I replicate the process, I am afraid of doing the same with their inferior, animalistic brains.
I lump racists, masochists, chauvinists, Femi-Nazis, freeloaders and the insecure in the same category as idiots, perhaps idiots as their genus and each a different species of the same shit.
The insecure fucks have made quite a splash in my world this year. I understand that the sheer capacity my brain holds, and my giganormous talents (with an 'S') would cause any person with a well-developed ego to shake in their knees, but some things are getting ridiculous.
I mean, talentS such as my own only exists once in a millennium I am the greatest mind of the 21st Century. I just need to focus on what I want to do, and I am very confident that it will be done. Or not. An enlightened genius such as myself would not bother with past failures other than as 'things to avoid doing' later on, in future projects.
I am a gift to the world. You are not. Learn to live with that. And suck my dick.
I am doing way too much, so I am thinking of stopping some activities to allow proper focus on others.
I believe that it is time for me to stop writing other people's scripts and focus entirely on my own stories, for film. I have so many stories to tell and not enough of a lifetime to write them all. I want to write novels next year.
I am also planning to go into business properly and set up another company. I believe that in my lifetime, I will probably set up three companies in my lifetime, and this would be the second after the first one in 2006.
I believe I also need a new acronym for my role. Something along the lines of Professional Expert on National Information Services (PENIS). I find it hilarious if such an acronym for that position is made commonplace. Corporate people love their jargon so .
PBT, EBITDA, ARPU, ROI, PATAMI, CEO, COO and the like. Why not PENIS?
"I need to send this report to the PENIS!"
"Hello, I would like to speak to your PENIS. It's regarding the budget."
"The PENIS is entirely responsible for the execution of this project, so all of you fuck off."
Or maybe DICK - Director of Internet Communications and Knowledge.
"Amir Hafizi is the best DICK in town."
"What do you do for a living, Amir?" "I'm a DICK, bitch!"
Or how about COCK? Consultant - Online Communications and Knowledge.
"What are your qualifications?" "I'm the best COCK in town, bitch!"
"Oh My God! Our company needs your help right now. I need to speak to your COCK!" "Here I am, bitch." "Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My Godddd!"
I also plan to lose another 20kg, after I shake off this depression. Am not really that depressed anymore, after I figured out what I want and need to do.
The first is always the 'what'. Money. Novels. Films. Whatever. Next comes the 'how'. Execution, operations. I've always been a 'how' guy and I respect people who have huge respect for their work. I also take processes seriously, with the ultimate aim of improving them by eliminating steps in any and all processes. I am not impressed at all by conmen and liars because they always do and say stupid things and expect you to believe them, thinking you are as stupid or stupider than them.
I am also equally annoyed with people who believe just because they lie, I would as well. I have never told a lie. I have used smokescreens and omission of details or manipulated the timing of information, but have never told an outright lie.
For example, knowing the stalking nature of people who think social media is a great source for insight into verbose and expressive people like me, I have bombarded the Internet with non-vital information about myself. Yes, I have filled it with shit. If it really matters, why would I put it up?
I have never even uploaded a picture of myself on anything public. All of my pictures on Facebook, for example, were taken and tagged by other people, sometimes with smug superiority that they could take a picture of me. I have been very careful not to release any details out, but some people are just pathetic. I said some, so don't think it's you, it's the other ones.
I have also had my photo taken by a few homosexuals who believe I am one of them. One of them constantly calls me at 4pm every day last week. I don't know why, because 4pm is when some meetings occur and I had to to tell them to call me at another time. While I owe some training to gay people and am indebted to them for many things, I am afraid I am not gay.
Nothing wrong with gay people. In fact, I believe in supporting homosexuality, which means reduced competition for heteros like me, as well as more hot lesbian action.
Anyone and everyone who have ever tried to manipulate me are all dead. Figuratively. I no longer think about them. They simply do not exist.
I have met and am meeting some extremely smart people, and with it comes a different challenge.
Oh well.
I will cut my teeth with cold, hard business, with an aim of retiring, realistically, before I'm 40. The stretch target is before 35.
I have learned a lot about humans in my nine year career in the media. Most of the time, I prefer machines. There is only one breed of humans I do not understand - idiots. My process is to get into people's heads and find out how they work, how they see things and why they do what they do. With idiots, if I replicate the process, I am afraid of doing the same with their inferior, animalistic brains.
I lump racists, masochists, chauvinists, Femi-Nazis, freeloaders and the insecure in the same category as idiots, perhaps idiots as their genus and each a different species of the same shit.
The insecure fucks have made quite a splash in my world this year. I understand that the sheer capacity my brain holds, and my giganormous talents (with an 'S') would cause any person with a well-developed ego to shake in their knees, but some things are getting ridiculous.
I mean, talentS such as my own only exists once in a millennium I am the greatest mind of the 21st Century. I just need to focus on what I want to do, and I am very confident that it will be done. Or not. An enlightened genius such as myself would not bother with past failures other than as 'things to avoid doing' later on, in future projects.
I am a gift to the world. You are not. Learn to live with that. And suck my dick.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
The Last Dinosaur
Caption: PICTURE IS UNRELATED
My family is in town.
I spent some time with them today, at a hotel somewhere in the middle of the city. I could barely manage the time, because there are loads of work that still needs to be done.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only concerned about work. But that's another story, for a tell-all book that would wrap up this trilogy I have inside my head.
I took leave for today and Monday, in the hopes of recalibrating my workload and regroup, mentally. These past six months have been wrought with constant change, just not in the way I want.
My family being here is also putting my stress levels through the roof. I find no enjoyment from family. I don't believe families are necessary and I find it hard to understand why humans want to imitate viruses.
I had an argument with a teacher, once, about the polural form of viruses. She said it was virii, and I said it was viruses because going by her logic, it would mean that the plural for buses would be bi, throwing the meaning of the word bisexual as someone who likes to fuck buses.
Coming from a family of teachers, I know about the Malaysian Education System more than the average Malaysia. I found out that we are adopting the failed American system, with none of the things that work.
Nowadays, students are assigned 'bands' which are skill sets. You progress by showing you can fulfill certain skills as defined by 'bands'.
The problem is, some schools might lie, saying "Oh yes, our students can read Shakespeare or Shaxbird or some shit." when in reality, those kids might not even be able to spell 'chicken' as anything other than 'KFC'.
At its heart, the band system should wean students off the convoluted and outdated exam system, the British curriculum, which is Latin for 'chariot horse' because students race to see who scores higher to get into pole position.
I've often believed that those who score in the bottom 2 percent should be shot or chemically castrated, so as not to spoil the gene pool with such inferior minds. I deal with idiocy everyday, especially at queues because some monkeys have yet to learn that society and the social contract breaks down when you become selfish and a burden to others.
I have refused to allow idiots get in my way, but I am sensing that even our top people enable idiocy so as to ensure political victory.
I have no faith in the future, with the economy, education and society developing as it is. I also find Malaysians turning into a spoiled, namby-pamby nation of howler monkeys. But that's just me, the old man, the last dinosaur.
I hope, in the next few months, to secure a change of environment because I feel the current one has become mean-spirited, cold and bleak.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Whatever
As a high-level functioning sociopath, I am not surprised at all that I fell into depression, AGAIN.
Being the greatest mind of the 21st Century means I am well aware of everything, including - especially - the bad stuff. I understand the evil that lurks in the hearts of men. Like The Shadow.
Once, years ago, I made a wish that I would understand people. That wish was granted, and like Martian Manhunter, I was overwhelmed by the erratic, dark thoughts of humans.
Depression impairs my ability to write and I find myself falling behind writing deadlines. However, while my work in creative projects suffer, depression also pushes my mind into other parts of problem-solving.
I see now what I must do to solve one of my outstanding issues - how to get RM2 million and retire quickly before I become one of them. One of the lifers. Before I lose all interest in creating things and just maintain stuff. Before I get swallowed by the machine.
Most people don't understand that the only thing I have ever wanted to do was and is to write. I tolerate other things so that I can afford to. Writing is not that profitable here in this country, and writers often have to take on day jobs so they could write what they like during their free time.
Trust-fund babies and rich people don't count. It's the swamp-rats like me who have pushed and pushed so that we could find some time to practice our craft. And not starve doing it.
I once tried to get some writers together so we could form a union like the Screenwriters Guild of America. However, only three people showed up. None of us wanted to sacrifice our time from writing to do the necessary evil of organising everyone into one strong and solid hammer.
Everyone works in solitude, and every writer stands alone. Forever and always.
Oh well.
I know of several endings to the path I walk, and I have enough balls to inch my way ever so closer to my goal - freedom from money and financial bondage so I could write whatever the fuck I want, whenever I want to, however I want to do it.
And for the first time in personal history, I'm doing this entirely for myself.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
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