Sometimes I give myself the creeps,
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me,
It all keeps adding up,
I think I'm cracking up!
Am I just paranoid?
Am I just stoned?
~Green Day, Basket Case
At this time, I used to enjoy the sight of the kids flying kites. It’s a nice view. From this office, there are no kids. There are instead, Lamborghinis and Ferraris and Range Rovers at Loewy. Very tempting.
Tomorrow’s going to be a long day and tonight’s going to be another long night. I didn’t go to watch the game last night but apparently Man U lost and something else happened. I was at home, in bed, on the phone with someone dreaming things that never was. Today is always a good day to find out.
The weekend looks tight. Sunday is shit with a few of that creepy business to take care but we’ll be taking the dog away on the saturday, lose the phone and just chill somewhere. I want to read and write a little.
She told me a story of a girl looking for shelter in New York City. I know too many people seeking shelter in New York City. I hope Lil Sis is okay though. It’ll be nice to be able to go to NYC to work on this for a few days. Will talk to Sam when she’s here.
Cavs chance of making it into the finals is diminishing. Is Lebron just another Kobe? He looks the part. Damn. We’ve another game tomorrow, I’m hoping my knees would be better then (I knocked it about two weeks ago and been benched for the last few games).
And uh, the SBY Indomie TVC, wtf?
Well, all that and the world is tethering on a nuclear clash.
Have a good week all.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
on Bells and Whistles
Many years ago, I met her and I asked myself the same set of questions. This was madness then just as it is madness now.
Many years ago, it would’ve been mad to be in love with her. That holds true just as much, today. It just would’ve been completely mad.
I’m 30 years old and single. Divorced and abandoned, in the city along with twelve million other of the world’s poorest, a five bedroom house with four maids and full time security guards and a dog. I work with information. Technology, media and telco and other nerdy stuff. I write stuff. I’m compulsively opinionated and my ex wife accused me of bipolar disorder (she is certifiably sane).
This blog never uses names. Nor dates or places or anything else identifiable to people other than meself. That doesn’t make it less true, but it’s not exactly a historical account. Things happened the way I thought they happened. You may call it fiction, I call it memories.
Faulty, just as any of your own.
I was out in a corner pub in Pondok Indah. The last thing I remembered was Claudia Bella, the cute little actress, looking hot as hell sitting on the next table. Her laughs sounded very ugly but she was nothing less than stunning.
The people on my table, however, were peculiar and rather engaging. Bella was a distraction but for the most of it I was listening to this raw stuff from an old man almost twice my age. It was a serious conversation albeit a rather boring one.
All sorts of things were in my mind. I struggled hard not to lose my temper and ruin the night. I wanted to talk cause hers was the only voice I could hear. Then again, it’s hard to lose a voice you always hear. It was all very weird but I really can’t give you the details. My attorney advised me not to publicly advertise any of my criminal associations with any identifiable details.
It was just all very weird and I thought she was the only person I could talk to.
I may well be living in a fantasy land, but any other person wouldn’t get it.
We now know we were joking.
It was just a weird thing. We never really took it seriously. It was a good way to relieve tension and exercise our own most primal needs. Maybe we did try at some point, to take it more seriously, but it never got to serious like any other serious conversation. I don’t know what happened, really.
I just know it was beautiful.
But then again, memories aren’t always what it was. Maybe I just want to write it that way.
Very weird night.
Read More..
Many years ago, it would’ve been mad to be in love with her. That holds true just as much, today. It just would’ve been completely mad.
I’m 30 years old and single. Divorced and abandoned, in the city along with twelve million other of the world’s poorest, a five bedroom house with four maids and full time security guards and a dog. I work with information. Technology, media and telco and other nerdy stuff. I write stuff. I’m compulsively opinionated and my ex wife accused me of bipolar disorder (she is certifiably sane).
This blog never uses names. Nor dates or places or anything else identifiable to people other than meself. That doesn’t make it less true, but it’s not exactly a historical account. Things happened the way I thought they happened. You may call it fiction, I call it memories.
Faulty, just as any of your own.
I was out in a corner pub in Pondok Indah. The last thing I remembered was Claudia Bella, the cute little actress, looking hot as hell sitting on the next table. Her laughs sounded very ugly but she was nothing less than stunning.
The people on my table, however, were peculiar and rather engaging. Bella was a distraction but for the most of it I was listening to this raw stuff from an old man almost twice my age. It was a serious conversation albeit a rather boring one.
All sorts of things were in my mind. I struggled hard not to lose my temper and ruin the night. I wanted to talk cause hers was the only voice I could hear. Then again, it’s hard to lose a voice you always hear. It was all very weird but I really can’t give you the details. My attorney advised me not to publicly advertise any of my criminal associations with any identifiable details.
It was just all very weird and I thought she was the only person I could talk to.
I may well be living in a fantasy land, but any other person wouldn’t get it.
We now know we were joking.
It was just a weird thing. We never really took it seriously. It was a good way to relieve tension and exercise our own most primal needs. Maybe we did try at some point, to take it more seriously, but it never got to serious like any other serious conversation. I don’t know what happened, really.
I just know it was beautiful.
But then again, memories aren’t always what it was. Maybe I just want to write it that way.
Very weird night.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
on the Liberal Economist
She said what attracted her to economy was the Invisible Hand. She believes in the market. It will take care of itself and everything will be alright. Spoken like a true neoliberalist. I’d a lot of fun with the term but it’s been so overused, it’s not even funny anymore.
I’m thinking about creating a flag for the movement.
We spoke for a bit as she was driving somewhere. I was at home finalizing a few bits before my dinner appointment. I been trying to dodge this one for weeks but it’s finally catching up. To do things you want to do, sometimes, you have to do things you really don’t want to do. It annoys me but I’m in good shape.
I used to enjoy it a lot, speaking on the phones and spending the ridiculous hours in random conversation. These days, it feels different though I am not sure why. Maybe cause there’s too much to tell and the phone just doesn’t work anymore. Maybe cause I wanna make things right. Maybe cause there were questions. I dunno.
Anyway, I’m off for supper. Til later.
Read More..
I’m thinking about creating a flag for the movement.
We spoke for a bit as she was driving somewhere. I was at home finalizing a few bits before my dinner appointment. I been trying to dodge this one for weeks but it’s finally catching up. To do things you want to do, sometimes, you have to do things you really don’t want to do. It annoys me but I’m in good shape.
I used to enjoy it a lot, speaking on the phones and spending the ridiculous hours in random conversation. These days, it feels different though I am not sure why. Maybe cause there’s too much to tell and the phone just doesn’t work anymore. Maybe cause I wanna make things right. Maybe cause there were questions. I dunno.
Anyway, I’m off for supper. Til later.
on Happy Like Leary
Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out
~Tim Leary
I was reading this piece, Happy Like God. Rousseau and other french stuff.Self sufficient existence of being in the age of twitter.
Tim Leary summed it up.
Read More..
~Tim Leary
I was reading this piece, Happy Like God. Rousseau and other french stuff.Self sufficient existence of being in the age of twitter.
Tim Leary summed it up.
on GM and Thersites
They set two lurchers... They're dogs, before you ask.
On a hare.
And the hare has to outrun the dogs.
So, what if it doesn't?
Well, the big rabbit gets fucked, doesn't it?
Proper fucked?
Yeah, Tommy.
Before "zee" Germans get there.
~Snatch
I ran into Goenawan Mohammad in an event recently and mentioned to him that I really liked his last writing, about democracy and Thersites. It was an interesting take of Troy.
Thersites, by the way, was slain by Achilles later after he upset the hero by flirting with the Queen of the Amazons. I was taken by the women from ancient Greek than its moral quagmires. Pak Goenawan saw in Thersites, as the ugliest man in Troy, the primal voice of the bloodied common masses. Then he got to how that got to do with democracy (go read it here, in Indonesian).
Democracy is inherently messy. It’s complicated and very often, it doesn’t know much itself very well. It’s not supposed to be pretty.
GM also mentions the bit where Thersites was scolded with Zeus’ Golden Rod by Odysseus, apparently for heckling Agamemnon. He sees the broken voice of the disavowed, I’d probably say that the poor bastard had it coming. Anyone familiar with any of the compulsive obsessive ancient Greek Gods would advice you not to ever put them in an inconvenient position. Most of the times, the gods would toy with you just for the fun of it. The few times that you actually give them an excuse to do so, they tend to get back at you quite spectacularly. The Greek Royals were predominantly bastards or concubines of the immortals and these people behave differently to common men, much less a very ugly one.
I had always thought more of Troy as an afterthought. Troy was the collateral damage of these divine mood swings. Troy was the madness of Aphrodite. Love and all the insanity that comes with it.
A man would do a lot for a beautiful girl, just as Paris initiated the countdown sequence for his glorious end for Helen, the most beautiful of girls, just as the Goddess of Love and Lust had promised. Most of those stories were really set around various different halfgods running errands for kinky queens and seductive demons.
The chaotic result was then not an ugly random sequence but a stream of consequence of the divine will, in the bigger scheme of things.
It sounds crazy to say the whole of Troy was annihilated for a woman, but less so if it was razed because the gods willed it. The gods don’t often make sense but they all represent virtues and vices. The heavens was promiscuous and rampant with inbreeding so even the halflings were generally pretty cool.
As a whole, the gods were probably stars and shapes of hopes and inspirations for the mere mortals, each of them as symbols. Sets of expectations.The inbreeding, unfortunately, frequently failed these expectations - some of the half gods were the most terrible of creatures.
The gods very often behaves in the most unpredictable manner so i was completely lost.
Thersites was a very obnoxious character and in low demand. He wouldn’t have made it to the threshold of normal society. He wasn’t liked and for very good reasons but he was always around.
In the old days, Thersites would be forever fucked. He was ugly and annoying and he had it coming.Thersites was the rabbit.
These days, or any days, I guess, anyone is just as likely to get annihilated if they upset the gods.It's an old gambler rule, 'do not tempt the gods'.
That could also happen if you break the Terms of Service.
These days, I guess Thersites would be on twitter.
PS: I quite literally just ran into him and mumbled this random stuff for about five minutes, it wasn't like a big thinking moment session of any kind. I never thought of the Thersites thing except that Hegel mentioned him or something. Sometimes, i'm just curious to pick those brilliantly sober minds. I think he's generally the best writer around and i was curious of his curiousity. One might say he is brilliant and i am nosy. Nevermind.
On the democracy thing, I like what John Adams, writing to Jefferson about the uglies and undesirables, said the stupidity with which the more numerous multitude not only become their dupes, but even love to be taken in by their tricks, I feel a stronger disposition to weep at their destiny, than to laugh at their folly.
Read More..
On a hare.
And the hare has to outrun the dogs.
So, what if it doesn't?
Well, the big rabbit gets fucked, doesn't it?
Proper fucked?
Yeah, Tommy.
Before "zee" Germans get there.
~Snatch
I ran into Goenawan Mohammad in an event recently and mentioned to him that I really liked his last writing, about democracy and Thersites. It was an interesting take of Troy.
Thersites, by the way, was slain by Achilles later after he upset the hero by flirting with the Queen of the Amazons. I was taken by the women from ancient Greek than its moral quagmires. Pak Goenawan saw in Thersites, as the ugliest man in Troy, the primal voice of the bloodied common masses. Then he got to how that got to do with democracy (go read it here, in Indonesian).
Democracy is inherently messy. It’s complicated and very often, it doesn’t know much itself very well. It’s not supposed to be pretty.
GM also mentions the bit where Thersites was scolded with Zeus’ Golden Rod by Odysseus, apparently for heckling Agamemnon. He sees the broken voice of the disavowed, I’d probably say that the poor bastard had it coming. Anyone familiar with any of the compulsive obsessive ancient Greek Gods would advice you not to ever put them in an inconvenient position. Most of the times, the gods would toy with you just for the fun of it. The few times that you actually give them an excuse to do so, they tend to get back at you quite spectacularly. The Greek Royals were predominantly bastards or concubines of the immortals and these people behave differently to common men, much less a very ugly one.
I had always thought more of Troy as an afterthought. Troy was the collateral damage of these divine mood swings. Troy was the madness of Aphrodite. Love and all the insanity that comes with it.
A man would do a lot for a beautiful girl, just as Paris initiated the countdown sequence for his glorious end for Helen, the most beautiful of girls, just as the Goddess of Love and Lust had promised. Most of those stories were really set around various different halfgods running errands for kinky queens and seductive demons.
The chaotic result was then not an ugly random sequence but a stream of consequence of the divine will, in the bigger scheme of things.
It sounds crazy to say the whole of Troy was annihilated for a woman, but less so if it was razed because the gods willed it. The gods don’t often make sense but they all represent virtues and vices. The heavens was promiscuous and rampant with inbreeding so even the halflings were generally pretty cool.
As a whole, the gods were probably stars and shapes of hopes and inspirations for the mere mortals, each of them as symbols. Sets of expectations.The inbreeding, unfortunately, frequently failed these expectations - some of the half gods were the most terrible of creatures.
The gods very often behaves in the most unpredictable manner so i was completely lost.
Thersites was a very obnoxious character and in low demand. He wouldn’t have made it to the threshold of normal society. He wasn’t liked and for very good reasons but he was always around.
In the old days, Thersites would be forever fucked. He was ugly and annoying and he had it coming.Thersites was the rabbit.
These days, or any days, I guess, anyone is just as likely to get annihilated if they upset the gods.It's an old gambler rule, 'do not tempt the gods'.
That could also happen if you break the Terms of Service.
These days, I guess Thersites would be on twitter.
PS: I quite literally just ran into him and mumbled this random stuff for about five minutes, it wasn't like a big thinking moment session of any kind. I never thought of the Thersites thing except that Hegel mentioned him or something. Sometimes, i'm just curious to pick those brilliantly sober minds. I think he's generally the best writer around and i was curious of his curiousity. One might say he is brilliant and i am nosy. Nevermind.
On the democracy thing, I like what John Adams, writing to Jefferson about the uglies and undesirables, said the stupidity with which the more numerous multitude not only become their dupes, but even love to be taken in by their tricks, I feel a stronger disposition to weep at their destiny, than to laugh at their folly.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
on These Things We Cannot Change
Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
Were climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue,
These things we cannot change
~Two Steps, Dave Matthews
Sometimes, I just sitting on my desk, looking outside, trying to think of nothing and listening to Dave Matthews. Love, you drive me to distraction. There’s a yellow Lamborghini parked at Loewy and the weather is looking fabulous from up here.
My view from this office looked into the Jakarta business district. The buildings are generally just spaced two rows deep, nothing like Hong Kong or Singapore. There are almost no tall buildings between Sudirman and Kuningan beyond Mal Ambassador. Red clay roofs and occasional green patches in random sequence. Every so often, minarets mark the neighborhoods slowly fading and humbled to irrelevance. Shame it’s so dirty cause otherwise it’ll be nice to actually walk about outside for a bit.
I’m having a relatively easy day with a few papers to write and half a dozen other mini errands to do throughout the day. The work documents are easy though I’m having a hard time concentrating. Having spoken to a few other Jedis in the last week, I’ve decided to really put in sometime in working on the script. I’m thinking of getting involved seriously though the consequences are unclear at this point. At the moment, i just enjoy writing it.
The rest of the week looks promising and just as pleasant.
There are a few political networking events and a few other meet and greet sessions this week, I’m not sure why I’m doing it but it’s probably a good idea to socialize a little more these days. I have been too much of a hermit and my life’s been a little too boring recently. Apart from regular work and the script work I’m also taking on one new funny assignment. I can’t say much about this last one except that it’s terribly exciting and I will be traveling a little bit for it.
Just like Jakarta, just as I am writing this, the day turns into a mess and it’s all gray and yuck with the now-climate-adapted regular variety tropical thunderstorm. Blah.
Have a good Tuesday, all.
Read More..
Because life is short but sweet for certain
Were climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue,
These things we cannot change
~Two Steps, Dave Matthews
Sometimes, I just sitting on my desk, looking outside, trying to think of nothing and listening to Dave Matthews. Love, you drive me to distraction. There’s a yellow Lamborghini parked at Loewy and the weather is looking fabulous from up here.
My view from this office looked into the Jakarta business district. The buildings are generally just spaced two rows deep, nothing like Hong Kong or Singapore. There are almost no tall buildings between Sudirman and Kuningan beyond Mal Ambassador. Red clay roofs and occasional green patches in random sequence. Every so often, minarets mark the neighborhoods slowly fading and humbled to irrelevance. Shame it’s so dirty cause otherwise it’ll be nice to actually walk about outside for a bit.
I’m having a relatively easy day with a few papers to write and half a dozen other mini errands to do throughout the day. The work documents are easy though I’m having a hard time concentrating. Having spoken to a few other Jedis in the last week, I’ve decided to really put in sometime in working on the script. I’m thinking of getting involved seriously though the consequences are unclear at this point. At the moment, i just enjoy writing it.
The rest of the week looks promising and just as pleasant.
There are a few political networking events and a few other meet and greet sessions this week, I’m not sure why I’m doing it but it’s probably a good idea to socialize a little more these days. I have been too much of a hermit and my life’s been a little too boring recently. Apart from regular work and the script work I’m also taking on one new funny assignment. I can’t say much about this last one except that it’s terribly exciting and I will be traveling a little bit for it.
Just like Jakarta, just as I am writing this, the day turns into a mess and it’s all gray and yuck with the now-climate-adapted regular variety tropical thunderstorm. Blah.
Have a good Tuesday, all.
on Random May Notes
- F1 is getting interesting, though not interesting enough so that I'd sit sober and wait for the end last Sunday. Ferarri should quit and start their own race with very fast cars going round and round in long runways.
- Did anyone see King James on Cavs' game 2? (Game 3 I just saw, good but they lost) The man's insane. I've never been this excited about the NBA since Michael Jordan left.
- North Korea nuked itself for fun. I don't really know what to make of that crazy shit. Personally, i don't think lunatics shouldn't be let out with nuclear weapons but then again, only a lunatic would go after another lunatic armed with nuke. It's a mad world.
- Blackberry chat is just ridiculously addictive. I don't own a BB myself, but I am the only one without these days. Everybody seems to be chatting with everybody else and I'm feeling left out.
- I am chatting with Olive, which i haven't done in any recent memory, and so far, we're not fighting.
Read More..
- Did anyone see King James on Cavs' game 2? (Game 3 I just saw, good but they lost) The man's insane. I've never been this excited about the NBA since Michael Jordan left.
- North Korea nuked itself for fun. I don't really know what to make of that crazy shit. Personally, i don't think lunatics shouldn't be let out with nuclear weapons but then again, only a lunatic would go after another lunatic armed with nuke. It's a mad world.
- Blackberry chat is just ridiculously addictive. I don't own a BB myself, but I am the only one without these days. Everybody seems to be chatting with everybody else and I'm feeling left out.
- I am chatting with Olive, which i haven't done in any recent memory, and so far, we're not fighting.
Monday, May 25, 2009
on A Peculiar Sunday
The silicon chip inside her head
Gets switched to overload
And nobody's gonna go to school today
She's going to make them stay at home
~I Don't Like Monday, The Boomtown Rats
I’m still on my Bob Geldof thing this week, so the music’s there. It seems apt.
I’ve met some strange people in my life. Interesting people. A lot of them I write about in this blog but a lot more never made it here. Today, I met a very interesting character.
The circumstances were highly unusual so it adds to the flavor. I received the call for a pickup car at Grand Indonesia and was taken across town to a building with a barely acceptable reception. The room had an air condition unit, it was cool but we can smoke, so I was alright with that. There were cameras and probably also microphones in the room. One wall was half covered with one way mirror with scratches. I could see the person on the other side. The room smelled of industrial floor cleaner.
The meeting was timed but we took ours in leisure. We didn’t really have much to hurry to and exceptions were the rule in these places.
I’m not sure what will come out of this stuff. The Billionaires Club are too full of bad boys, it’s just most people never got to get in. Once you’re in, you never know what you’re gonna come out with.
Emergency Jedi Council meetings were hastily arranged and I managed to get the two I needed most. One Master was at his lair and the other at her tower. The Young Master was anxious and mischievous but he can take care of his ends. Mistress Jedi was sought for her opinion and maternal instincts. This Jedi knows more than most of us about badly kept secrets.
She always said that everyone has her price. I need to know my price.
It was a pleasant Sunday evening and she wanted sausages so we drove to Citos and snuck into Frankfurter for a late dinner. She asked if I knew what I was doing. I know what I’m doing as much as the next guy. It’s not like any one of us kept a secret manual on how to do things. Every so often, you’re bound to do the improbable or the undesirable and we’ll do it anyway. Some make it and others don’t. I asked if she knew what she was doing and the Jedi just shrugged.
We sat the remaining of dinner in silence. She stole my rib burger and I stole her cheese.
The rest of the week will be a whole host of a lot of things. ‘Til then.
Read More..
Gets switched to overload
And nobody's gonna go to school today
She's going to make them stay at home
~I Don't Like Monday, The Boomtown Rats
I’m still on my Bob Geldof thing this week, so the music’s there. It seems apt.
I’ve met some strange people in my life. Interesting people. A lot of them I write about in this blog but a lot more never made it here. Today, I met a very interesting character.
The circumstances were highly unusual so it adds to the flavor. I received the call for a pickup car at Grand Indonesia and was taken across town to a building with a barely acceptable reception. The room had an air condition unit, it was cool but we can smoke, so I was alright with that. There were cameras and probably also microphones in the room. One wall was half covered with one way mirror with scratches. I could see the person on the other side. The room smelled of industrial floor cleaner.
The meeting was timed but we took ours in leisure. We didn’t really have much to hurry to and exceptions were the rule in these places.
I’m not sure what will come out of this stuff. The Billionaires Club are too full of bad boys, it’s just most people never got to get in. Once you’re in, you never know what you’re gonna come out with.
Emergency Jedi Council meetings were hastily arranged and I managed to get the two I needed most. One Master was at his lair and the other at her tower. The Young Master was anxious and mischievous but he can take care of his ends. Mistress Jedi was sought for her opinion and maternal instincts. This Jedi knows more than most of us about badly kept secrets.
She always said that everyone has her price. I need to know my price.
It was a pleasant Sunday evening and she wanted sausages so we drove to Citos and snuck into Frankfurter for a late dinner. She asked if I knew what I was doing. I know what I’m doing as much as the next guy. It’s not like any one of us kept a secret manual on how to do things. Every so often, you’re bound to do the improbable or the undesirable and we’ll do it anyway. Some make it and others don’t. I asked if she knew what she was doing and the Jedi just shrugged.
We sat the remaining of dinner in silence. She stole my rib burger and I stole her cheese.
The rest of the week will be a whole host of a lot of things. ‘Til then.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
on a Slow Night
I am alone this weekend with no plans. Nella is always busy in weekends, Vivian back to her Deepshitville home town and most of the Jedis are resting indoors or away on a long weekend trip. Nobody else from my little black book is available and I can’t ask anyone out cause The phone call requires me to be on standby for an international flight at a few hours notice. It's all very thrilling.
Meh.
It was a good weekend to be home and play with Verbal and I don’t really feel like anything else.
There are stars above. We don’t see that very often in Jakarta but tonight, the sky’s littered with them tiny little floating things. I felt like outside and took Verbal for a basketball game and shot a few hoops. The tiny floating stars were beautiful and I enjoyed playing outside almost as much as the dog. When he knows how to do a grab and pass my dog will make an excellent point guard.
Nobody else was playing at nine in the evening and even the roads were deserted. Maybe Jakarta does get tired sometimes.
A lot of things are happening. Nothing much to tell in the home and heart front so there will be the regular smutty tales. I am exploring a project in producing something and currently working on a few materials, mostly to do with affairs, long distance relationships, lies, betrayals, love and all the other usual shit. In other words, it’s business as usual. I’ve been writing a little more than usual on the Indonesian election and they’re mostly here.
I am juggling a few things and I bound to break one or more. I may travel a little bit and I don’t promise to make sense to anyone. I don’t always make sense to myself either.
Have a good weekend, all.
Read More..
Meh.
It was a good weekend to be home and play with Verbal and I don’t really feel like anything else.
There are stars above. We don’t see that very often in Jakarta but tonight, the sky’s littered with them tiny little floating things. I felt like outside and took Verbal for a basketball game and shot a few hoops. The tiny floating stars were beautiful and I enjoyed playing outside almost as much as the dog. When he knows how to do a grab and pass my dog will make an excellent point guard.
Nobody else was playing at nine in the evening and even the roads were deserted. Maybe Jakarta does get tired sometimes.
A lot of things are happening. Nothing much to tell in the home and heart front so there will be the regular smutty tales. I am exploring a project in producing something and currently working on a few materials, mostly to do with affairs, long distance relationships, lies, betrayals, love and all the other usual shit. In other words, it’s business as usual. I’ve been writing a little more than usual on the Indonesian election and they’re mostly here.
I am juggling a few things and I bound to break one or more. I may travel a little bit and I don’t promise to make sense to anyone. I don’t always make sense to myself either.
Have a good weekend, all.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
on a Dodgy Business
"Sir, I am unaware of any such activity or operation - nor would I be disposed to discuss such an operation if it did in fact exist, sir."
~Willard, Apocalypse Now
A love affair is a dodgy business.
One problem when dealing with a love affair is the little voice in the back of your head with the most impressive collection of excuses and explanations. We want to explain it with every other word but that.
It’s hard to tell it like it is and by definition, inadmissible.
Affairs are often intense and disproportionate. Usually, the sex is better. Two people in an illicit relationship are most likely at odds with the rest of their world so they end up doing what two people should be doing when they’re left alone in an empty world. They hump like rabbits.
Love affairs are raw and frequently brutal expositions. You lied to the whole world and that fucked with your head for a new and adjusted reality. Do you believe your own explanations, or were they merely your conscious clawing back for some semblance of order? Do you lie to him, or were you telling the truth? Can you handle the truth?
If nobody knows the truth, does it even exist?
This kind of Jedi tricks are the most difficult ones and best left only for the masters and immortals.
I’ve lots of little voices in my head and at the moment, trying hard to ignore them.
Read More..
~Willard, Apocalypse Now
A love affair is a dodgy business.
One problem when dealing with a love affair is the little voice in the back of your head with the most impressive collection of excuses and explanations. We want to explain it with every other word but that.
It’s hard to tell it like it is and by definition, inadmissible.
Affairs are often intense and disproportionate. Usually, the sex is better. Two people in an illicit relationship are most likely at odds with the rest of their world so they end up doing what two people should be doing when they’re left alone in an empty world. They hump like rabbits.
Love affairs are raw and frequently brutal expositions. You lied to the whole world and that fucked with your head for a new and adjusted reality. Do you believe your own explanations, or were they merely your conscious clawing back for some semblance of order? Do you lie to him, or were you telling the truth? Can you handle the truth?
If nobody knows the truth, does it even exist?
This kind of Jedi tricks are the most difficult ones and best left only for the masters and immortals.
I’ve lots of little voices in my head and at the moment, trying hard to ignore them.
Singapore Swings (Pt. III)
Mr. Kurtz lacked restraint in the gratification of his various lusts, there was something wanting in him --some small matter which, when the pressing need arose, could not be found under his magnificent eloquence. Whether he knew of this deficiency himself I can't say.
~Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad
Sam is Irish, 35 years old, blonde to the shoulders and stands a full inch taller than me. You can’t miss her in an Asian crowd even if you wanted to. I found her at the coffee shop with a tired face but looking slightly charged being so far away from home. Neither of us got jetlagged but she’d been flying further and longer from San Franscisco. Sam holds like, two PhDs or something and currently works in the medical research field. I duly reminded her that if she really wanted to do porn, now would be the perfect time to do it. She looked her prime and it will all be downhill from here..
The Old Uncle made us uncomfortable with his interruptions so we keep changing subjects from Hong Kong to malicious insects, gene therapy to the evils of capitalism. We were both curious about the casino development. Sam mentioned casually that over the years that we’ve known each number, we visited a number of game heavens. We’ve been together in Las Vegas, Reno, Atlantic City and most recently, Macao. For a couple of non gamblers, those holidays were peculiar. I asked if the Uncle knew where Mr. Yew lives but he didn’t seem to understand the question but it shut him up.
We were staying in Sentosa, Sis had the entire family so she wanted to stay in a resort and had the babysitters look after them devils. Other adults were scattered in hotels around Orchid and nearer to the hospital. I wanted to see nobody at all and generally preferred not to meet anyone related to the Old Man and took only the night shifts. The days I spent mostly reading a book on Howard Marks.
Mr. Nice was a major English dope dealer that controlled some substantial amount of the international trade in marijuana. Marks was arrested with a phony passport using that name. A friend loaned it to me and I’m liking it enough to probably not return the book. I strongly recommend it to anyone with even a passing interest in the sixties generation.
Sam had some very bad ideas about how to make her very short visit in Singapore a lot more fun even without the tacky casino lights but Uncle Cab whipped us with a frightened glare. I’ve discovered that a very large number of Singapore taxi drivers are ex military officers and we took the more prudent route and ceased teasing him with subversive conversations.
Sam bought me an Alan Aldridge book and I bought her a black stone in Hong Kong. We arrived at the hotel peacefully and tinkered with our presents. The extra bedroom in my suite was vacant so she dropped her bags there and showered before getting back out for the hospital. We took a different and friendlier cabby with a functioning humour and Sam called him Ming.
At the hospital she was greeted as Dr. Blondie and there was so much giggling between us the other people thought we were funny. This was a professional visit and thus I was dismissed and left to my own device for some forty minutes with psychedelic pictures while Sam went in to do her smart stuff. Alan Aldridge illustrated The Beatles songs.
There were a number of guests and a few family members. The little Devils were there and I was in charge of minding the herd. I personally thought it was ridiculous that these little ones were even presently in Singapore, never mind roaming wildly in a hospital at this time of the day but their mother thought they better learn to understand that bad things do happen, even in Singapore. She had a van and a dedicated driver but most of us just took the cabs. When Sam reemerged and mingled for the official report it was late and we hitched right back to the hotel. She called this driver also Ming.
She thought I need some treatment for my disliking of Singapore and not of the medicinal kind. We drank only orange juice and talked about random things. She was every bit as she always was.
Many years ago, she was completely alien to my sensibilities. Perfect abandon of any kinds of attachment - Samantha has no place for commitments and social values in the traditional sense. She was often too detached and disjointed for most social encounters that I am certain shrinks would have a field day with her head. She’s a Catholic with a strong animosity against the Pope and had at some point, dated Dave Navarro, appeared in a soft core title, performed brain surgeries and presently spends her time researching End of Mosquitoes full time at a top secret facility deep in Smarlands, California – a quest that had brought us together in the first place.
A lot of things changed along the years and things moved all over the place. Some familiar faces were completely forgotten and new friends were made. New social alliances were established and old ones rearranged. Cities moved and countries go to wars and normal people died.
I think both of us changed quite a bit since. She is now much drier and bitter. Not necessarily darker – the girl is fun to look at. She has a pair of hilariously large boobs, too. Except the older Sam had somehow grown malignant and malicious. She was always fiercely territorial but never really took an aggressive pose. The last two years of her is more a belligerent spinster than a blonde bimbo.
One would probably describe the symptoms as radicalization.
She asked if I knew anything about elections in India. I am having problems keeping up with the Indonesian ones at the moment. We admitted that it’s a very entertaining time to be in this part of the world at this age. Sam had purchased a Blackberry but only to check her work mail and nothing else. She’d never bought anything online. She knows more about Indian election and we talked a little bit about caste and Asian values. Feudalism is an excellent instrument for social engineering but the transitions were often brutal and the rules seemed draconian in current day terms.
She asked if Facebook terms and conditions can be described in those same terms but neither of us are on Facebook so we can’t say for sure. I promised to check and investigate.
She asked about the Malaysian Royals and gods and religions and stuff. I strongly believe in secular governments and I truly, honestly prefer not to be in Malaysia for any length of time than the absolutely necessary for this very reason. The idea of a feudalist cult under a pseudo-democracy regime with a religious bent I find repugnant and annoying. The obsession with phallic symbols nails it.
I love Singapore for its quirks. There’s an impressive nature to its orderliness. Singapore is when you live in a world that works exactly like how a world should if you’re a certain kind of people.
It is an elegant place to do business as it works like a clockwork, everything is done and always on time. In most of the transactions I’ve done, we did it in Singapore for the very simple reason that Singapore bureaucracy can do what would normally take two or three months in Indonesia, to a precise three days.
Sam never likes Singapore – or any other Asian cities – thinking she looks ‘conspicuous’ in the crowd.
I suggested she wears a veil.
We asked Suzanne if she knew of any underground Singapore film scene at all. I knew her from working with agencies and she knows all sorts of creative types. Suzanne promised to find out but we didn’t have that much time to go anywhere. My flight back to Jakarta was later the following day and she was flying for Sydney in a few hours. The room grew obscenely cold and we were both chain smoking in the darkness the looking at shadows.
She asked if Asians value death differently. There’s probably the same sense of loss and slight panic in the more dramatic moments but they also differ greatly from one another. She was excited with the idea and thought we should plan for a weekend to sit somewhere with palm trees and lots of champagne on her way back so we could actually drink a little and talk a little bit more. She assured me things will be okay.
That was a few weeks ago and Sam just now called with the most recent update. I told her that I’ve a plan to be in Jogja to check the theatre scene. She volunteered to read a part for the role and explore if the role was probably a blonde. I thought it was a good idea to test and sent her the text.
Sam asked about what Asian Values are on the institution of marriage. I think marriage is largely an obsolete feudal institution. She thinks Asian countries will be the final frontier for traditional marriages. I’m not sure what Singapore marital laws are like but Indonesian ones are very grubby. We smartly avoided the conversation about commitments and the mushy stuff.
Everything else was fine and there’s nothing to worry about. It doesn’t seem likely that I am going to Australia anytime soon. The Old Man will be back in Jakarta in a few weeks time. Sam is flying ahead of time with a stopover in Bali, Jogja, Jakarta for a two working day stop and then to Medan. Sam insisted on seeing for herself the largest explosion in the recorded history and planned to try the mushroom on the Stone Age island.
She asked if there’s anyone she should be worrying about at the moment in Jakarta and I told her that catfights are highly unlikely. Jakarta doesn’t like commitment much either and the city is really no place to fall in love. I am positively single at the moment.
For a long while longer we were only looking outside to wait for the day break and the time to leave for our flights. Singapore at night lit up like a distant bitch, bright and colourful and very definitely pretty. It was comforting to know that everything will happen in just the right way, with the best possible outcome.
The rules were imposed with a military zeal, a passive aggressive tone of rigidity and occasionally bizarre impulses. A popular trick for a homogenous society to evolve and survive is moving as fast as possible and the Singaporeans have mastered this to a boring precision.
It’s a very good place to be if you’re about to undergo a surgery or a private dispute of some sort. The odds are better in your favor but eventually everyone dies and occasionally dreams go kaput. The city state also has the highest execution per population anywhere in the world.
She thought I should source the women from Conrad for the blind naiveté.
We went to back to the airport at some early hours, I was exhausted by the long quick hops and Sam was jaded. We bought stuff at the duty free and went to the smoking lounge on the roof to wait for our planes out of Changi. I bought her a copy of King Rat to read on the plane. The story was set in Changi, by James Clavell set a few generations after Shogun.
I’ve always loved how it ends:
And Adam ruled, for he was the King. Until the day his will to be King deserted him. Then he died, food for a stronger. And the strongest was always the King, not by strength alone but King by cunning and luck and strength together. Among the rats.
Read More..
~Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad
Sam is Irish, 35 years old, blonde to the shoulders and stands a full inch taller than me. You can’t miss her in an Asian crowd even if you wanted to. I found her at the coffee shop with a tired face but looking slightly charged being so far away from home. Neither of us got jetlagged but she’d been flying further and longer from San Franscisco. Sam holds like, two PhDs or something and currently works in the medical research field. I duly reminded her that if she really wanted to do porn, now would be the perfect time to do it. She looked her prime and it will all be downhill from here..
The Old Uncle made us uncomfortable with his interruptions so we keep changing subjects from Hong Kong to malicious insects, gene therapy to the evils of capitalism. We were both curious about the casino development. Sam mentioned casually that over the years that we’ve known each number, we visited a number of game heavens. We’ve been together in Las Vegas, Reno, Atlantic City and most recently, Macao. For a couple of non gamblers, those holidays were peculiar. I asked if the Uncle knew where Mr. Yew lives but he didn’t seem to understand the question but it shut him up.
We were staying in Sentosa, Sis had the entire family so she wanted to stay in a resort and had the babysitters look after them devils. Other adults were scattered in hotels around Orchid and nearer to the hospital. I wanted to see nobody at all and generally preferred not to meet anyone related to the Old Man and took only the night shifts. The days I spent mostly reading a book on Howard Marks.
Mr. Nice was a major English dope dealer that controlled some substantial amount of the international trade in marijuana. Marks was arrested with a phony passport using that name. A friend loaned it to me and I’m liking it enough to probably not return the book. I strongly recommend it to anyone with even a passing interest in the sixties generation.
Sam had some very bad ideas about how to make her very short visit in Singapore a lot more fun even without the tacky casino lights but Uncle Cab whipped us with a frightened glare. I’ve discovered that a very large number of Singapore taxi drivers are ex military officers and we took the more prudent route and ceased teasing him with subversive conversations.
Sam bought me an Alan Aldridge book and I bought her a black stone in Hong Kong. We arrived at the hotel peacefully and tinkered with our presents. The extra bedroom in my suite was vacant so she dropped her bags there and showered before getting back out for the hospital. We took a different and friendlier cabby with a functioning humour and Sam called him Ming.
At the hospital she was greeted as Dr. Blondie and there was so much giggling between us the other people thought we were funny. This was a professional visit and thus I was dismissed and left to my own device for some forty minutes with psychedelic pictures while Sam went in to do her smart stuff. Alan Aldridge illustrated The Beatles songs.
There were a number of guests and a few family members. The little Devils were there and I was in charge of minding the herd. I personally thought it was ridiculous that these little ones were even presently in Singapore, never mind roaming wildly in a hospital at this time of the day but their mother thought they better learn to understand that bad things do happen, even in Singapore. She had a van and a dedicated driver but most of us just took the cabs. When Sam reemerged and mingled for the official report it was late and we hitched right back to the hotel. She called this driver also Ming.
She thought I need some treatment for my disliking of Singapore and not of the medicinal kind. We drank only orange juice and talked about random things. She was every bit as she always was.
Many years ago, she was completely alien to my sensibilities. Perfect abandon of any kinds of attachment - Samantha has no place for commitments and social values in the traditional sense. She was often too detached and disjointed for most social encounters that I am certain shrinks would have a field day with her head. She’s a Catholic with a strong animosity against the Pope and had at some point, dated Dave Navarro, appeared in a soft core title, performed brain surgeries and presently spends her time researching End of Mosquitoes full time at a top secret facility deep in Smarlands, California – a quest that had brought us together in the first place.
A lot of things changed along the years and things moved all over the place. Some familiar faces were completely forgotten and new friends were made. New social alliances were established and old ones rearranged. Cities moved and countries go to wars and normal people died.
I think both of us changed quite a bit since. She is now much drier and bitter. Not necessarily darker – the girl is fun to look at. She has a pair of hilariously large boobs, too. Except the older Sam had somehow grown malignant and malicious. She was always fiercely territorial but never really took an aggressive pose. The last two years of her is more a belligerent spinster than a blonde bimbo.
One would probably describe the symptoms as radicalization.
She asked if I knew anything about elections in India. I am having problems keeping up with the Indonesian ones at the moment. We admitted that it’s a very entertaining time to be in this part of the world at this age. Sam had purchased a Blackberry but only to check her work mail and nothing else. She’d never bought anything online. She knows more about Indian election and we talked a little bit about caste and Asian values. Feudalism is an excellent instrument for social engineering but the transitions were often brutal and the rules seemed draconian in current day terms.
She asked if Facebook terms and conditions can be described in those same terms but neither of us are on Facebook so we can’t say for sure. I promised to check and investigate.
She asked about the Malaysian Royals and gods and religions and stuff. I strongly believe in secular governments and I truly, honestly prefer not to be in Malaysia for any length of time than the absolutely necessary for this very reason. The idea of a feudalist cult under a pseudo-democracy regime with a religious bent I find repugnant and annoying. The obsession with phallic symbols nails it.
I love Singapore for its quirks. There’s an impressive nature to its orderliness. Singapore is when you live in a world that works exactly like how a world should if you’re a certain kind of people.
It is an elegant place to do business as it works like a clockwork, everything is done and always on time. In most of the transactions I’ve done, we did it in Singapore for the very simple reason that Singapore bureaucracy can do what would normally take two or three months in Indonesia, to a precise three days.
Sam never likes Singapore – or any other Asian cities – thinking she looks ‘conspicuous’ in the crowd.
I suggested she wears a veil.
We asked Suzanne if she knew of any underground Singapore film scene at all. I knew her from working with agencies and she knows all sorts of creative types. Suzanne promised to find out but we didn’t have that much time to go anywhere. My flight back to Jakarta was later the following day and she was flying for Sydney in a few hours. The room grew obscenely cold and we were both chain smoking in the darkness the looking at shadows.
She asked if Asians value death differently. There’s probably the same sense of loss and slight panic in the more dramatic moments but they also differ greatly from one another. She was excited with the idea and thought we should plan for a weekend to sit somewhere with palm trees and lots of champagne on her way back so we could actually drink a little and talk a little bit more. She assured me things will be okay.
That was a few weeks ago and Sam just now called with the most recent update. I told her that I’ve a plan to be in Jogja to check the theatre scene. She volunteered to read a part for the role and explore if the role was probably a blonde. I thought it was a good idea to test and sent her the text.
Sam asked about what Asian Values are on the institution of marriage. I think marriage is largely an obsolete feudal institution. She thinks Asian countries will be the final frontier for traditional marriages. I’m not sure what Singapore marital laws are like but Indonesian ones are very grubby. We smartly avoided the conversation about commitments and the mushy stuff.
Everything else was fine and there’s nothing to worry about. It doesn’t seem likely that I am going to Australia anytime soon. The Old Man will be back in Jakarta in a few weeks time. Sam is flying ahead of time with a stopover in Bali, Jogja, Jakarta for a two working day stop and then to Medan. Sam insisted on seeing for herself the largest explosion in the recorded history and planned to try the mushroom on the Stone Age island.
She asked if there’s anyone she should be worrying about at the moment in Jakarta and I told her that catfights are highly unlikely. Jakarta doesn’t like commitment much either and the city is really no place to fall in love. I am positively single at the moment.
For a long while longer we were only looking outside to wait for the day break and the time to leave for our flights. Singapore at night lit up like a distant bitch, bright and colourful and very definitely pretty. It was comforting to know that everything will happen in just the right way, with the best possible outcome.
The rules were imposed with a military zeal, a passive aggressive tone of rigidity and occasionally bizarre impulses. A popular trick for a homogenous society to evolve and survive is moving as fast as possible and the Singaporeans have mastered this to a boring precision.
It’s a very good place to be if you’re about to undergo a surgery or a private dispute of some sort. The odds are better in your favor but eventually everyone dies and occasionally dreams go kaput. The city state also has the highest execution per population anywhere in the world.
She thought I should source the women from Conrad for the blind naiveté.
We went to back to the airport at some early hours, I was exhausted by the long quick hops and Sam was jaded. We bought stuff at the duty free and went to the smoking lounge on the roof to wait for our planes out of Changi. I bought her a copy of King Rat to read on the plane. The story was set in Changi, by James Clavell set a few generations after Shogun.
I’ve always loved how it ends:
And Adam ruled, for he was the King. Until the day his will to be King deserted him. Then he died, food for a stronger. And the strongest was always the King, not by strength alone but King by cunning and luck and strength together. Among the rats.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
on a Morning Mall
I had a nine am at the Senayan City and got there early and thus was forced into a mall for the first time this year. I discovered that nothing opens at nine in the morning in the magnificent temple. I liked it better that way. I doubt that it had anything to do with the Vampire but I kept hearing the Fall Out Boy doing their Michael Jackson impersonation and I saw zonked out zombies running around the mall with what looked like plasma guns.
I wasn’t on acid or anything, my head works that way even at breakfast.
The fluorescent Shopping Mall lights were still off, there were humans and minions sweeping and cleaning up in the shadows and a few girls hurriedly dragging their large handbags, uniforms and whatnot, getting ready to open. I went downstairs in search of breakfast and the few coffee shops were playing very loud music I didn’t recognize. The morning shift robots were happy at their jobs and I was served a small pizza with pineapple on it.
Later when I went upstairs for my meeting and served proper espresso, I asked the guys why nothing was open in the morning. I think the malls should stay open all nights as that will help with the traffic by moving the economy into a 24 hour cycle.
The SCTV meeting room looked into the golf course on one side and a slum on the other. I was laughing at the poor people when we adjourned the meeting, someone thought that was bad taste. I thought bad taste was if you put a war criminal in office. We talked more of basket ball and Marilyn Manson’s Smell Like Children album and the climate change and parted ways at the elevator. I stopped at the Calvin Klein shop, already staffed and manned by humans that stared and looked at me weirdly. They probably didn’t think one should be shopping at breakfast but I’ve had mine and I told them about the pineapple pizza downstairs. Not exactly noteworthy of anything, those people.
In the car to the office, I thought of a number of things. Some were happy thoughts, others less so and few downright silly ideas. Thursday is the Ascension of Christ and I was researching some stuff so the Office Boy was dispatched to fetch me a bible and I dispelled the zombies by the end of the working day. Boediono was the news a lot, working overtime to talk about neoliberalism and the economy. By putting him in the veep slot, SBY has now turn the election into an economy debate, which is probably a good thing. Megawati-Prabowo thought they could do 10% year on year for 5 years, which I thought was delusional but it wasn’t the most outlandish thing I heard in the day. Jesus told me to pay taxes.
I’m off for the day to work on the writing and might check back again later. Stay around, and enjoy the holiday.
Read More..
I wasn’t on acid or anything, my head works that way even at breakfast.
The fluorescent Shopping Mall lights were still off, there were humans and minions sweeping and cleaning up in the shadows and a few girls hurriedly dragging their large handbags, uniforms and whatnot, getting ready to open. I went downstairs in search of breakfast and the few coffee shops were playing very loud music I didn’t recognize. The morning shift robots were happy at their jobs and I was served a small pizza with pineapple on it.
Later when I went upstairs for my meeting and served proper espresso, I asked the guys why nothing was open in the morning. I think the malls should stay open all nights as that will help with the traffic by moving the economy into a 24 hour cycle.
The SCTV meeting room looked into the golf course on one side and a slum on the other. I was laughing at the poor people when we adjourned the meeting, someone thought that was bad taste. I thought bad taste was if you put a war criminal in office. We talked more of basket ball and Marilyn Manson’s Smell Like Children album and the climate change and parted ways at the elevator. I stopped at the Calvin Klein shop, already staffed and manned by humans that stared and looked at me weirdly. They probably didn’t think one should be shopping at breakfast but I’ve had mine and I told them about the pineapple pizza downstairs. Not exactly noteworthy of anything, those people.
In the car to the office, I thought of a number of things. Some were happy thoughts, others less so and few downright silly ideas. Thursday is the Ascension of Christ and I was researching some stuff so the Office Boy was dispatched to fetch me a bible and I dispelled the zombies by the end of the working day. Boediono was the news a lot, working overtime to talk about neoliberalism and the economy. By putting him in the veep slot, SBY has now turn the election into an economy debate, which is probably a good thing. Megawati-Prabowo thought they could do 10% year on year for 5 years, which I thought was delusional but it wasn’t the most outlandish thing I heard in the day. Jesus told me to pay taxes.
I’m off for the day to work on the writing and might check back again later. Stay around, and enjoy the holiday.
This Happened on Tuesday
Olive pissed me off big time today. Well, not exactly pissed me off, but she sucked big time. Somebody ought to make her read a little bit more, so she can actually keep up with the recent stuff and not stuck in ancient history. She makes sure I remember things I want to forget, which is not a good feeling. It just sucks the air out.
Fat Finger was totally unacceptable for skipping two meetings in one day with no explanation. I’m a little crazy on the side, I’m sure, but I keep my words. At the very least, I will try to keep my own words. When you’re some organic-cosmic excrement, planted in a temporary universe for times of boundless hope, the only thing you ever get to be are your own words. A man can’t be bothered, then surely, I don’t have to either. I’m never a big fan of ‘socially-acceptable lies’.
I had the strangest sms – followed by a ten minute international call – followed by another call to travel agent. Honest to God, it was the strangest call I’ve ever had in my life. I will find out soon what that was all about, and may or may not tell you about it.
The mechanics found something wrong with the car and it’s going back to the Evil Impound for two weeks, by which time the Old Man would be back and thus I bid my farewell to the very nice car. Also the bill was to be horrendous. The thing about the very nice cars, is that they are also very expensive. I am so glad i don't own the car, cause otherwise i might be forced to sell the cat.
By nine am this morning, we’ve ascertained that the Cavs will win since Celtics died. I wish Kevin Garnett the very best but duh! Le Bron is the best player in the NBA since Michael Jordan. I’ve also rediscovered a Vampire.
Verbal is better at basket ball. He now understands that he didn’t need to kill the ball and in order to play the ball, he needs to pass it to his team mates. I kid you not my dog plays basket ball. Then it fuckin rained.
And so the pissy day ended and I am back in the comfort of my couch with my dog who was strangely listening to Neneh Cherry when I got back. I thought the day was peculiar and therefore, bloggable.
Also from twitter:
unspun@treespotter profounf rubbish, it could be, but rubbish all the same
Read More..
Fat Finger was totally unacceptable for skipping two meetings in one day with no explanation. I’m a little crazy on the side, I’m sure, but I keep my words. At the very least, I will try to keep my own words. When you’re some organic-cosmic excrement, planted in a temporary universe for times of boundless hope, the only thing you ever get to be are your own words. A man can’t be bothered, then surely, I don’t have to either. I’m never a big fan of ‘socially-acceptable lies’.
I had the strangest sms – followed by a ten minute international call – followed by another call to travel agent. Honest to God, it was the strangest call I’ve ever had in my life. I will find out soon what that was all about, and may or may not tell you about it.
The mechanics found something wrong with the car and it’s going back to the Evil Impound for two weeks, by which time the Old Man would be back and thus I bid my farewell to the very nice car. Also the bill was to be horrendous. The thing about the very nice cars, is that they are also very expensive. I am so glad i don't own the car, cause otherwise i might be forced to sell the cat.
By nine am this morning, we’ve ascertained that the Cavs will win since Celtics died. I wish Kevin Garnett the very best but duh! Le Bron is the best player in the NBA since Michael Jordan. I’ve also rediscovered a Vampire.
Verbal is better at basket ball. He now understands that he didn’t need to kill the ball and in order to play the ball, he needs to pass it to his team mates. I kid you not my dog plays basket ball. Then it fuckin rained.
And so the pissy day ended and I am back in the comfort of my couch with my dog who was strangely listening to Neneh Cherry when I got back. I thought the day was peculiar and therefore, bloggable.
Also from twitter:
unspun@treespotter profounf rubbish, it could be, but rubbish all the same
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
on the Story from the Labyrinth
Within this pack pins, points, laces and gloves,
And divers toys fitting a country fair,
But in my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins, Court's brood, a heav'nly pair.
Happy the man that thinks of no removes.
~Fine Knack For Ladies, Jown Downland
The weekend was rather busy with all sorts of things. I realized too late that I was driving a $150,000 car with no insurance. I chose to leave late to avoid the traffic on the new highway me directly from Jakarta city center to downtown Bandung.
The S has the best lights and control I’ve ever tried on any large sedans. The lights were a big deal to me due my faulty retinas. The long distance sensors were gimmicky tho and weren’t too useful on long stretches of four lane highway. Still, it was very easy to drive once you grasped the actual size of the car. It weighs as much as a small truck with near perfect grip of the surface. My only complaint was for some reason, the gears often stalled on three and four but I tamed the beast and we made friends just before the last exit into the city.
Bandung was fun though I didn’t see much of anything. There were a bunch of people at the lobby, some I knew but most were complete strangers. The atmosphere was celebratory so they must’ve thought they already won. I didn’t mind much and proceeded for the lift after some courteous hellos and howreyous.
Vi was in the room, half way through a bottle of red and positively exuberant. She looked exhausted but wanted a few stops before heading back. A bunch of other people we knew were in town and finding directions was easy enough if not for half the city being rerouted for the convention. On her itinerary was a small club for quick drink, then an address on the hills to socialize with even more people I didn’t know.
It was however, declared a non-formal event and so i wasn’t too weird about it. Uncharacteristically, Vivian cleaned her makeup and wearing an oversized tee over very short black hot pants, looking more for the gym rather than a party. It’s not easy for a girl to make her ass look good in sneakers but she managed fine in a brand new pair of Nike jogging shoes. I complimented her ass and she smiled. Vivian’s very pretty, I don’t think I’ve told her that before.
The car was a bitch to park in the narrow steep lanes of Dago hills. I found a place for it well beyond the gate, just covered in the shade, shiny silhouettes on the very fine midnight black finish. Also that meant a long walk to the entrance and I could stare at her ass.
Vivian was rejuvenated by the loud music and I soon lost her in the crowd. Well, that’s not true. She was a stunning woman wearing large silver earrings and scandalously dressed in not much more than basic undergarments. I was not the only person admiring the view. from the distance she looked every bit a Fire Dragon Leo. I was introduced to her highschool friends and childhood friends and neighborhood friends and lost track of the names of the Bandung finest within the first five minutes.
I wasn’t drinking and already planning the trip back in my head. There was a guy at the party who does professional racing and I asked for tips, specifically for the silly shifts. He didn’t know what the problem was but gave me a number of his mechanic to check. The guy drove an M3 and I asked him to time it on the way down. I won’t really be able to clock it with the faulty gears but we could still have some fun. The mechanic was still up and he didn’t recommend switching anything off but assured me that i would most likely survive any horrible incident I was plotting for the weekend. The Mercedez S500 was a five star tank.
There was an old Jedi I haven’t met for a while in the party and picked his thoughts on a particular book. I’ve always a big fan of this particular story and was recently presented with the unique opportunity to actually do a feature with the material. I’m trying to acquire the material, if and when that happened, you would all know about it.
The Jedi knew the book and firstly concerned with the script. The original requires substantial work to turn it into a script and we need people who know the material to do it. He asked if I could turn it around but I honestly didn’t think I could so we need to find someone else. Cello Jedi knew someone he knew someone in the party that might know more about the rights. Introductions were made and my new acquaintance promised to look into it.
Vi thought I should probably have a go at the treatment since I knew it well. The story was essentially about two person in the middle of a very messy, very passionate, very complicated affair. She thought I was an expert the area. I took her suggestion personally and it was organized that everyone will reassemble at my pad back in Jakarta later in the weekend. We made a few calls to invite and I’ve a new project folder in my head.
We talked about casting it though nobody had any truly useful suggestion. I thought we needed to do more character development on it. Director Dude replied to my late night text and ask for a copy delivered before Saturday afternoon. 12 Hours later when I saw him, he seemed to have a good handle on the production side already. He’s always impressive.
I noted that his first suggestion was to do one particular scene all in one take. We both knew exactly which scene we wanted to do and he assumed that I had already worked the extra lines. I haven’t and he looked disappointed but we briefly sketched the outline. Chirpy, who was along for the booze helped clarify that we won’t be doing a teen flick. Everyone wondered if there’s a market for an adult drama. I thought Indonesians need to grow up at some point, and will. Director Dude wanted to have a sex scene. Vivian made me swear on two holy books that I wouldn’t be sleeping with anyone I wrote lines for. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted to but we agreed on a lot of things.
We agreed that the leading roles would be problematic but somewhat manageable. We’re going to Jogja next month to check out the theatre scene. He knew people who knew people and so. Who knows what we might find. I haven’t been to Jogja for a while so that’s always good.
The rest of the night was more socializing and random encounters. Vivian stopped to gather food and conveniences for the two and a half hour trip. I stayed in the car creating playlists for the drive back. I made one for each third of the trip. I saw Vi running into four different groups of people that stopped her for hellos and hugs and whatnot, queued up for a ridiculous amount of time, stole a bubble gum, bought chocolates, cans of instant coffee, packs of cigarettes, mint bites and condoms. I watched and measured the sculptured curves of this particular being, beyond the glass door of the Circle K in the near of the morning in Bandung. Very fine indeed. I pushed the passenger seat all the way back to accommodate our groceries, Bono was singing something about no lines on the horizon. I live in Wonderland and the weather was nice.
We exited Bandung through Padalarang, which was basically an ugly series of interconnecting junctions, two crawling lanes of large trucks and buses. My car packed half the power of those monstrous machines but with one fifth of the bulky mass. I finally got it right and the problematic third gear resolved itself of the awkward timing problem with a lot of manual override. The rest of car performed admirably and beautifully. I spoke to the mechanic once again at four in the morning speeding through Padalarang at a hovering 100 and still couldn’t figure it out.
The drive thru in the daytime would have a better view, Padalarang had rows of vertical cliffs lining up one side of the road, the horizon often spiked up suddenly and unpredictably hundred of meters into the air. I’ve always wanted to climb those but never got around to doing it. At night, you could see nothing but the road. We ran out of U2 and agreed on the Portishead for this part and Vivian fed me plenty of a Mars bars and mint bites and gave me the comprehensive rumour briefing of the Jakarta Elite Underground. There was nothing too juicy but there could be something worth checking. I was mainly occupied with trying to tame the very beautiful car.
The Merc was big, bigger than the older S and bigger than any other sedans I’ve driven before. Tailing and eyeing the opening on between the trucks and buses, before unleashing the throttle quickly became an addictive game and I was getting better at it. It didn’t roar like a sport car – nothing like a 3 series or even a C – but I could feel the enormous power anxiously trapped under my feet, ready to leap at a moment notice. The shift worried me a little but the car never failed. Not once.
Snaking up to Puncak was the boring part from this side. We were so far ahead of the traffic I could properly redline the car. I was nostalgic for a Chemical Brothers album and played the old fashioned audio CD for the climb up. The S was immensely powerful, the huge lights compensated for my oversaturated eyes and handling was unlike anything I have ever driven at that speed before.
In fact, it felt so ridiculously easy, I was really tempted to switch the electronics off for the blast going down. Vivian reminded me of the non-insurance thing and I was convinced to do it with full safety features on. There must be some sort of speed hormones. It took you right the fuck out.
We were listening to the Songs of the Labyrinth on the way down, redlining on a blind corner with a 600 meters drop on one side, in an insured $150,000 car with no insurance and a barely clothed Bandung native heard almost nothing of the outside. Vi found the button for the seat massage and toyed with it.
I was sure it would’ve been the fastest I’ve ever done going down from the top of Puncak Pass to the Safari Park junction had it not for this idiot who took over the whole road for his driving pleasure. I also hit a pothole rather hard and it might’ve screwed something loose but it didn’t.
I pulled over at the house for a quick coffee stop, the flower bed by the pool was blooming egregiously in large buckets of red and yellow roses and Vi took a few of them to take home. A series of SMS streamed into my inbox in, in some kind of scrambled code the author was obviously at pain to explain something to me. Vi looked at the text and giggled, some offhand remark of the madness of little angels on little pins. They tend to tumble easily, those pins.
Vi wondered if I’d anyone in mind for the role. I hadn’t really given it that much thought. I’d some ideas of what she should be like but no one in particular. She thought Candice would an approximate look of the character. I actually thought that Candi could probably do it but it wasn’t an idea to entertain.
We stayed at her place in the city and went to the basketball game. The Indonesian team played well but there will be serious battles ahead. I wasn’t getting enough sleep and cranky and wanted to be back to my own couch with my dog before late. We lazed around the house and probably had sex a few times until most of the Council convened nearing the end of Saturday. Most of them knew the book and I had a few copies made, including a short English summary of it for the non Indonesian speaking visitors. I also write better in English. We agreed to work a little bit more on the book and committed on different errands. A smaller Council met again on Sunday and at the end of Sunday I’ve a much better picture in mind.
Now it’s time to put the work into it.
** to make sure credit goes where its due, the title of this post is from an album by Sting and Edin Karazamov, from music by John Downland, a 16C English compose. Phillip K. Dick sometimes writes using the name John Downland. The album is probably Sting's least known but to my humble opinion, really one of his best.I was listening to it during the whole weekend.
Read More..
And divers toys fitting a country fair,
But in my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins, Court's brood, a heav'nly pair.
Happy the man that thinks of no removes.
~Fine Knack For Ladies, Jown Downland
The weekend was rather busy with all sorts of things. I realized too late that I was driving a $150,000 car with no insurance. I chose to leave late to avoid the traffic on the new highway me directly from Jakarta city center to downtown Bandung.
The S has the best lights and control I’ve ever tried on any large sedans. The lights were a big deal to me due my faulty retinas. The long distance sensors were gimmicky tho and weren’t too useful on long stretches of four lane highway. Still, it was very easy to drive once you grasped the actual size of the car. It weighs as much as a small truck with near perfect grip of the surface. My only complaint was for some reason, the gears often stalled on three and four but I tamed the beast and we made friends just before the last exit into the city.
Bandung was fun though I didn’t see much of anything. There were a bunch of people at the lobby, some I knew but most were complete strangers. The atmosphere was celebratory so they must’ve thought they already won. I didn’t mind much and proceeded for the lift after some courteous hellos and howreyous.
Vi was in the room, half way through a bottle of red and positively exuberant. She looked exhausted but wanted a few stops before heading back. A bunch of other people we knew were in town and finding directions was easy enough if not for half the city being rerouted for the convention. On her itinerary was a small club for quick drink, then an address on the hills to socialize with even more people I didn’t know.
It was however, declared a non-formal event and so i wasn’t too weird about it. Uncharacteristically, Vivian cleaned her makeup and wearing an oversized tee over very short black hot pants, looking more for the gym rather than a party. It’s not easy for a girl to make her ass look good in sneakers but she managed fine in a brand new pair of Nike jogging shoes. I complimented her ass and she smiled. Vivian’s very pretty, I don’t think I’ve told her that before.
The car was a bitch to park in the narrow steep lanes of Dago hills. I found a place for it well beyond the gate, just covered in the shade, shiny silhouettes on the very fine midnight black finish. Also that meant a long walk to the entrance and I could stare at her ass.
Vivian was rejuvenated by the loud music and I soon lost her in the crowd. Well, that’s not true. She was a stunning woman wearing large silver earrings and scandalously dressed in not much more than basic undergarments. I was not the only person admiring the view. from the distance she looked every bit a Fire Dragon Leo. I was introduced to her highschool friends and childhood friends and neighborhood friends and lost track of the names of the Bandung finest within the first five minutes.
I wasn’t drinking and already planning the trip back in my head. There was a guy at the party who does professional racing and I asked for tips, specifically for the silly shifts. He didn’t know what the problem was but gave me a number of his mechanic to check. The guy drove an M3 and I asked him to time it on the way down. I won’t really be able to clock it with the faulty gears but we could still have some fun. The mechanic was still up and he didn’t recommend switching anything off but assured me that i would most likely survive any horrible incident I was plotting for the weekend. The Mercedez S500 was a five star tank.
There was an old Jedi I haven’t met for a while in the party and picked his thoughts on a particular book. I’ve always a big fan of this particular story and was recently presented with the unique opportunity to actually do a feature with the material. I’m trying to acquire the material, if and when that happened, you would all know about it.
The Jedi knew the book and firstly concerned with the script. The original requires substantial work to turn it into a script and we need people who know the material to do it. He asked if I could turn it around but I honestly didn’t think I could so we need to find someone else. Cello Jedi knew someone he knew someone in the party that might know more about the rights. Introductions were made and my new acquaintance promised to look into it.
Vi thought I should probably have a go at the treatment since I knew it well. The story was essentially about two person in the middle of a very messy, very passionate, very complicated affair. She thought I was an expert the area. I took her suggestion personally and it was organized that everyone will reassemble at my pad back in Jakarta later in the weekend. We made a few calls to invite and I’ve a new project folder in my head.
We talked about casting it though nobody had any truly useful suggestion. I thought we needed to do more character development on it. Director Dude replied to my late night text and ask for a copy delivered before Saturday afternoon. 12 Hours later when I saw him, he seemed to have a good handle on the production side already. He’s always impressive.
I noted that his first suggestion was to do one particular scene all in one take. We both knew exactly which scene we wanted to do and he assumed that I had already worked the extra lines. I haven’t and he looked disappointed but we briefly sketched the outline. Chirpy, who was along for the booze helped clarify that we won’t be doing a teen flick. Everyone wondered if there’s a market for an adult drama. I thought Indonesians need to grow up at some point, and will. Director Dude wanted to have a sex scene. Vivian made me swear on two holy books that I wouldn’t be sleeping with anyone I wrote lines for. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted to but we agreed on a lot of things.
We agreed that the leading roles would be problematic but somewhat manageable. We’re going to Jogja next month to check out the theatre scene. He knew people who knew people and so. Who knows what we might find. I haven’t been to Jogja for a while so that’s always good.
The rest of the night was more socializing and random encounters. Vivian stopped to gather food and conveniences for the two and a half hour trip. I stayed in the car creating playlists for the drive back. I made one for each third of the trip. I saw Vi running into four different groups of people that stopped her for hellos and hugs and whatnot, queued up for a ridiculous amount of time, stole a bubble gum, bought chocolates, cans of instant coffee, packs of cigarettes, mint bites and condoms. I watched and measured the sculptured curves of this particular being, beyond the glass door of the Circle K in the near of the morning in Bandung. Very fine indeed. I pushed the passenger seat all the way back to accommodate our groceries, Bono was singing something about no lines on the horizon. I live in Wonderland and the weather was nice.
We exited Bandung through Padalarang, which was basically an ugly series of interconnecting junctions, two crawling lanes of large trucks and buses. My car packed half the power of those monstrous machines but with one fifth of the bulky mass. I finally got it right and the problematic third gear resolved itself of the awkward timing problem with a lot of manual override. The rest of car performed admirably and beautifully. I spoke to the mechanic once again at four in the morning speeding through Padalarang at a hovering 100 and still couldn’t figure it out.
The drive thru in the daytime would have a better view, Padalarang had rows of vertical cliffs lining up one side of the road, the horizon often spiked up suddenly and unpredictably hundred of meters into the air. I’ve always wanted to climb those but never got around to doing it. At night, you could see nothing but the road. We ran out of U2 and agreed on the Portishead for this part and Vivian fed me plenty of a Mars bars and mint bites and gave me the comprehensive rumour briefing of the Jakarta Elite Underground. There was nothing too juicy but there could be something worth checking. I was mainly occupied with trying to tame the very beautiful car.
The Merc was big, bigger than the older S and bigger than any other sedans I’ve driven before. Tailing and eyeing the opening on between the trucks and buses, before unleashing the throttle quickly became an addictive game and I was getting better at it. It didn’t roar like a sport car – nothing like a 3 series or even a C – but I could feel the enormous power anxiously trapped under my feet, ready to leap at a moment notice. The shift worried me a little but the car never failed. Not once.
Snaking up to Puncak was the boring part from this side. We were so far ahead of the traffic I could properly redline the car. I was nostalgic for a Chemical Brothers album and played the old fashioned audio CD for the climb up. The S was immensely powerful, the huge lights compensated for my oversaturated eyes and handling was unlike anything I have ever driven at that speed before.
In fact, it felt so ridiculously easy, I was really tempted to switch the electronics off for the blast going down. Vivian reminded me of the non-insurance thing and I was convinced to do it with full safety features on. There must be some sort of speed hormones. It took you right the fuck out.
We were listening to the Songs of the Labyrinth on the way down, redlining on a blind corner with a 600 meters drop on one side, in an insured $150,000 car with no insurance and a barely clothed Bandung native heard almost nothing of the outside. Vi found the button for the seat massage and toyed with it.
I was sure it would’ve been the fastest I’ve ever done going down from the top of Puncak Pass to the Safari Park junction had it not for this idiot who took over the whole road for his driving pleasure. I also hit a pothole rather hard and it might’ve screwed something loose but it didn’t.
I pulled over at the house for a quick coffee stop, the flower bed by the pool was blooming egregiously in large buckets of red and yellow roses and Vi took a few of them to take home. A series of SMS streamed into my inbox in, in some kind of scrambled code the author was obviously at pain to explain something to me. Vi looked at the text and giggled, some offhand remark of the madness of little angels on little pins. They tend to tumble easily, those pins.
Vi wondered if I’d anyone in mind for the role. I hadn’t really given it that much thought. I’d some ideas of what she should be like but no one in particular. She thought Candice would an approximate look of the character. I actually thought that Candi could probably do it but it wasn’t an idea to entertain.
We stayed at her place in the city and went to the basketball game. The Indonesian team played well but there will be serious battles ahead. I wasn’t getting enough sleep and cranky and wanted to be back to my own couch with my dog before late. We lazed around the house and probably had sex a few times until most of the Council convened nearing the end of Saturday. Most of them knew the book and I had a few copies made, including a short English summary of it for the non Indonesian speaking visitors. I also write better in English. We agreed to work a little bit more on the book and committed on different errands. A smaller Council met again on Sunday and at the end of Sunday I’ve a much better picture in mind.
Now it’s time to put the work into it.
** to make sure credit goes where its due, the title of this post is from an album by Sting and Edin Karazamov, from music by John Downland, a 16C English compose. Phillip K. Dick sometimes writes using the name John Downland. The album is probably Sting's least known but to my humble opinion, really one of his best.I was listening to it during the whole weekend.
Friday, May 15, 2009
on an Amorous Plan
Amour is the one human activity of any importance in which laughter and pleasure preponderate, if ever so slightly, over misery and pain.
~Aldous Huxley
I’m starting early today with hopes that Friday will likewise end early. The sky is grey and the mood sober and I’ve bruises on my knees still from the game yesterday. It's black and blue and hurting like a bitch.
We’ve agreed to go to Hong Kong-Macao instead of Bangkok in two weeks for a weekend away. Vi needs a break and I’m in love with Hong Kong. We're gonna meet J Ho so that will be interesting. She also wants to do shoes.
We’re driving to Bandung today to see SBY’s campaign kickoff and probably check out the party scene over there. Mercedez returned the car the other day and it no longer has the funny lights on the dash. My excuse is I need to try the damn thing to make sure everything is okay. Frankly, a five liter digital German beast about the size of a small truck is a scary thing but the masochistic characteristics appeal to my vanity.
I’m not taking the dog - we’re likely to only snoop around the Demokrat convention for a few hours, greet and meet the powers that be, get the chatter from all this political nonsense, check out one or two of the retard campus crowd in Bandung and drive back as quickly as possible, hopefully to reach Jakarta before sunrise on Saturday.
I asked Vi to wear minimum clothing and get me to meet as many people as possible today. Pimp the politics, everybody else seems to be okay with it.
I’m trying to write several things down, having a hard time doing it since words are just not coming out in the correct order. Expect lots of mush coming out in near future.
She called several times and the effect was bone chilling distraction. I love the voice. I might still be crazy about her but for now, I’m in complete denial. I let the phone ring twice yesterday and stared at it like a fucking idiot. I will deal with it in my due time. Blazing around in a Mercedez S500 with a minimally dressed voluptuous ex prostitute to visit a political convention is my current strategy.
With some luck, I'd forget her completely this weekend.
Two big meetings today and it’s fully expected to go on with no ends.
I might be on Twitter, or maybe not. Have a good Friday, all.
Read More..
~Aldous Huxley
I’m starting early today with hopes that Friday will likewise end early. The sky is grey and the mood sober and I’ve bruises on my knees still from the game yesterday. It's black and blue and hurting like a bitch.
We’ve agreed to go to Hong Kong-Macao instead of Bangkok in two weeks for a weekend away. Vi needs a break and I’m in love with Hong Kong. We're gonna meet J Ho so that will be interesting. She also wants to do shoes.
We’re driving to Bandung today to see SBY’s campaign kickoff and probably check out the party scene over there. Mercedez returned the car the other day and it no longer has the funny lights on the dash. My excuse is I need to try the damn thing to make sure everything is okay. Frankly, a five liter digital German beast about the size of a small truck is a scary thing but the masochistic characteristics appeal to my vanity.
I’m not taking the dog - we’re likely to only snoop around the Demokrat convention for a few hours, greet and meet the powers that be, get the chatter from all this political nonsense, check out one or two of the retard campus crowd in Bandung and drive back as quickly as possible, hopefully to reach Jakarta before sunrise on Saturday.
I asked Vi to wear minimum clothing and get me to meet as many people as possible today. Pimp the politics, everybody else seems to be okay with it.
I’m trying to write several things down, having a hard time doing it since words are just not coming out in the correct order. Expect lots of mush coming out in near future.
She called several times and the effect was bone chilling distraction. I love the voice. I might still be crazy about her but for now, I’m in complete denial. I let the phone ring twice yesterday and stared at it like a fucking idiot. I will deal with it in my due time. Blazing around in a Mercedez S500 with a minimally dressed voluptuous ex prostitute to visit a political convention is my current strategy.
With some luck, I'd forget her completely this weekend.
Two big meetings today and it’s fully expected to go on with no ends.
I might be on Twitter, or maybe not. Have a good Friday, all.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
on 2006
The phone call was a little strange. The call itself wasn’t at a strange hour and the nature of the conversation was not exactly extraordinary, all things considered. It was brief and concise, very much to the point like all calls should be. She doesn’t linger as she never does.
I guess it must’ve been the voice. The way questions were asked and answered, in the very peculiar manner that is so uniquely hers. Thieves and familiars.
I’ve always enjoyed her voice, she was one of the very few people that could glue me to the phone for a few hours at a time. We used to stay up all nights on telephone calls talking random nonsense. I didn’t even need an excuse of some bullshit or another. I just love hearing her on the other end.
Was weird.
Now weirder.
She said something about 2006. I don’t think she was missing 2006. I’m not sure what the exact words were. Maybe that she was feeling all 2006.
I just went back to my blog from May, 2006. Some weird things. I even wrote another post titled 3am. That explains my strange sleep pattern.
Anyway, here’s yours.
Read More..
I guess it must’ve been the voice. The way questions were asked and answered, in the very peculiar manner that is so uniquely hers. Thieves and familiars.
I’ve always enjoyed her voice, she was one of the very few people that could glue me to the phone for a few hours at a time. We used to stay up all nights on telephone calls talking random nonsense. I didn’t even need an excuse of some bullshit or another. I just love hearing her on the other end.
Was weird.
Now weirder.
She said something about 2006. I don’t think she was missing 2006. I’m not sure what the exact words were. Maybe that she was feeling all 2006.
I just went back to my blog from May, 2006. Some weird things. I even wrote another post titled 3am. That explains my strange sleep pattern.
Anyway, here’s yours.
Monday, May 11, 2009
at 3 am
She called me at a strange time. Or may be not and she just always calls at peculiar times. She always calls with some nonsense: shit I’ve done, shit she’s done and every other shit that happened all over. None about what happened today. Or tomorrow.
She called to ask of a particular tape. I’ve the tape. I treasure it. She wasn’t even sure if I’d a copy. I knew I had a copy. It’s the only one worth watching. She was pretty pissy about it.
I thought not much. If I were into tapes, I could’ve made more. She probably knew that. She probably didn’t think that. She probably was just asking.
She was a distraction. She was just always there. She freaks me out. She did and she does. There’s no control switch on this one. I was out of control. She took me out of control. We were out control.
I would’ve wanted her. I probably still do.
Very strange.
Read More..
She called to ask of a particular tape. I’ve the tape. I treasure it. She wasn’t even sure if I’d a copy. I knew I had a copy. It’s the only one worth watching. She was pretty pissy about it.
I thought not much. If I were into tapes, I could’ve made more. She probably knew that. She probably didn’t think that. She probably was just asking.
She was a distraction. She was just always there. She freaks me out. She did and she does. There’s no control switch on this one. I was out of control. She took me out of control. We were out control.
I would’ve wanted her. I probably still do.
Very strange.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
on a Weekend Note
Chuck Daly died - Pistons coach, was with Celtics and others. Arsenal lost in the Champions and F1 in Europe starts this weekend. I missed everything else from the news.
I'm staying in this weekend, a small bbq at home and a few domestic errands. Verbal has one class to go and I've a game on Sunday. We've tons of films to watch.
I finally got hold of Vivian, she was a little shaken but otherwise alright. It was kinda nice to see her tho we didn't talk much at breakfast. She sleeps all day. I agreed to go to Thailand next weekend, the bank says I've a free room or something. We'll spend two days somewhere near the beach and two days in Hong Kong. I've got my new Oz visa and tickets reserved though I probably don't really need to go. Just as well. Sam asked if i want to do an Australian drive trip, but i can't really spare being away for long.
Most other things are good. I'm mostly okay if a little tired. The dog is fun and happy as always. Everyone else do what everyone else always do.
Have a good weekend all!
Read More..
I'm staying in this weekend, a small bbq at home and a few domestic errands. Verbal has one class to go and I've a game on Sunday. We've tons of films to watch.
I finally got hold of Vivian, she was a little shaken but otherwise alright. It was kinda nice to see her tho we didn't talk much at breakfast. She sleeps all day. I agreed to go to Thailand next weekend, the bank says I've a free room or something. We'll spend two days somewhere near the beach and two days in Hong Kong. I've got my new Oz visa and tickets reserved though I probably don't really need to go. Just as well. Sam asked if i want to do an Australian drive trip, but i can't really spare being away for long.
Most other things are good. I'm mostly okay if a little tired. The dog is fun and happy as always. Everyone else do what everyone else always do.
Have a good weekend all!
Friday, May 08, 2009
on Making Sense of Indonesia: Pimping and Electioneering
POLITICS, n.
A strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles. The conduct of public affairs for private advantage.
POLITICIAN, n.
An eel in the fundamental mud upon which the superstructure of organized society is reared. When we wriggles [sic] he mistakes the agitation of his tail for the trembling of the edifice. As compared with the statesman, he suffers the disadvantage of being alive.
~Devil's Dictionary, Ambrose Bierce
Now, back to the electioneering and upcoming presidential election, political promiscuity is reaching a wholesome state of shamelessness.
SBY’s Demokrat is openly signally PDI-P that they could be friends again. These were the two furthest camps due to a history of bad blood – SBY was once a minister in Megawati’s then cabinet, when he exited publicly and announced that he was running for the office in the country’s first direct election. And won by a landslide. Megawati’s been steadily losing support ever since.
This news renders any political speculation moot, now it is just as likely for anyone to be in coalition with anybody else. Ideological integrity be damned, it becomes a game of insiders where only interests collide.
In my personal opinion, PDI-P should stay away from governing anything important. Their economics are mindboggling and the outdated conservative-socialist message requires a major brand reinvention. They can do more good as an opposition to participate in the check and balance of power.
This Demokrat overtures is remarkable for attaining the unimaginable: a Demokrat-PDIP-Golkar in a large coalition readying to do the country good. That would be a coalition that is not really a coalition and would likely only create a dysfunctional and experimental government. The problems will come from bipolar disorders inherent within these powers and the humongous egos within. Megawati is obsessive with the Presidency and seems to settle with nothing less.
Prabowo Soebianto is the dark horse and proves to be popular in the same crowd. They’re natural allies but Prabowo is probably the more interesting of the two, simply because Megawati was once a President already and Prabowo’s completely untested.
Mr. Jusuf Kala from Golkar was in a real shit place and hastily announced his candidacy earlier than everyone else, effectively putting him out of the race – Mr. Vice President is not Javanese and this is widely believed as the current glass ceiling of Indonesian politics: Indonesians have no problems with female presidents or even blind presidents, but the country had never had a non Javanese president.
Them three plus the current president Mr. Bambang Yudhoyono make for a house full of aces. That doesn’t really work in politics.
You add the 20 plus vice president grade candidates spanning the ideological extremes and the resulting coalition will resemble more an orgy of interests and political maneuvering than anything else.
To sum up, here’s the situation: 35+ plus parties competed in the legislative election. Some 10 or so will make it to the parliament, nobody meets the minimum threshold to nominate a President (except for the incumbent SBY Demokrat party), so everyone needs a coalition, even if only to form a minority government.
As of today, it is just as likely for anyone to form a coalition with anyone else. Very weird and very sad.
The last of this series, will be on the murder, affairs, golf caddies and an inside look into the dodgier end of law enforcement in this funny tow - coming up soon this weekend.
Mak
Read More..
A strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles. The conduct of public affairs for private advantage.
POLITICIAN, n.
An eel in the fundamental mud upon which the superstructure of organized society is reared. When we wriggles [sic] he mistakes the agitation of his tail for the trembling of the edifice. As compared with the statesman, he suffers the disadvantage of being alive.
~Devil's Dictionary, Ambrose Bierce
Now, back to the electioneering and upcoming presidential election, political promiscuity is reaching a wholesome state of shamelessness.
SBY’s Demokrat is openly signally PDI-P that they could be friends again. These were the two furthest camps due to a history of bad blood – SBY was once a minister in Megawati’s then cabinet, when he exited publicly and announced that he was running for the office in the country’s first direct election. And won by a landslide. Megawati’s been steadily losing support ever since.
This news renders any political speculation moot, now it is just as likely for anyone to be in coalition with anybody else. Ideological integrity be damned, it becomes a game of insiders where only interests collide.
In my personal opinion, PDI-P should stay away from governing anything important. Their economics are mindboggling and the outdated conservative-socialist message requires a major brand reinvention. They can do more good as an opposition to participate in the check and balance of power.
This Demokrat overtures is remarkable for attaining the unimaginable: a Demokrat-PDIP-Golkar in a large coalition readying to do the country good. That would be a coalition that is not really a coalition and would likely only create a dysfunctional and experimental government. The problems will come from bipolar disorders inherent within these powers and the humongous egos within. Megawati is obsessive with the Presidency and seems to settle with nothing less.
Prabowo Soebianto is the dark horse and proves to be popular in the same crowd. They’re natural allies but Prabowo is probably the more interesting of the two, simply because Megawati was once a President already and Prabowo’s completely untested.
Mr. Jusuf Kala from Golkar was in a real shit place and hastily announced his candidacy earlier than everyone else, effectively putting him out of the race – Mr. Vice President is not Javanese and this is widely believed as the current glass ceiling of Indonesian politics: Indonesians have no problems with female presidents or even blind presidents, but the country had never had a non Javanese president.
Them three plus the current president Mr. Bambang Yudhoyono make for a house full of aces. That doesn’t really work in politics.
You add the 20 plus vice president grade candidates spanning the ideological extremes and the resulting coalition will resemble more an orgy of interests and political maneuvering than anything else.
To sum up, here’s the situation: 35+ plus parties competed in the legislative election. Some 10 or so will make it to the parliament, nobody meets the minimum threshold to nominate a President (except for the incumbent SBY Demokrat party), so everyone needs a coalition, even if only to form a minority government.
As of today, it is just as likely for anyone to form a coalition with anyone else. Very weird and very sad.
The last of this series, will be on the murder, affairs, golf caddies and an inside look into the dodgier end of law enforcement in this funny tow - coming up soon this weekend.
Mak
on Making Sense of Indonesia: Manohara Pinot
Next in the book of Love, is the absolutely astounding Manohara Pinot. This is literally a royal drama involving a jetsetting socialite model, a prince from the neighbouring Kingdom of Kelantan in the Malaysian federation and at this point, just about everyone else in the country.
The short story is, the Prince came and conquered, swoop her off her feet and took her back for a royal wedding. He was shortly found abusive to the newly wedded wife and she flew back to her mom in Jakarta. The Prince then arranged for an elaborate setup involving family pilgrimage trip to Mecca and a private jet to take her back home. At this point, the story suddenly became a plight of a mother to rescue her illegally abducted daughter.
Oh, I forgot to say, she was 17 (or 18, not sure), underage by legal definition.
She tried visited her daughter but her efforts were allegedly stopped short at the border where Malaysian immigration and customs denied her entrance. As ASEAN countries are supposedly free travel zone, that was a bit peculiar. Malaysian television apparently is working in favor of the Prince and she was publicly filmed attending some events with her normally sculpted smile. The mother says she couldn’t even talk to her daughter. The Indonesian Embassy in Malaysia had reportedly made inquiries but not yet getting a response.
The royals were losing it pretty badly in the first news cycle – Ms. Manohara Pinot is a solid member of the super elite club of the uber rich, prior to the Kelantan Prince, she was dating the younger Bakrie. Her mother was not about to go away quietly and her media strategist deserves an honor roll.
Now the Malaysians switch offensive and in their latest trick, the Malaysian dug into deep dirt to find outstanding arrest warrants and court records of the mother, in France, of all places.
This thing could get ugly real quick in the second round.
What do I think of it? I think at least one of the Presidential candidate should campaign for Pinot. It’s a very sexy cause and politically sellable. Weeping mothers and the annoying Malaysians. Malaysia have in the recent years shown a worrying trend of conceiving and abducting Indonesian cultural artifacts. Their policies in regards to the general treatment and protection for Indonesian workers there are despicable at best and that alone involves a few hundred thousand people. ASEAN is supposed to be working for a freer market and Malaysian rabid protectionism shouldn’t be allowed in the court room.
It was sensational and it probably deserves a more complicated explanation or it probably doesn’t.
I think that love makes people do crazy things. It’s not your job to make sense of everything. Plus Malaysians speak funny so they won’t win on tv.
Read More..
The short story is, the Prince came and conquered, swoop her off her feet and took her back for a royal wedding. He was shortly found abusive to the newly wedded wife and she flew back to her mom in Jakarta. The Prince then arranged for an elaborate setup involving family pilgrimage trip to Mecca and a private jet to take her back home. At this point, the story suddenly became a plight of a mother to rescue her illegally abducted daughter.
Oh, I forgot to say, she was 17 (or 18, not sure), underage by legal definition.
She tried visited her daughter but her efforts were allegedly stopped short at the border where Malaysian immigration and customs denied her entrance. As ASEAN countries are supposedly free travel zone, that was a bit peculiar. Malaysian television apparently is working in favor of the Prince and she was publicly filmed attending some events with her normally sculpted smile. The mother says she couldn’t even talk to her daughter. The Indonesian Embassy in Malaysia had reportedly made inquiries but not yet getting a response.
The royals were losing it pretty badly in the first news cycle – Ms. Manohara Pinot is a solid member of the super elite club of the uber rich, prior to the Kelantan Prince, she was dating the younger Bakrie. Her mother was not about to go away quietly and her media strategist deserves an honor roll.
Now the Malaysians switch offensive and in their latest trick, the Malaysian dug into deep dirt to find outstanding arrest warrants and court records of the mother, in France, of all places.
This thing could get ugly real quick in the second round.
What do I think of it? I think at least one of the Presidential candidate should campaign for Pinot. It’s a very sexy cause and politically sellable. Weeping mothers and the annoying Malaysians. Malaysia have in the recent years shown a worrying trend of conceiving and abducting Indonesian cultural artifacts. Their policies in regards to the general treatment and protection for Indonesian workers there are despicable at best and that alone involves a few hundred thousand people. ASEAN is supposed to be working for a freer market and Malaysian rabid protectionism shouldn’t be allowed in the court room.
It was sensational and it probably deserves a more complicated explanation or it probably doesn’t.
I think that love makes people do crazy things. It’s not your job to make sense of everything. Plus Malaysians speak funny so they won’t win on tv.
on Making Sense of Indonesia: Love Conspiracies
Stir it up; come on, baby!
Come on and stir it up, yeah!
Little darlin', stir it up! O-oh!
~Stir It Up, Bob Marley
Wednesdays are very often the peak of the weekly news cycle and today, the rumour mills reached dizzying heights. Domestic news had not been this interesting for almost a decade. The next piece is a bit long, so I’m cutting it into different posts.
From the gossip columns, there are signs of more drama to come from the Soehartos. I am not exactly sure what it is that they are gossiping about these days but really, Bambang most likely have done a paternity test on the kid and the media should leave it at that. So what she was with someone before him? Even if the baby daughter isn’t his, he probably loves her anyway. Why it should even make the news (again) I am not at all sure. Maybe because now there are actually people talking out loud about a very ill timed motorcycle accident.
The cast and crew of the drama above is Bambang Trihatmodjo, the eldest from the clan. Bambang’s business empire spans the nation, his earlier group was Bimantara corporation, now the MNC Group and a public company. One of the country’s richest - if not the most powerful - and the most eligible husband in South East Asia.
He left his first wife in a domestic drama that seized this country’s whole attention for a few weeks last year. They’re also probably the record holder for the most expensive and the messiest divorce in the country. It cost Bambang a quite few cool millions and a whole lot of media scrutiny into a traditionally very introvert family, to leave his wife and be with a mediocre girl from somewhere not on the map who was then probably pregnant with someone else’s kid.
She was working hard in the cruel bottom feeding ends of Jakarta entertainment industry and was then involved with a very pretty looking boy. They were madly in love with each other and had been seen frolicking in public places with lots of pictorial evidence. They were at that junction in their relationship and were expected to announce a wedding date. Some people said she was pregnant.
Then she met Bambang, who was completely smitten and quite frankly, must’ve been slightly nuts. Love works in mysterious ways, the madness of Aphrodite - she was both ruthless and insatiable. Mayangsari left her boyfriend, moved in with Bambang and exploded into the stratosphere of Jakarta super elite few. At some point in the saga, the pretty boyfriend died in a horrible motorcycle accident.
Bambang fought his wife in a divorce court. I found that trial to be one of the most interesting tests for Indonesian divorce courts (for Moslems, a religious court) and women rights in general. It was a test case against polygamy practices. It tested the gender bias in court that had traditionally favored its male members.
Mrs. Trihatmodjo was fighting her husband, the most powerful man in the country, in a very unfavourable court with very unfamiliar rules. She was very media savvy and handled the whole thing with the grace of a durable queen, very well composed and tastily presented.
She had the supports of his sisters so there is now a real crack in the family. By most measures, the court managed to achieve a degree of scrutiny of the Soeharto’s assets that almost no other courts in this country had ever done in the previous ten years. It was a divorce case that had probably done more damage to the family in a few short months than the office of the Attorney General of the republic in ten years.
Frankly, I don’t think Bambang is a stupid guy. He’s a very smart, very rich and very powerful guy. He knows his things best. If he wants a paternity test, he’d probably done it, there’s no rule saying that he needs to tell anyone about it. The public doesn’t need to know.
The little girl is less than two years old and she’s about the have her most intimate secrets out in public before she learns to speak it. You gotta draw the line somewhere. Privacy is dead but common decency is still in fashion.
It was sensational and it probably deserves a more complicated explanation or it probably doesn’t.
I think that love makes people do crazy things.
It’s not your job to make sense of everything.
Read More..
Come on and stir it up, yeah!
Little darlin', stir it up! O-oh!
~Stir It Up, Bob Marley
Wednesdays are very often the peak of the weekly news cycle and today, the rumour mills reached dizzying heights. Domestic news had not been this interesting for almost a decade. The next piece is a bit long, so I’m cutting it into different posts.
From the gossip columns, there are signs of more drama to come from the Soehartos. I am not exactly sure what it is that they are gossiping about these days but really, Bambang most likely have done a paternity test on the kid and the media should leave it at that. So what she was with someone before him? Even if the baby daughter isn’t his, he probably loves her anyway. Why it should even make the news (again) I am not at all sure. Maybe because now there are actually people talking out loud about a very ill timed motorcycle accident.
The cast and crew of the drama above is Bambang Trihatmodjo, the eldest from the clan. Bambang’s business empire spans the nation, his earlier group was Bimantara corporation, now the MNC Group and a public company. One of the country’s richest - if not the most powerful - and the most eligible husband in South East Asia.
He left his first wife in a domestic drama that seized this country’s whole attention for a few weeks last year. They’re also probably the record holder for the most expensive and the messiest divorce in the country. It cost Bambang a quite few cool millions and a whole lot of media scrutiny into a traditionally very introvert family, to leave his wife and be with a mediocre girl from somewhere not on the map who was then probably pregnant with someone else’s kid.
She was working hard in the cruel bottom feeding ends of Jakarta entertainment industry and was then involved with a very pretty looking boy. They were madly in love with each other and had been seen frolicking in public places with lots of pictorial evidence. They were at that junction in their relationship and were expected to announce a wedding date. Some people said she was pregnant.
Then she met Bambang, who was completely smitten and quite frankly, must’ve been slightly nuts. Love works in mysterious ways, the madness of Aphrodite - she was both ruthless and insatiable. Mayangsari left her boyfriend, moved in with Bambang and exploded into the stratosphere of Jakarta super elite few. At some point in the saga, the pretty boyfriend died in a horrible motorcycle accident.
Bambang fought his wife in a divorce court. I found that trial to be one of the most interesting tests for Indonesian divorce courts (for Moslems, a religious court) and women rights in general. It was a test case against polygamy practices. It tested the gender bias in court that had traditionally favored its male members.
Mrs. Trihatmodjo was fighting her husband, the most powerful man in the country, in a very unfavourable court with very unfamiliar rules. She was very media savvy and handled the whole thing with the grace of a durable queen, very well composed and tastily presented.
She had the supports of his sisters so there is now a real crack in the family. By most measures, the court managed to achieve a degree of scrutiny of the Soeharto’s assets that almost no other courts in this country had ever done in the previous ten years. It was a divorce case that had probably done more damage to the family in a few short months than the office of the Attorney General of the republic in ten years.
Frankly, I don’t think Bambang is a stupid guy. He’s a very smart, very rich and very powerful guy. He knows his things best. If he wants a paternity test, he’d probably done it, there’s no rule saying that he needs to tell anyone about it. The public doesn’t need to know.
The little girl is less than two years old and she’s about the have her most intimate secrets out in public before she learns to speak it. You gotta draw the line somewhere. Privacy is dead but common decency is still in fashion.
It was sensational and it probably deserves a more complicated explanation or it probably doesn’t.
I think that love makes people do crazy things.
It’s not your job to make sense of everything.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
on Lego Photography
For Jedis out there. I came across this super cool Flckr Photoset by Mike Stimpson, a really cool Lego photographers. The link above takes to his Flickr Starwars. Below is a Lego Iwo Jima, also his photograph.
on the Old Man
Brief update for those who knows.
The old man is officially alright, once again he prevailed though we’re not entirely certain how many more times he could do it. Not being morbid or anything, but he is, north of 80 at the moment and that is pretty darn old.
They are all on their way to Australia. I am not expected to be there but Sis thought I should go. Samantha is flying with them and it would be nice to spend a little time with some friends and family but I’m not sure I can actually afford it. I am checking tickets anyway and reserve the final calls until I heard more from them. The old man could conceivably convince them to fly him back any day now.
They’re off to Sydney by the way. I haven’t been to Sydney for some years now. I spent a brief six days visit to Australia in 1991 under the pretension that I was there to school. I never really wanted to go to school and instead spent most of the three days in Sydney having fun and three days being sick in Melbourne. Sydney was never too special but the people were nice and many I have not seen for a while.
The old man maintains a residential address there to recuperate for a few weeks in the year. He keeps a very large flower garden and does nothing else. He religiously tracks football leagues and usually has a few screens, all showing different games. Either that or the little grandchildren would be playing their video games. Nobody gets to him in Sydney.
It’s probably good for him. When I saw him on the way to the airport, he told me to arrange for his favourite cigarette to be delivered Downunder. He smokes a very particular brand that you don’t get anywhere else beyond Central Java. I wanted to ask if he really did transport contrabands in his younger days but decided against it.
Anyway, so they are all good and happy and I may or may not travel to see them soonish.
I may or may not update you of such progresses as this is actually a blog and not a public announcement board.
Read More..
The old man is officially alright, once again he prevailed though we’re not entirely certain how many more times he could do it. Not being morbid or anything, but he is, north of 80 at the moment and that is pretty darn old.
They are all on their way to Australia. I am not expected to be there but Sis thought I should go. Samantha is flying with them and it would be nice to spend a little time with some friends and family but I’m not sure I can actually afford it. I am checking tickets anyway and reserve the final calls until I heard more from them. The old man could conceivably convince them to fly him back any day now.
They’re off to Sydney by the way. I haven’t been to Sydney for some years now. I spent a brief six days visit to Australia in 1991 under the pretension that I was there to school. I never really wanted to go to school and instead spent most of the three days in Sydney having fun and three days being sick in Melbourne. Sydney was never too special but the people were nice and many I have not seen for a while.
The old man maintains a residential address there to recuperate for a few weeks in the year. He keeps a very large flower garden and does nothing else. He religiously tracks football leagues and usually has a few screens, all showing different games. Either that or the little grandchildren would be playing their video games. Nobody gets to him in Sydney.
It’s probably good for him. When I saw him on the way to the airport, he told me to arrange for his favourite cigarette to be delivered Downunder. He smokes a very particular brand that you don’t get anywhere else beyond Central Java. I wanted to ask if he really did transport contrabands in his younger days but decided against it.
Anyway, so they are all good and happy and I may or may not travel to see them soonish.
I may or may not update you of such progresses as this is actually a blog and not a public announcement board.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
on Blogging Prostitutes
A single sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and read the papers.
~Albert Camus
A lunch conversation the other day inevitably drifted towards ‘blogging’. He quipped that he didn’t have time to read blogs.
Frankly, I don’t read much of blogs either.
I consume little of the mainstream media and mostly get my information via intuition like mothers and hookers. In the data deluge, blogs don’t really add much flavor. I enjoy writing and while I went through a phase where I religiously check the logs, the novelty soon wore off. When people read my blog, it’s more often a sign of trouble.
I have to admit that my blog is much less interesting these days (I used to write about antique toilets in Melbourne, for example, which was very interesting to some people other than myself).
I have not anything useful to tell recently and my social life has taken to new bizarre heights that writing about it sounds too much like I was making things up.
That, and the (often mentioned) fact that I am no longer funny.
Also despite seeing a prostitute on regular basis, I don’t actually giveaway the saucy details.
For a smut peddler, I am pretty lame.
Then of course, there’s the obvious point about me making a point of this too many times already.
You can only write about you writing a boring blog so many times. I did ponder about this very thing a few times before and this post is not at all different to those other ones. Blogs tend to get repetitive after a while.
There must be a remedy to this and I am determined to find out.
* Away from the subject of blogging and prostituting, someone asked about the wisdom about blogging the prostituting. He was referring to Vivian’s past undercover activity, obviously most of the fellow Council members are aware of her dealings though few ever say anything out loud.
This person - my friends do have the tendencies to ask the unquestionables - wondered if it was wise for me to write about her, or more accurately, about my involvement with her. If i surmised correctly, this person had objections to her profession.
Of course, most persons would not bother to consider that she is hardly your corner chick. I personally consider only cheap hookers as prostitutes - once you’re a Prada regular then we’re in brand immersion territory. She is not what you would call, 'affordable entertainment'.
Others stopped and stared at her legs and and bother not with the occupational details. She is a very pleasant thing to watch.
I was tempted to say that it was none of his concerns. What she does to other people in her own time is not at all his concerns. They don't even have to be friends.
I don’t even consider it my concern, so I can’t see why it should be his, but since I blogged about it then he’s probably allowed the question.
I was thus tempted to explain that I do not actually engage in prostitution. I generally don’t have sex with that woman and if and when I did so, I certainly never proposed any monetary compensation for the (excellent) services rendered.
Vivian is a good friend, one that doesn't ask too many difficult question, and she’s a Fire Dragon Leo (we share the exact same birthday). A certain rich and powerful (and most recently infected) old man pays her bills. To me that does not qualify her as a prostitute although I could not find a better description in my somewhat limited vocabulary (and it makes for a more interesting blog theme).
Frankly, I don’t care about it enough to make it my business (except in the unfortunate circumstance where our lives crossed path with deadly and horrible viruses).
Life is full enough already with the Hypocritical Masses, War Criminals, Wannabe Presidents, Politicians and Smut Peddlers for me to care about what a girl do for a living.
Maybe now he will stop reading my blog.
PS: This post is from a while ago and was published by mistake. I've made some editing and i don't have any copy of the original. The edits are inconsequential and certainly very arbitrary. The original fuck you tone applies.
Read More..
~Albert Camus
A lunch conversation the other day inevitably drifted towards ‘blogging’. He quipped that he didn’t have time to read blogs.
Frankly, I don’t read much of blogs either.
I consume little of the mainstream media and mostly get my information via intuition like mothers and hookers. In the data deluge, blogs don’t really add much flavor. I enjoy writing and while I went through a phase where I religiously check the logs, the novelty soon wore off. When people read my blog, it’s more often a sign of trouble.
I have to admit that my blog is much less interesting these days (I used to write about antique toilets in Melbourne, for example, which was very interesting to some people other than myself).
I have not anything useful to tell recently and my social life has taken to new bizarre heights that writing about it sounds too much like I was making things up.
That, and the (often mentioned) fact that I am no longer funny.
Also despite seeing a prostitute on regular basis, I don’t actually giveaway the saucy details.
For a smut peddler, I am pretty lame.
Then of course, there’s the obvious point about me making a point of this too many times already.
You can only write about you writing a boring blog so many times. I did ponder about this very thing a few times before and this post is not at all different to those other ones. Blogs tend to get repetitive after a while.
There must be a remedy to this and I am determined to find out.
* Away from the subject of blogging and prostituting, someone asked about the wisdom about blogging the prostituting. He was referring to Vivian’s past undercover activity, obviously most of the fellow Council members are aware of her dealings though few ever say anything out loud.
This person - my friends do have the tendencies to ask the unquestionables - wondered if it was wise for me to write about her, or more accurately, about my involvement with her. If i surmised correctly, this person had objections to her profession.
Of course, most persons would not bother to consider that she is hardly your corner chick. I personally consider only cheap hookers as prostitutes - once you’re a Prada regular then we’re in brand immersion territory. She is not what you would call, 'affordable entertainment'.
Others stopped and stared at her legs and and bother not with the occupational details. She is a very pleasant thing to watch.
I was tempted to say that it was none of his concerns. What she does to other people in her own time is not at all his concerns. They don't even have to be friends.
I don’t even consider it my concern, so I can’t see why it should be his, but since I blogged about it then he’s probably allowed the question.
I was thus tempted to explain that I do not actually engage in prostitution. I generally don’t have sex with that woman and if and when I did so, I certainly never proposed any monetary compensation for the (excellent) services rendered.
Vivian is a good friend, one that doesn't ask too many difficult question, and she’s a Fire Dragon Leo (we share the exact same birthday). A certain rich and powerful (and most recently infected) old man pays her bills. To me that does not qualify her as a prostitute although I could not find a better description in my somewhat limited vocabulary (and it makes for a more interesting blog theme).
Frankly, I don’t care about it enough to make it my business (except in the unfortunate circumstance where our lives crossed path with deadly and horrible viruses).
Life is full enough already with the Hypocritical Masses, War Criminals, Wannabe Presidents, Politicians and Smut Peddlers for me to care about what a girl do for a living.
Maybe now he will stop reading my blog.
PS: This post is from a while ago and was published by mistake. I've made some editing and i don't have any copy of the original. The edits are inconsequential and certainly very arbitrary. The original fuck you tone applies.
on Spanking Rabbi
Saw this GIF banner ad somewhere on the internet and couldn't stop laughing for a while. The other frames are a little lewd and NSFW so i don't post it here. Feel free to google if you're into spanking Rabbi
List of Films I am Really Waiting to See
- Inglorious Basterds
- Wolverine
- Taking Woodstock
- Watchmen
- Transformers
- GI Joe
- Wall Street 2
- Iron Man 2
Wolverine and Watchmen I saw and am very, very pleased with both. I saw Wolverine twice already. GI Joe I used to have a number of the toy thing and Gordon Gekko was my favourite villain for a long while. Summer will be fun.
None of them except for Basterds are original movie material. IB is a Quentin Tarantino film – he’s about to have fun with the Nazis.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
on Indonesian Prisons, Courts and Its Drugs Policy
The Indonesian Supreme Court reportedly has a directive circulating in the lower courts: they’re not to prosecute small time users anymore. Specifically, marijuana possession for personal consumption should no longer be a matter for the court. The threshold was apparently a single joint (the court wasn’t specific in what it deemed to be a regular joint, I’m assuming they’re still researching).
The police, of course, is having none of that. They will continue to seize and arrest and put evil stoners behind bars. Prison overcrowding is not really their concern and social values reassignment is certainly not a strongpoint of this institution.
Prosecution is not their business and they’re not about to make it their business. They say it’s up to the court to give whatever sentencing it deemed necessary. (The Supreme Court says it’s more about resource allocation and focus on areas with the most impact – the prison is too full as it is with low life jerkoffs and people who don’t really need to be in prison). I’ve not heard anyone from the AG’s office talk about it.
Strangely enough, I also haven’t come across any media reports on this memo yet (I am not aware of any news article on the subject, do forward if any). It sounds a lot like the Supreme Court is (trying to) decriminalizing marijuana possession (something I am in complete support for).
First of all, Indonesian prisons are insanely overcrowded. I wrote about it a while ago but the numbers are most likely even worse today. Most cells lack completely all and any hygiene measures and have very little safety measures in place. Most buildings are decades old and designed as an effective death trap. The conditions are brutal and the law degenerates to a market mechanism.
There’s an entire economy to it, an international map resembling the criminal networks held within its walls. Drug dealers, gun runners, occasional radicals, perverts and psychopaths of all colours. The recent increase in extended visits by the nation dignitaries upgrades some of them with basic infrastructure. Most of the helipads are now functioning in the country’s largest prisons. Clean water is at least available for some but for the common criminals, Indonesian prison is not a nice place.
Violent crimes and international cartels are showing a worrying trend in the large cities. A few months ago, the police arrested a few Russians for a mafia style execution. The biggest headline at the moment is an assassination of a CEO, allegedly masterminded by the country’s very popular anti corruption czar. Two bullets in the head on the backseat of a BMW from a speeding bike, how very cliché.
The country needs to do something about prison overcrowding and a handle on violent crimes before something really awful happened, (Sao Paulo comes to mind).
I don’t have exact numbers but I suspect a lot of those are prison for drugs. A large swath of the population would be garden variety drug users. Stoners and meth zombies and other useless dorks. Those guys went in a pretty face with a little bit of party habits and came out hardened criminals.
The simplest way to rethink prison overcrowding is to seriously rethink its drug policy and stop attempting to do – unrealistically – everything all at once. The court system is urgently needing a complete overhaul. SBY did an admirable job with prosecutions but he needs to do more in the next five years.
Indonesian court is the weak link in the system. They are lead by notoriously corrupt and massively underpaid judges. They have little access to information and archiving is an anecdotal afterthought. Sentencing consistently lack any consistency: a chicken thief go to prison for roughly the same time as a regional meth lord. Judges are underpaid, disenfranchised and very largely unprotected. When faced with difficult cases in some remote jungle, they tend to first think for their own survival.
Drugs arrest is a fuel to this very bad economy. More than any other cases – corruption cases are valuable but frequently arrive with an intensive media scrutiny – drug cases overload the system with cheap arrests of school kids and stoned manga fans, wealthy middle class patrons and celebrity lawyers.
The Supreme Court is making a practical decision, in effect to start doing serious capacity planning in best allocating its very limited resources and at once snuffing out this economy. It’s a good call to make and I think it’s time the country also reconsider its approach to drugs. Does it even have a Drugs Policy?
Does any of the presidential candidates have a drug policy?
Read More..
The police, of course, is having none of that. They will continue to seize and arrest and put evil stoners behind bars. Prison overcrowding is not really their concern and social values reassignment is certainly not a strongpoint of this institution.
Prosecution is not their business and they’re not about to make it their business. They say it’s up to the court to give whatever sentencing it deemed necessary. (The Supreme Court says it’s more about resource allocation and focus on areas with the most impact – the prison is too full as it is with low life jerkoffs and people who don’t really need to be in prison). I’ve not heard anyone from the AG’s office talk about it.
Strangely enough, I also haven’t come across any media reports on this memo yet (I am not aware of any news article on the subject, do forward if any). It sounds a lot like the Supreme Court is (trying to) decriminalizing marijuana possession (something I am in complete support for).
First of all, Indonesian prisons are insanely overcrowded. I wrote about it a while ago but the numbers are most likely even worse today. Most cells lack completely all and any hygiene measures and have very little safety measures in place. Most buildings are decades old and designed as an effective death trap. The conditions are brutal and the law degenerates to a market mechanism.
There’s an entire economy to it, an international map resembling the criminal networks held within its walls. Drug dealers, gun runners, occasional radicals, perverts and psychopaths of all colours. The recent increase in extended visits by the nation dignitaries upgrades some of them with basic infrastructure. Most of the helipads are now functioning in the country’s largest prisons. Clean water is at least available for some but for the common criminals, Indonesian prison is not a nice place.
Violent crimes and international cartels are showing a worrying trend in the large cities. A few months ago, the police arrested a few Russians for a mafia style execution. The biggest headline at the moment is an assassination of a CEO, allegedly masterminded by the country’s very popular anti corruption czar. Two bullets in the head on the backseat of a BMW from a speeding bike, how very cliché.
The country needs to do something about prison overcrowding and a handle on violent crimes before something really awful happened, (Sao Paulo comes to mind).
I don’t have exact numbers but I suspect a lot of those are prison for drugs. A large swath of the population would be garden variety drug users. Stoners and meth zombies and other useless dorks. Those guys went in a pretty face with a little bit of party habits and came out hardened criminals.
The simplest way to rethink prison overcrowding is to seriously rethink its drug policy and stop attempting to do – unrealistically – everything all at once. The court system is urgently needing a complete overhaul. SBY did an admirable job with prosecutions but he needs to do more in the next five years.
Indonesian court is the weak link in the system. They are lead by notoriously corrupt and massively underpaid judges. They have little access to information and archiving is an anecdotal afterthought. Sentencing consistently lack any consistency: a chicken thief go to prison for roughly the same time as a regional meth lord. Judges are underpaid, disenfranchised and very largely unprotected. When faced with difficult cases in some remote jungle, they tend to first think for their own survival.
Drugs arrest is a fuel to this very bad economy. More than any other cases – corruption cases are valuable but frequently arrive with an intensive media scrutiny – drug cases overload the system with cheap arrests of school kids and stoned manga fans, wealthy middle class patrons and celebrity lawyers.
The Supreme Court is making a practical decision, in effect to start doing serious capacity planning in best allocating its very limited resources and at once snuffing out this economy. It’s a good call to make and I think it’s time the country also reconsider its approach to drugs. Does it even have a Drugs Policy?
Does any of the presidential candidates have a drug policy?
Friday, May 01, 2009
on Letting the Expat Vote
Buy the ticket, take the ride.
~Hunter S. Thompson
I think they should let the expats vote in the presidential election. Just provide extra copies of ballot everywhere for people that actually want to vote.
Expats are not allowed to vote in Indonesia because they are not to be trusted with the real serious decision making and such important business are best left exclusively to Indonesian. Or so was the general idea. Well, mainly it’s because they’re not really Indonesian and not much else.
Doesn’t matter that Indonesia is a very confused country when it comes to what Indonesia really means.
I propose that Indonesia let the expatriate community vote. Maybe the ballot should be pink, or brown, but they should vote. Maybe they can vote later in the day, after the natives (expats are better at queuing). Subtle signals of distinct national identity, yet resolute in assimilating the global experience.
And since the Election Committee are perfectly capable of screwing things up reliably in ballot management, a few hundred thousand extra votes really, wouldn’t turn things any which way. My interest here are strictly and purely, academic.
In all fairness, most expats know how to make this country better because they have seen better, so they will probably make the better voters. All votes are equal but some are more equal than others.
The few natives that I conversed with had serious objections. They resented the idea that Indonesia let others chose their faith. They refused to let somebody else screw up their beloved conceptual Nation. The other one thought all expats were mad. I failed to convince him that this was not true.
I have yet to investigate the deeper psyche to this strange nationalism streak but already I don’t like it very much. The romantics are best left painting pictures and rosy words. They shouldn’t be let around with flag waving machine guns and economic policy. It’s just too dangerous, regardless of cause. In a chronic multiple personality case, this is where Indonesia wants to be its other self almost as much as it is wanting to be what it is now. It’s the final loop before loopy.
I don’t think the idea will really take off but it’s worthwhile as a conversation starter. It keeps things from becoming too stale. The expats probably won’t even turn up anyway.
Read More..
~Hunter S. Thompson
I think they should let the expats vote in the presidential election. Just provide extra copies of ballot everywhere for people that actually want to vote.
Expats are not allowed to vote in Indonesia because they are not to be trusted with the real serious decision making and such important business are best left exclusively to Indonesian. Or so was the general idea. Well, mainly it’s because they’re not really Indonesian and not much else.
Doesn’t matter that Indonesia is a very confused country when it comes to what Indonesia really means.
I propose that Indonesia let the expatriate community vote. Maybe the ballot should be pink, or brown, but they should vote. Maybe they can vote later in the day, after the natives (expats are better at queuing). Subtle signals of distinct national identity, yet resolute in assimilating the global experience.
And since the Election Committee are perfectly capable of screwing things up reliably in ballot management, a few hundred thousand extra votes really, wouldn’t turn things any which way. My interest here are strictly and purely, academic.
In all fairness, most expats know how to make this country better because they have seen better, so they will probably make the better voters. All votes are equal but some are more equal than others.
The few natives that I conversed with had serious objections. They resented the idea that Indonesia let others chose their faith. They refused to let somebody else screw up their beloved conceptual Nation. The other one thought all expats were mad. I failed to convince him that this was not true.
I have yet to investigate the deeper psyche to this strange nationalism streak but already I don’t like it very much. The romantics are best left painting pictures and rosy words. They shouldn’t be let around with flag waving machine guns and economic policy. It’s just too dangerous, regardless of cause. In a chronic multiple personality case, this is where Indonesia wants to be its other self almost as much as it is wanting to be what it is now. It’s the final loop before loopy.
I don’t think the idea will really take off but it’s worthwhile as a conversation starter. It keeps things from becoming too stale. The expats probably won’t even turn up anyway.
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