a fleeing Schipol. Dec,27.2005.08.00 am.
with snow covering the wings of airplane and the crystal clear ice melting on the window, slides of film in an international airport at dawn emerged. See indians with their modern suits and children in the baby carriages. And Sikh with turban, or the furry booted lady (like the ones Cameron Diaz popularized) and an unshaved man holding her hands. Also the annoying barbie wannabe little girl with top down pink furry coat and boots, yelling she wanna buy a gossip magz in the See Buy Fly.
Funny,huh. All the politics (which have converted into peace war policy), and those which have concerned Medicine Sans Frontiers. They turbinate and pulsate around you. Humans, whose core are love and family. Big politics and war maintain your love to keep on burning in between.
those big bangs...are covering one tiny most prescious philosophy on earth,
love.
and the christmas tree with maroon silver balls, nila ribbons, and reddish lights were standing, letting the walkers interact and see, whether the politics work.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
leaving the hectic final tests to a freezing silent oldies country brings myriad of, let's say...things (it's self explanatory), specially, the feeling of nationalism, at last (after the unworking years of PPKn and nation and nationality subjects). How it sucks the mind when you hear the argument of exploitations upon immigrant workers are highly justifiable, and how they laugh a lot upon a japanese guy who propose a legally enforcable minimum wages for all people in a first world country. Somehow, i'm no longer interested in the typical caucasian good looking males anymore. Umm...not. Leave one space for Mr.Eastaugh, a sharp melancholic eyes beholder from the department of English and literature, whom we (Santi and Dhika also participated highly) usually coded as Mas Joni. hehehe.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
For a while, you’re still in the dark
Ah yes, sir…
Plus sinked blood stern, culminated acid on the t-junction of my t area
And American Psycho bells reminding me for haven’t found any
And the four-legged man said
“Do you like dark movies?”, and a thrown idea of gothic, Freudian psychoanalysis, Byronic hero, binary opposition, famme fatale, dimsel in distress, Christine of the phantom, interview with the vampires, romanticism hippies grown to yuppies, tilted flowers, bright city bright lights, and grey suits flew
keep maintain me normal, please, I pledged to his eyes.
Ah yes, sir…
Plus sinked blood stern, culminated acid on the t-junction of my t area
And American Psycho bells reminding me for haven’t found any
And the four-legged man said
“Do you like dark movies?”, and a thrown idea of gothic, Freudian psychoanalysis, Byronic hero, binary opposition, famme fatale, dimsel in distress, Christine of the phantom, interview with the vampires, romanticism hippies grown to yuppies, tilted flowers, bright city bright lights, and grey suits flew
keep maintain me normal, please, I pledged to his eyes.
Monday, December 12, 2005
baby,
Sit on your fatty ass
When you hear the names mentioned
And you don’t wanna peep even through the glass
since you don’t want the drop catches attention
so honey,
Sit on your fatty ass
With the cards play seems may drag your direction
From your farfetched dream being in their class
And the cannon doesn’t even know the healing caption
And dear,
Sit on your fatty ass
Press your knees to your bourbon
Sip the distilled whiskey to your mind carcass
When he disturbs your ‘Janie’s Got A Gun’
And how your absent hearted spills makes him crushed
Sit on your fatty ass
When you hear the names mentioned
And you don’t wanna peep even through the glass
since you don’t want the drop catches attention
so honey,
Sit on your fatty ass
With the cards play seems may drag your direction
From your farfetched dream being in their class
And the cannon doesn’t even know the healing caption
And dear,
Sit on your fatty ass
Press your knees to your bourbon
Sip the distilled whiskey to your mind carcass
When he disturbs your ‘Janie’s Got A Gun’
And how your absent hearted spills makes him crushed
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Friday, December 09, 2005
I AM a kid of third world country
When unfortunes strike my life, two options lay, to blame myself or my misfortune being in this country.
One dry sunny morning with polluted particles dusked from big tires. Don’t blame me when I selfishly choose air conditioner as the best invention besides electricity. Waiting for air conditioned bus is not for those who can’t stand. It needs a half to three quarter hour. Getting the bus, stood on the frontiest array of standing people, with nothing to grip. Ass on someone’s something, and literally, you needed to cover your breasts to avoid a contact with walking conductor collecting 5,500 rupiahs. And while the feet were tensed in balancing the result of sudden breaks, the same feet had to hang on for one and a half hour in a horrible traffic jam. Okay with all the conditions, meaning that yes, it is acceptable to stand in a public transportation. But, the idea of you could do nothing for one and a half hour is just so sad.
I kept on agreeing Amartya Sen on his thought that poverty happen because of limited chances. Including the chance to do something in one and a half hour, I may add. My pray and slander were answered. Getting off from the bus, took the other final one, and, vale… empty seats, functioned well air conditioner with slight smell of oranged scented cheap car fresherners, and songs…do that to me one more time, one is never enough for a man like you…
And the excitement of last night appeared. The excitement which could successfully erased my sadomasochist thoughts when I saw Kuch Kuch Hota He (spelling correction, anyone?) at that afternoon. I could no longer parallelize my experience with any kind of love stories.
It is now
Unmeaningful.
And, the dawn boy, do that to me one more time…
Because one is never enough for a man like you, not him.
One dry sunny morning with polluted particles dusked from big tires. Don’t blame me when I selfishly choose air conditioner as the best invention besides electricity. Waiting for air conditioned bus is not for those who can’t stand. It needs a half to three quarter hour. Getting the bus, stood on the frontiest array of standing people, with nothing to grip. Ass on someone’s something, and literally, you needed to cover your breasts to avoid a contact with walking conductor collecting 5,500 rupiahs. And while the feet were tensed in balancing the result of sudden breaks, the same feet had to hang on for one and a half hour in a horrible traffic jam. Okay with all the conditions, meaning that yes, it is acceptable to stand in a public transportation. But, the idea of you could do nothing for one and a half hour is just so sad.
I kept on agreeing Amartya Sen on his thought that poverty happen because of limited chances. Including the chance to do something in one and a half hour, I may add. My pray and slander were answered. Getting off from the bus, took the other final one, and, vale… empty seats, functioned well air conditioner with slight smell of oranged scented cheap car fresherners, and songs…do that to me one more time, one is never enough for a man like you…
And the excitement of last night appeared. The excitement which could successfully erased my sadomasochist thoughts when I saw Kuch Kuch Hota He (spelling correction, anyone?) at that afternoon. I could no longer parallelize my experience with any kind of love stories.
It is now
Unmeaningful.
And, the dawn boy, do that to me one more time…
Because one is never enough for a man like you, not him.
A consolation for the lost
This is my latest weekend after you said good luck. Yes, only that, without sweeteners like you used to pour. Honda city. The hotel. The lovers of the Artic Circle. Teater Utan Kayu. Stinky man. A couple. A hundred thousand rupiahs for a bowl of tasteless, big sized noodle. Late conversation. With someone resembles you. Late awake. Made Nick Long and Redwan wait for long. Nick said Daniel Redcliffe was joining England selection for WUDC. Redcliffe was a debater. Taksi Putra. 52. two hours. Cipinang Jaya. Supermarket Divine. Conversation. The eccentric lecturer’s home. Ten o’clock. Convenient store. Pringles. Smax. Batteries. Two bottles of Aqua. A man and two cartons of cigarettes. Kosti. Happy Saturday night wish for the taxi driver. Loosening chat with Miranda. Muhammad was the latest prophet. The message completed. McDonald’s delivery. Fillet o fish. The daily show. Adjudicate. Ridiculous photo session with Donny. Break night party. Someone else’s RX.
Went home, and he said, “ You’re rarely be on a motorcycle, aren’t you?”
“I was used to. But now, no more,” I replied.
A photographer, a film maker, a smoker, on the same religion and ethnicity, a silent boy, boy… it’s so safe?
Went home, and he said, “ You’re rarely be on a motorcycle, aren’t you?”
“I was used to. But now, no more,” I replied.
A photographer, a film maker, a smoker, on the same religion and ethnicity, a silent boy, boy… it’s so safe?
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Kalau kau ingin membuat segalanya tak bermakna
cungkilah tiap detail warna yang ada
Ceritakan setiap saat di kala kau bisa
Sebanyak orang yang kausuka
Hingga kepingan habis, kosong, dan menganga
dan kau akan mengiya
cerita-cerita itu bukan apa-apa
bagi dirinya, bagi mereka, bagi dunia
bagi dirimu
sehingga kau dapat melapisinya dengan kalkir
dan membuatnya rabun, jauh, tidak berwarna, penuh miasma
walaupun sebenarnya
ada.
cungkilah tiap detail warna yang ada
Ceritakan setiap saat di kala kau bisa
Sebanyak orang yang kausuka
Hingga kepingan habis, kosong, dan menganga
dan kau akan mengiya
cerita-cerita itu bukan apa-apa
bagi dirinya, bagi mereka, bagi dunia
bagi dirimu
sehingga kau dapat melapisinya dengan kalkir
dan membuatnya rabun, jauh, tidak berwarna, penuh miasma
walaupun sebenarnya
ada.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Crack
Brag
Slack
what I hate when my friends just fall in love?
They do not share moments with you again
Specially the guys.
Or, I hate this, because I will rethink, are we really friends? Or I just coincidently meet them and shares things.
Without particular care for each other.
And, this forces me also to believe in the concept that love doesn’t take, but give
Only, which I didn’t buy before.
Make me rethink again, why love should be prioritized over some kiddy games and laughter sessions?
I just don’t get it.
Special, for: the long haired pianist and the bald manager!
Wake up guys, smell the coffee!!!
Brag
Slack
what I hate when my friends just fall in love?
They do not share moments with you again
Specially the guys.
Or, I hate this, because I will rethink, are we really friends? Or I just coincidently meet them and shares things.
Without particular care for each other.
And, this forces me also to believe in the concept that love doesn’t take, but give
Only, which I didn’t buy before.
Make me rethink again, why love should be prioritized over some kiddy games and laughter sessions?
I just don’t get it.
Special, for: the long haired pianist and the bald manager!
Wake up guys, smell the coffee!!!
Monday, November 21, 2005
tale taled heart
somehow the lines written all over in biography books turned out reality last day when I said to myself I won't let anyone hurt myself anymore. Hopefully my self-defense turns bolder now. Let's see...
waking in early morning on Sunday, went to Fasilkom to debate, and fascinatingly at eight o'clock at night, debates had soothed me. Weird, but true. Went back home, helped my mom doing the laundries until 1.30 in the morning, set the alarm, had a good night sleep and dreamt shopped over Plaza Indonesia. woke up at 7.00 and had a phonecall to go to university administration center, it's about letters, as usual. And a comunicative class with Moncho, "No es bueno tener un solo hijo, crees? o la madre trabaja siempre mas que el padre, crees?" "Creo que si por las preguntas...," I said. Felt thankful to Bobo, because the Fernando Alonso article helped me a lot in Moncho's task in the class: imagining un persona latino. Think that Alonso es perfecto suficiente.
And I've haven't been hurt since el sabado. So far...
waking in early morning on Sunday, went to Fasilkom to debate, and fascinatingly at eight o'clock at night, debates had soothed me. Weird, but true. Went back home, helped my mom doing the laundries until 1.30 in the morning, set the alarm, had a good night sleep and dreamt shopped over Plaza Indonesia. woke up at 7.00 and had a phonecall to go to university administration center, it's about letters, as usual. And a comunicative class with Moncho, "No es bueno tener un solo hijo, crees? o la madre trabaja siempre mas que el padre, crees?" "Creo que si por las preguntas...," I said. Felt thankful to Bobo, because the Fernando Alonso article helped me a lot in Moncho's task in the class: imagining un persona latino. Think that Alonso es perfecto suficiente.
And I've haven't been hurt since el sabado. So far...
Saturday, November 19, 2005
"So why don't UNSC gives the same preassure to India, Pakistan, and others concerning their nuclear power instead on Ahmadinejad's country only?"
"Well, huney, India and Pakistan didn't sign NPT. That is why."
should I know? Unfortunately, on this wrong path I chose and tangled myself with I have to know things I don't want to know.
"Well, huney, India and Pakistan didn't sign NPT. That is why."
should I know? Unfortunately, on this wrong path I chose and tangled myself with I have to know things I don't want to know.
two cheering up bengbengs for the day after
complicated, complicated, what is so complicated for you?
the complicated is when I saw my friend shouting at night on the parking lot
underneath full mooned sky, which ray didn't even shine because of the rainy afternoon
shouted out loud until I was barely able to differenciate my voice with hers.
for the multitude was very high and you had never saw her like that before, I guarantee.
for blaming her, us, women.women the ones who flirted you. and you broke broke and died and defended
and oiling her tiny eyes with redden water that couldn't come out.
For all ungentle men, fuck em all goes for them amen, and she mirrored at me.
and we both said,
"This is a one fine day, sista."
...yes, and the powerful still young Whitney Houston voice from " the Bodyguard" came streoudly, continued by Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey's "One Sweet Day" and so on...
And there were we. girls.faded moonlight.empty parking lot. a stereo. and motown classics.
the complicated is when I saw my friend shouting at night on the parking lot
underneath full mooned sky, which ray didn't even shine because of the rainy afternoon
shouted out loud until I was barely able to differenciate my voice with hers.
for the multitude was very high and you had never saw her like that before, I guarantee.
for blaming her, us, women.women the ones who flirted you. and you broke broke and died and defended
and oiling her tiny eyes with redden water that couldn't come out.
For all ungentle men, fuck em all goes for them amen, and she mirrored at me.
and we both said,
"This is a one fine day, sista."
...yes, and the powerful still young Whitney Houston voice from " the Bodyguard" came streoudly, continued by Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey's "One Sweet Day" and so on...
And there were we. girls.faded moonlight.empty parking lot. a stereo. and motown classics.
Monday, November 14, 2005
For the subordinates
The blaze of red stringy lights stroke
Stabbing, degrading
Ignoring slightly when another species interrupted
The bold stringent laser dissolved into miasma
Moving everything slightly
Making optical illusion
Flowing the border of each entity
Melting the border lines
And the silver rainbow hot fluid in each tube pouring each other
Finally they all looked the same
Somewhat rainbow paddlepop ice cream with more oily colors
A threat.
Stabbing, degrading
Ignoring slightly when another species interrupted
The bold stringent laser dissolved into miasma
Moving everything slightly
Making optical illusion
Flowing the border of each entity
Melting the border lines
And the silver rainbow hot fluid in each tube pouring each other
Finally they all looked the same
Somewhat rainbow paddlepop ice cream with more oily colors
A threat.
Burn burn
Love run run
Fortnight go twinkling stars
Slip the warmth through the fingers
Then burn
At least the black limp stays
Sprinkled towards the magnetic clouds
To shower thousand days with its vapor
Poisoning, saturating through skin pores
Craving shadows below the eyes
Disorienting.
And keep your silent decay. Let me cry.
Love run run
Fortnight go twinkling stars
Slip the warmth through the fingers
Then burn
At least the black limp stays
Sprinkled towards the magnetic clouds
To shower thousand days with its vapor
Poisoning, saturating through skin pores
Craving shadows below the eyes
Disorienting.
And keep your silent decay. Let me cry.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
I hate you, hey waterboy
For floating relaxed on the sea
For every slide of a movie you’ve seen
After a full midnight seeing projected moving picture on the white wall
Of a house near cannabis plantation
Just tell me the comparison and benefit analysis
Between floating and enjoying.
picture from www.googbix.com
Friday, November 11, 2005
Trash. We are in.
As a week full, people in Germany saw fire balls eclipting their sky. Although many people assumed that they were UFOs, NASA stated in its website that they were not. The fire balls were said to unknown group of meteors, since earth is orbiting through trashes of the galaxy.
Interesting. Trashes in bigger trashes.
As a week full, people in Germany saw fire balls eclipting their sky. Although many people assumed that they were UFOs, NASA stated in its website that they were not. The fire balls were said to unknown group of meteors, since earth is orbiting through trashes of the galaxy.
Interesting. Trashes in bigger trashes.
Parents. Parents. Conservative Parents.
My friend started smoking a month ago. She brought a pack of menthol cigarettes home. Sure, she kept it in her bag. Not long after that, when she was going to go out and bring her cigarettes, she found that the pack was no longer there.
There were only her and her parents living at that house. Her parents took it? Maybe. But, she was not confronted.
Me. I bought a S$5 paperback book of the feminist, Anais Nin, “Artist and Models”. Thanks to Zineng for the recommendation. Then, when I was about just finished the first short story, the little pink covered book with naked woman sculpture on it gone. Disappear. Mysteriously. Ya, the sexual description was inevitably detailed. Maybe it worries people around me.
But I was not confronted.
Two days ago, Astrid, my other friend, asked, “How come parents in Indonesia considered sex education as a taboo thing to be discussed at homes?”
Hmm… I was beginning to think,
“That’s normal,” I said.
There were only her and her parents living at that house. Her parents took it? Maybe. But, she was not confronted.
Me. I bought a S$5 paperback book of the feminist, Anais Nin, “Artist and Models”. Thanks to Zineng for the recommendation. Then, when I was about just finished the first short story, the little pink covered book with naked woman sculpture on it gone. Disappear. Mysteriously. Ya, the sexual description was inevitably detailed. Maybe it worries people around me.
But I was not confronted.
Two days ago, Astrid, my other friend, asked, “How come parents in Indonesia considered sex education as a taboo thing to be discussed at homes?”
Hmm… I was beginning to think,
“That’s normal,” I said.
Darth Vedder II
Look…
…in the middle of nineties, Dr. Azahari was known to start contemplating religious matters. At the same time, his wife was stroke by cancer on her throat after having their second baby. Then, his wife could no more produce sound, thus she couldn’t lecture anymore at the Universitas Teknologi Malaysia. Strongly believed that this grand soul suffering became the trigger of Azahari’s changing trait.
…Anakin Skywalker was torn down after seeing in his dream that Padme’s life is no long to be taken. Then, this triggered him to become Darth Vedder since he knew from his dream that he would suffer a lot if his newlywed wife died. After the dark hazing, he killed innocent people. Many.
How much I hate to see deeper. Since, afterwards, there will always be Byronic heroes as the result. Pity, romantic thoughts may go to the killers.
…in the middle of nineties, Dr. Azahari was known to start contemplating religious matters. At the same time, his wife was stroke by cancer on her throat after having their second baby. Then, his wife could no more produce sound, thus she couldn’t lecture anymore at the Universitas Teknologi Malaysia. Strongly believed that this grand soul suffering became the trigger of Azahari’s changing trait.
…Anakin Skywalker was torn down after seeing in his dream that Padme’s life is no long to be taken. Then, this triggered him to become Darth Vedder since he knew from his dream that he would suffer a lot if his newlywed wife died. After the dark hazing, he killed innocent people. Many.
How much I hate to see deeper. Since, afterwards, there will always be Byronic heroes as the result. Pity, romantic thoughts may go to the killers.
the Farthest Logic is Imagination
.jpg)
picture: mushalla FIB UI at sunset, by OvWhat if…
My mom hadn’t marry my father?
Or at least just’d stayed with her own faith.
Probably I would be fasting for one month and not being there in Saturday night.
Read Toni Morisson’s Love with a blue cyan big cup of cappuccino and one tiny nutella biscuit.
With my jeans soaked for the heavy rain, which made me took Rp. 70.000,00 for taxi.
And, gosh, I had to go there for a pee since I forgot to bring my room’s key. So dumb. More, I had to wait for my friends to come over.
What if…
My mom had not been that subordinate than my father?
Probably I would be heading for my grandmother’s house, far away in Central Java.
Not sacrificing my afternoon with the pervert society (again!)
With poetic realist novel in my hand and desperate jazzy sound on the stereo, which damn, I liked it a lot!
“…You must remember this, a kiss is still a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh, na na na na na na na na… as time goes by…”
(actually, there wasn’t na na na na. Just forget the lyrics.)
and he’s heading to the east, and she’s to the west, little bit southy. She just couldn’t relax, for the stretch. The stretch that pulled each centimeter of her brain tissue to wander, to connect. But, it extremely faded the chance to
to what? To see? To smell? To feel?
She could only imagine.
What if…
The sexy girl, Dinda had not been the Public Officer for Culturaholic?
I didn’t get along with Taufik, who were Dinda’s General Secretary. Thus, it was him who connected me to Dinda?
I didn’t have much chits chats with this sassy lady, Sisie?
I didn’t join a pervert society and being introduced to Abi, by Disty?
I would had been drown into this purplish red covered little novel, and a book of the history of sense.
And she will would had injected each word she read to intensify the stretch.
For they were the guys I met in serendipity, that Saturday night, which usually people had left kosts for their homes, specially near Idul Fitri.
and they loosened the stretch.
Isn’t it funny, the way you choose whose people you are connected with right now, will affect your future. In a specific, tangible way. Probably, when you’re having a relationship with someone, you don’t know that it might cause a super practical impact for your future kids.
The way you choose someone to talk to, determine an act in your life, whether you’ll be delighted or not in your sour day. (just an obsessive thought of anticipation)
anyhow, Happy Idul Fitri for all of you... All the blessing with us
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
aku punya teman.
nama bekennya ada ranum-ranumnya gitu, deh.
trus belakangnya bee-bo, hehehe... pasti tau dong. (lokal, buat sastra Inggris UI). Tapi, ini ga ada hubungannya, sih.
Point is, I wanna be ripe.
In experience, in focus in life.
I think, it is so easy to find inspiring, ripe people.
When you see the lecturers in the department,
when I see them,
I know, I stll have lots to dig in in this world.
nama bekennya ada ranum-ranumnya gitu, deh.
trus belakangnya bee-bo, hehehe... pasti tau dong. (lokal, buat sastra Inggris UI). Tapi, ini ga ada hubungannya, sih.
Point is, I wanna be ripe.
In experience, in focus in life.
I think, it is so easy to find inspiring, ripe people.
When you see the lecturers in the department,
when I see them,
I know, I stll have lots to dig in in this world.
Ov, come on, Consolate yourself!
Feeling exhausted, it is official, Midtest is not all around anymore, but
* I lost my lovely agenda, which its each page I made on my own! plus... all notes about my final essay is all there. So, please... if you found a colorful agenda with the cover "Samuel Barber's Piano Concerto" at front and "Classic meets Cuba at the back", It belongs to me.
* Applying for a visa is not as easy as I imagined, plus... the bird flu issue plus Bali bombing II, make it harder. (lucky damn all first world citizen, for your accessibleness for visa on arrival).
* The thought of what I read in Sejarah Kebudayaan Indonesia materials for midtest is just too much to endure. Names of Buddha's hand gestures, their meanings, years and years passed by Pithecanthropus erectus, meganthropus, and fellows. Despite the real questions in midtest, which appeared to be EXACTLY THE SAME AS LAST YEAR'S.
*I couldn't speak fluently on basic conversation in Spanish! Moncho must had been dying to send me again to Bahasa Spanyol Sumber. I am so not typical of student in Bahasa Spanyol Sumber Lanjutan. Well, the typical ? ya, actually, the class is only joined by two legal interested students: me and Indah. Indah did spend her last summer in Spain. So, you can tell... I'm so ashamed of myself. Hope my smiles work.
* I have to search and find corpuses: articles, interviews, anything... for my final essay, about contemporary new age religions in US. can you help? :)
* I really dying without my agenda. It's pretty lovely, so I don't doubt the possibility that someone had seen it fell out of my stupid blue leathered bag and just took it. It consists of: two unique postcards, which I covered with sticky transparent plastic, Rp. 6.000. Plus, one pack of colorful papers in spotlight green, yellow, blue, orange, and pink, Rp. 20.000,00. Plus, a white binder, Rp. 10.000 for the process. Most importantly, my schedule for the next two weeks and my period calendar!
one consolation for tonite: Toni Morisson's "Love"
consolation for weekend: my lovely brother's birthday: Mossa is turning ten. Plus, his concert at Kelapa Gading. Won't miss the show, lil' bro!
* I lost my lovely agenda, which its each page I made on my own! plus... all notes about my final essay is all there. So, please... if you found a colorful agenda with the cover "Samuel Barber's Piano Concerto" at front and "Classic meets Cuba at the back", It belongs to me.
* Applying for a visa is not as easy as I imagined, plus... the bird flu issue plus Bali bombing II, make it harder. (lucky damn all first world citizen, for your accessibleness for visa on arrival).
* The thought of what I read in Sejarah Kebudayaan Indonesia materials for midtest is just too much to endure. Names of Buddha's hand gestures, their meanings, years and years passed by Pithecanthropus erectus, meganthropus, and fellows. Despite the real questions in midtest, which appeared to be EXACTLY THE SAME AS LAST YEAR'S.
*I couldn't speak fluently on basic conversation in Spanish! Moncho must had been dying to send me again to Bahasa Spanyol Sumber. I am so not typical of student in Bahasa Spanyol Sumber Lanjutan. Well, the typical ? ya, actually, the class is only joined by two legal interested students: me and Indah. Indah did spend her last summer in Spain. So, you can tell... I'm so ashamed of myself. Hope my smiles work.
* I have to search and find corpuses: articles, interviews, anything... for my final essay, about contemporary new age religions in US. can you help? :)
* I really dying without my agenda. It's pretty lovely, so I don't doubt the possibility that someone had seen it fell out of my stupid blue leathered bag and just took it. It consists of: two unique postcards, which I covered with sticky transparent plastic, Rp. 6.000. Plus, one pack of colorful papers in spotlight green, yellow, blue, orange, and pink, Rp. 20.000,00. Plus, a white binder, Rp. 10.000 for the process. Most importantly, my schedule for the next two weeks and my period calendar!
one consolation for tonite: Toni Morisson's "Love"
consolation for weekend: my lovely brother's birthday: Mossa is turning ten. Plus, his concert at Kelapa Gading. Won't miss the show, lil' bro!
Hail to writers. To those who abundantly ornate the ordinary into an extra. Feel lucky, hey, those people whose names are written. Whose forms inspire the senses of right people. Right people, those who will documented these standard thus becomes an embroided stitch in history.
*sigh* you guys, bloggers. Damn lucky those people whose body and soul alter into phrases. Though they might look good, actually the quality is in the tellers. Not in the object.
-a comment, after seeing abundant words of joy, tears, and confusions from my fellow bloggers...err... writers-
a midnite chat
Someone came and slept over at my room, asked, “Whom is you lean on?”, I replied, “God.” Then, unsatisfied question,” Oh, come on, you must have someone whose shoulders you put on when you need. Someone stronger and can cloak your world with breezy and relaxing atmosphere!”
Then, I described this in my head. On a circle plate, there I stand. Between me and other people, there is a ravine . It is God. Full with mixed consciousness, I say, whatever gender it is has a strength to control the balance of wind, thus I can stand steadily.
Afterward, I finished the answer by putting families near to my circle plate.
“And men?”
“I can take them as a complimentary. As a part of me. (Property, is that the word?) Not something haloing my plate.”
“Ah, I’m beginning to trust you…I can picture you doing that.”
“Good then,” said me.
Ode untuk Hati yang Terpatah
Untuk teman-temanku, yang baru mencoba merajut kembali tangganya, walau tangga itu penuh duri.
Aku sangat mengerti.
Seorang pelukis menggambarkan tangga untukmu
Ia membuatnya begitu rapi
begiti tersususn, periodik, teratur, hingga kau terbiasa...
Duniamu pun bagaikan imaji
Kauagungkannya dengan bingkai, kaupajang di ruang paling terang
Bahkan kaupun masuk ke dalamnya.
Lihat,
kamu, dengan senyum bahagia, bangga menantang dunia
Karena kamu punya tangga
yang akan menjagamu dari kejatuhan
akan membisikkan alunan sejuk saat kaumengaduh
yang menginspirasikanmu untuk berbuat yang terbaik
bukan demi nilai
demi dia
Namun,
saat tangga dihapus,
kau seperti lukisan bodoh di sana
semua orang yang menggunjingkanmu
semua yang menikmati ceritamu
semua penggosip di Kansas
Semua teman menceramahimu dengan ajaran POSA , KUKSA, atau Musholla
Bahkan sang pelukis
menganggapmu
bodoh.
Pathethic!
Aku mengerti itu,
bukan salahmu terpana pada lukisanmu sendiri
Menangislah.
Jadilah saksi untuk semua penikmat
bahwa dalam dunia sureal itu,
kaulah yang paling logis.
Saat mereka ingin menarikmu kembali,
hanya peri waktu yang dapat membuat bingkai itu lebih kecil
hingga dapat berpindah tempat.
Tidak lagi mengkotakkimu.
Tapi dapat kaujinjing,
kausimpan,
kaukunci di ruang berdebu,
kaujual,
atau bahkan
kaubuang.
Aku sangat mengerti.
Seorang pelukis menggambarkan tangga untukmu
Ia membuatnya begitu rapi
begiti tersususn, periodik, teratur, hingga kau terbiasa...
Duniamu pun bagaikan imaji
Kauagungkannya dengan bingkai, kaupajang di ruang paling terang
Bahkan kaupun masuk ke dalamnya.
Lihat,
kamu, dengan senyum bahagia, bangga menantang dunia
Karena kamu punya tangga
yang akan menjagamu dari kejatuhan
akan membisikkan alunan sejuk saat kaumengaduh
yang menginspirasikanmu untuk berbuat yang terbaik
bukan demi nilai
demi dia
Namun,
saat tangga dihapus,
kau seperti lukisan bodoh di sana
semua orang yang menggunjingkanmu
semua yang menikmati ceritamu
semua penggosip di Kansas
Semua teman menceramahimu dengan ajaran POSA , KUKSA, atau Musholla
Bahkan sang pelukis
menganggapmu
bodoh.
Pathethic!
Aku mengerti itu,
bukan salahmu terpana pada lukisanmu sendiri
Menangislah.
Jadilah saksi untuk semua penikmat
bahwa dalam dunia sureal itu,
kaulah yang paling logis.
Saat mereka ingin menarikmu kembali,
hanya peri waktu yang dapat membuat bingkai itu lebih kecil
hingga dapat berpindah tempat.
Tidak lagi mengkotakkimu.
Tapi dapat kaujinjing,
kausimpan,
kaukunci di ruang berdebu,
kaujual,
atau bahkan
kaubuang.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
mental breakdown
1. No money to go to WUDC 2006
2. No efficient effort to debate, nationally, and internationally
3. No faith in my own final thesis
4. ...can think no more...
5. no sports time...bad, bad, bad!!! even no time for salsa!
see you soon, think that I really need a super suplements in handling my days. Probably, also need a haircut.
2. No efficient effort to debate, nationally, and internationally
3. No faith in my own final thesis
4. ...can think no more...
5. no sports time...bad, bad, bad!!! even no time for salsa!
see you soon, think that I really need a super suplements in handling my days. Probably, also need a haircut.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
tattoos from an angel
She was very kind. Her Christian name is even Angela. Suits perfectly. And that day, strikingly, each of her friends had a tearful problem. Afterward, she bought a strip of temporary tattoo in the bazaar. With a help of a cup of Aqua, a pack of Paseo, and a scissors or cutter, then voila!
Meci got one sexy butterfly on the side of her neck.
Billy got one on his wrist.
Andie got two butterflies. One for his right bicep, and one for his back neck.
Billy then asked for more. This one was a flower on his right bicep.
And me? I got a butterfly on my left wrist, for a tearful problem that I thought it was me who hallucinated the whole knots of signs to become an agony, which I endure until I felt blessed.
And the angel? She got one too. One beautiful butterfly on her right hand, in between the thumb and forefinger, signified that she also had a problem.
And t’was, a real perfect painful day for us to smile over.
and this is a different story, played by the different butterfly...
.…and the butterfly didn’t understand. It flied around a yellow buttercup held in a strong grasp. At first, the hand shooed it off. The wave moved the wind around. It soothed the butterfly in this dry season. Wind run smoothly through its skin. Tickling sheer optimized by the pat of the hand. The hand admired beautiful pattern, which lingering on it. Butterfly really enjoyed, and didn’t understand. Then, the hand shooed, without patting. Minimum spoil made the butterfly reacted. It didn’t go away, but went nearer to the hand, asked for more. Then, I didn’t know what happened. I just turned my head for a while, attracted to adzan maghrib that stroke. Or adzan subuh, or the church bell, I couldn’t tell the difference. Since the puzzled mind was hardly processing what my ears heard, I came back to the butterfly. It was exhaustedly lying on a garbage pile beside the soil where the dandelions grew. And I heard the butterfly, “Ah, now I understand,” while it was struggling, twisted, in between stinky heap. The carbonate produced by the waste pulverized on the air, soaked into its skin, complete with low hiss. Ruined the beauty. And the butterfly said, “Thank you, for making me understand.”
Poor butterfly, I thought.
.…and the butterfly didn’t understand. It flied around a yellow buttercup held in a strong grasp. At first, the hand shooed it off. The wave moved the wind around. It soothed the butterfly in this dry season. Wind run smoothly through its skin. Tickling sheer optimized by the pat of the hand. The hand admired beautiful pattern, which lingering on it. Butterfly really enjoyed, and didn’t understand. Then, the hand shooed, without patting. Minimum spoil made the butterfly reacted. It didn’t go away, but went nearer to the hand, asked for more. Then, I didn’t know what happened. I just turned my head for a while, attracted to adzan maghrib that stroke. Or adzan subuh, or the church bell, I couldn’t tell the difference. Since the puzzled mind was hardly processing what my ears heard, I came back to the butterfly. It was exhaustedly lying on a garbage pile beside the soil where the dandelions grew. And I heard the butterfly, “Ah, now I understand,” while it was struggling, twisted, in between stinky heap. The carbonate produced by the waste pulverized on the air, soaked into its skin, complete with low hiss. Ruined the beauty. And the butterfly said, “Thank you, for making me understand.”
Poor butterfly, I thought.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
For the Stiff
I felt rocks fulfilling my stomach. Sick and tired. Sick of om om who kept on trying to impress. Tired of frowning my face, put maximum effort to be undesirable. So I wanted to spill those out. OUT. Unfortunately, best friends were sleeping, average friends couldn’t be contacted, undefined friends were not enthusiastic, and I do not have that many friends at all.
“What?” stroke him.
“Ehmm… nothing. Just have no fellows to share my stories with,” said me in spoiled voice.
“Ya, it’s you, ya… always have no clear aim why you call someone, why you talk with someone,”he talked graphically as he used to be.
Considering the noise as his background, then I asked where was he. And he was in public place. He is so like my father when it comes to public place: public enemy. Meaning: always complaining person, even to innocent sweet little kids. Absolutely with anger voices.
“Ouhkay, Mr. Stiff… how do you expect me to act to you? As your colleague? As your subordinate in your networking world? For those positions unable me having casual chit chats. But we’re more than that, rite?”
Glossary: “We’re friends!”
And friends do unimportant shares.
Waiting for the stiff to be loosened.
“What?” stroke him.
“Ehmm… nothing. Just have no fellows to share my stories with,” said me in spoiled voice.
“Ya, it’s you, ya… always have no clear aim why you call someone, why you talk with someone,”he talked graphically as he used to be.
Considering the noise as his background, then I asked where was he. And he was in public place. He is so like my father when it comes to public place: public enemy. Meaning: always complaining person, even to innocent sweet little kids. Absolutely with anger voices.
“Ouhkay, Mr. Stiff… how do you expect me to act to you? As your colleague? As your subordinate in your networking world? For those positions unable me having casual chit chats. But we’re more than that, rite?”
Glossary: “We’re friends!”
And friends do unimportant shares.
Waiting for the stiff to be loosened.
“Every now and then she looked around for tangible evidence of his having ever been there. Where were the butterflies? The blueberries? The whistling reed? She could find nothing, for he had left nothing but his stunning absence. An absence so decorative, so ornate, it was difficult for her to understand how she had ever endured, without falling dead or being consumed, his magnificent presence.”
-Toni Morison in Sula-
for me: the massive messages have been deleted.
-Toni Morison in Sula-
for me: the massive messages have been deleted.
Dreams of the Sexies
When her lips splashed out the word T H E C L A S H or T H E C U R E, 80’s and 90’s songs, the sexiness is still there. Still the same senses you felt nine years ago when she spelled B O Y Z O N E, or C O D E R E D D U E T S W I T H A L D A. No one could really copies her smirky face tickles the celebrities but then it will be neutralized with her apologic smiles and honorable mention of the upcoming artist with their videos. Originally entertaining. For my teenager hero, I do not want to exchange the dream with the real. She is an editor in chief for a hip female teenage magazine in Jakarta now. Knowing that behind the scenes of glossy pages are usually cloudy, dark effort to shine each day with pieces of abundant accessories to cover up their flows, thus they can be accepted and called unique beauty, as United Colours of Benetton campaigns. Absorbing that what actually happens out there are women versus women to defend their own identities in the name of postmodernism.
I opt to be still in teenage dream and crown her as my sexy hero.
Just as I do not want my lecturers to act casually, I want they to keep on the high dreams of mine. They’re good up there. Once touches my senses, all will be ruined.
I opt to be still in teenage dream and crown her as my sexy hero.
Just as I do not want my lecturers to act casually, I want they to keep on the high dreams of mine. They’re good up there. Once touches my senses, all will be ruined.
A Phrase of Agony
How much do a frame takes more attention than the painting itself? It is when you as yourself, and only you, consider the real attraction is the frame, which used to be the painting, but somehow must be shifted into a frame. Straightforwardly,
She stared at standing people in front of her bleakly. Dark men in dark suits. Heavy skeletons kept them alive and faithfully brought them home to the ladies and children. Really, no glimpse of rainbows, or sparkled lights, which usually may glee her. All was a hard puzzle to be interpreted through lines and wrinkles on faces. You should contemplate rigidly until you may take the meaning of those old, exhausted faces were a struggle of life. Hard to think, when she was really in their same struggle too.
She did not do that. The staring of the big picture was just a full concentration, so she could see the line through the tip of her left eye. She couldn’t see it barely, though. But for sure, firm figure was there. The neck was higher than her softest hair on the peak of her head. You could tell the chest beating together with hers, though not in the same rhyme.
For it had decided not to take the same rhyme anymore.
For hands will not intermingled.
For the greatest power was conducting the organs, Dio.
And she understood and understands
Dio mysteriously will always right at the end.
Gloria in Excelsis Deo, they sing harkly on Christmas.
For the Dio, she shifted the main attraction into frame.
He had determined
To be the frame
Too
Stop painting all heavenly fountains of honey, sparkling, and apple that may pour and abundant her throat with sin.
The sweetest one.
She stared at standing people in front of her bleakly. Dark men in dark suits. Heavy skeletons kept them alive and faithfully brought them home to the ladies and children. Really, no glimpse of rainbows, or sparkled lights, which usually may glee her. All was a hard puzzle to be interpreted through lines and wrinkles on faces. You should contemplate rigidly until you may take the meaning of those old, exhausted faces were a struggle of life. Hard to think, when she was really in their same struggle too.
She did not do that. The staring of the big picture was just a full concentration, so she could see the line through the tip of her left eye. She couldn’t see it barely, though. But for sure, firm figure was there. The neck was higher than her softest hair on the peak of her head. You could tell the chest beating together with hers, though not in the same rhyme.
For it had decided not to take the same rhyme anymore.
For hands will not intermingled.
For the greatest power was conducting the organs, Dio.
And she understood and understands
Dio mysteriously will always right at the end.
Gloria in Excelsis Deo, they sing harkly on Christmas.
For the Dio, she shifted the main attraction into frame.
He had determined
To be the frame
Too
Stop painting all heavenly fountains of honey, sparkling, and apple that may pour and abundant her throat with sin.
The sweetest one.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
kata menyesak lensa dengan hitam putih
alun menabuh gendang dengan ritma gembira
tipu banjiri udara lewat dua katup terbuka
Minteva penuhi rasa memberi intimasi semerbak
sengat dan beku meresap, aku lebih bahagia
itu baru indera
pun ribuan imaji kutusukkan ke labirinku
aku pun tunduk ke pembuat candu
anginnya meniup luka hingga halusinasi datang
karena darah membeku dan mengering
semua, agar kau tak terlihat,
sayangku.
alun menabuh gendang dengan ritma gembira
tipu banjiri udara lewat dua katup terbuka
Minteva penuhi rasa memberi intimasi semerbak
sengat dan beku meresap, aku lebih bahagia
itu baru indera
pun ribuan imaji kutusukkan ke labirinku
aku pun tunduk ke pembuat candu
anginnya meniup luka hingga halusinasi datang
karena darah membeku dan mengering
semua, agar kau tak terlihat,
sayangku.
Monday, September 19, 2005
You can See Much on A Bus
Taking public transportation makes you not immune for several things. First, pollution, of course. Second, being near to strange people, om om specially. Third, you’re also not immune to hate speech.
I was on my way back home on Sunday. Plead for more dosage of religious sanity. Budi was busy with Go and they would go together for a family lunch, so I didn’t wanna join. On one of the most comfortable bus in Jakarta, 102 (in my opinion, pardon), there came a man. A man with a face you can’t hate, fatherly figure. Thus, when you gaze at him, the depiction of children will emerge on his face. And he told us, the passenger: “Let us fight immorality. Immoralities like prostitution, gambling, et cetera. Those which was popularized by Jewish and Christian people. Now, let us do something, not just silent our actions. Where did all Christian people go when FPI was busy closing the pubs and prostitution? Christian people must also help the Moslem. Do not only quiet! Act! Or maybe they just want to let us act and be happy, laugh out loud when the Moslems died?...and he spoke out few verses from Quran.
I guess, God did not need my fortification. It was me, who needed the power
To stay calm
And still felt blissful that I was going to comfort myself at his/her/or whatever gender it is’s home
N.B: The next day afterward, I was on an ojek, took my way to the university when I saw a BIG baliho on the street saying, "Do not build any church here! If there is a buliding, just prepare for the risk! -Young Moslem Society-"
and it was near. So near to my house.
. .... .....
The diner is nearly closed for it was only the girl and a couple busy with their so called dinner. The girl sat in the seat near to the glass transparent window with dripped water of rain. The toaster was there paralleled a plate with tall neck where on top of it remained few slices of home-made pie. Old man was busy behind the desk counting how much he got for today. The billboard bulbs lost their ray sometimes, that the glowing multiplied colors on wet asphalt appeared on and out, delighted then sublimous grey. It was powerful since the moon was still hiding behind grayish clouds, which just had continued the sea work. Old recorder played Harry James’ It’s Been A Long Time, Dick Haymes’ It Might As Well Be Spring, Blue Moon, even from the Grease soundtrack, blues in the night. This is the setting I wanna go every time I need to cry out loud. Not by disappearing from earth. Guess this situation has a high quality to authority you exanimate yourself.
picture taken from www.film.org
Umeboshi
Narumi was an ordinary girl. Kind, polite, and unfussy. When the others grabbed salem and soft green polo shirts, she just stood in front of the display. The other four were hopping from Zara, Body Shop, Body & Soul, and a lil bit Kinokuniya. And Narumi left herself behind with native girls who also find a shop hop is too happening for them. As someone who had to use body language every time I connected with them, of course I left myself behind too. Tried to make a conversation with Narumi, explaining the name of this mall is Pondok Indah Mall 2 and we were going to Pondok Indah Mall 1… in half an hour gesture talking, which eventually she could understand the meaning by saying 1 is old and 2 is new. Being nice to each other, we gave our contact numbers and tried to gesture other meanings. Later on, Narumi handed me a little cute transparent wrapping with kanji and cartoon on it. What was inside? Umeboshi.
Umeboshi, a brownish round cake, seems like a big ginger candy with jellish texture. It has a solid core on its center, darker than the other side. The umeboshi was a lil bit wet. And I bite a bit. Hard corer than my mom’s jamu kencur. Muscles on my chins wrinkled automatically, and my eyes narrowed.
“Suki?”
“humm..ok. Nice,”said me, smirked, to the nice Narumi.
Tell me other tips to respect others’ traditional food rather than eat it wholly and say that it is ok. While wrinkled and smirked, Go came after me and said, “Ovi san… you should eat it fully at once.”
Thanks for the tips, Go.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Friday, September 09, 2005
.....
too sweet, just like brown sugar or jasmine tea wrapped in delightful, firm, wooden craved box. Gratia gusti. Displaying tender view; purplish blossomed flowers on the valley, equaling the face to face touch and soft vocals. Understanding eyes aware of what really happens. Pitiful. Chained before glass ceiling. False consciusness accepted right. Framing the whole that cannot be bursted out.
Untouchable
picture taken from www.wrightslaw.com
Thursday, September 08, 2005
I was at the headquarter of the imbecile and pervert but seem and look smart people.
No one interested to come this time.
So I amused myself with this pickled comments of newbees from my beloved friends on scattered papers:
“Gw gak nyuruh dia speech. Maap, ge nggak dikasitau. Gw emang ceroboh…”
(huahahahaha…yeah, it’s not a speech society, dear, but at least… J )
“She likes to speak, definitely. She has a thee-bathing basic and willing to develop it…But she is like an AGJ girl. I don’t know whether or not she will fit in E*S social life, we’ll see…”
(uh…oh… so, she’s normal and mainstream? Let’s just drown her in…hwehehehe…)
“This poor guy doesn’t even understand the questions. He needs me to translate all the questions and answers. He seems to join E*S to meet new girls.”
(Hey, each of us has our own purpose in life.)
“He has the Australian accent. But, he sure is a show off. Dia pamer bgt. To be honest, he was like gurggling rather than giving a speech.”
(Ah, another inter-male jealousy.)
“Shutter a bit, minimum eye contact. Come to think of it, maybe it’s my fault; right after he said he’s going to speak about orientation program at my faculty, I excitedly mentioned I’m in the disciplinary committee for my faculty orientation, so probably his speech was a little under pressure. Sorry…”
(another factor is, perhaps, your beauty myth, moonflower girl! :) )
funny, ya?
No one interested to come this time.
So I amused myself with this pickled comments of newbees from my beloved friends on scattered papers:
“Gw gak nyuruh dia speech. Maap, ge nggak dikasitau. Gw emang ceroboh…”
(huahahahaha…yeah, it’s not a speech society, dear, but at least… J )
“She likes to speak, definitely. She has a thee-bathing basic and willing to develop it…But she is like an AGJ girl. I don’t know whether or not she will fit in E*S social life, we’ll see…”
(uh…oh… so, she’s normal and mainstream? Let’s just drown her in…hwehehehe…)
“This poor guy doesn’t even understand the questions. He needs me to translate all the questions and answers. He seems to join E*S to meet new girls.”
(Hey, each of us has our own purpose in life.)
“He has the Australian accent. But, he sure is a show off. Dia pamer bgt. To be honest, he was like gurggling rather than giving a speech.”
(Ah, another inter-male jealousy.)
“Shutter a bit, minimum eye contact. Come to think of it, maybe it’s my fault; right after he said he’s going to speak about orientation program at my faculty, I excitedly mentioned I’m in the disciplinary committee for my faculty orientation, so probably his speech was a little under pressure. Sorry…”
(another factor is, perhaps, your beauty myth, moonflower girl! :) )
funny, ya?
spare a thought of me
Hey…
Did not mean to peek-a-boo
Wednesday afternoon after a till dawn girl night talk,
Intended to be polite and seem doing some responsibility.
Mr. President said the interview started from 09.00 a.m. So I came…
At 09.30, of course. Procrastinator am I.
Red dusky carpet with doff orange wall.
Empty.
10.00…
really wanted to do some English, but times like this…who’ll come all the way to this wrecked building. Remote, I say.
No interviewee!!!
humm humm
Okay, Ov, let’s enjoy something.
Yummy…it fells like finding a pearl going through bubbleful straw with milk and blended ice.
“Things I can think of in 30 minutes starting from…
clothes-pants-feet-nail polish-beauty salon-girls-boys-patriarchy-feminism-ovie-mapres-doni-dictactor-hitler-WW II-chaos-poverty-…”
Rewind please…
Feminism-ovie…
Ups
Ovie…
It’s me. *happy*
I wonder, how much more I can find myself exist in others’ mind. This way, I read the artifact by myself. Wondering how much hasn’t been read yet.
It is pleasing, the thought of me.
P.S: you know who you are, writer. Peace yo! J Luv ya!
picture from psychcentral.com
Monday, September 05, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
A pianist, A singer, and Blackcurrant TeaFelt dizzy in my head and ailing throat. Makes you pull your thin vein till people say, “How sexy your voice is” while the blood is actually rushing through the narrow tunnel and push the skin, that it is sprayed and spread warmth, in my neck, forehead, and chins.
Longing for my mum’s hot ginger drink.
Couldn’t get it.
Checking phonebook of list of people I think would care for me find some amusement. So this talk-active guy and used-to-be-handsome-but-now-really-in-to-picking-his-own-face was available.
The journey was like a heavenly agony.
Thick smoke of old wrecked bus, which has never banned by the City Council. Harsh voice asking each one on the road to come in, into the ‘Ghost Ship’.
And there was I. With my flowery dress and broken white pointed shoes. Sitting like enjoying being there in the very back of the bus, which I didn’t care. I felt normal, if someone accompanied me. Is it funny how you won’t be awkward when you were with someone? My friend said the word is Insecure. Point is, I asked him to make me feel secure wearing a dress amongst abang-abang in the bus. Otherwise, I’d pick taxi, which is overmhelmingly expensive.
And I enjoyed to talk calm, heard his same old stories about his mad sister, over and over.
Enjoying my warm skin, let touched by polluted wind that sprang in from the bare ‘door’.
Enjoying the heavy eyes which sometimes will do connection with the throat and ask it to do little coughs.
Made me slow down, (seemed) wiser, do not need protection, but it is okay if you come, hug, and warm me.
Then, the next slides are just like beautiful colors of laser shot between creamy sofas with big cushions, glazing white tea pots and cups, and dark hard woody table.
The singer with almost likely Happy Clinic scent, clean jeans, long sleeve shirt, leather shoes, brown sling bag just like mine, and the girl.
The pianist, with always complaining stories, streamy chords, more beautiful face than mine (since it was steamed), cream bathed hair, and the other pianist.
Warm blackcurrant, chunky cheese and chocolate, talks of documentaries.
And old people with new entries, touches and sanities for me.
Snug. Cozy. Inspiring. Broadens.
But it is okay if you come, squeeze, and warm.
Picture by Ov
Friday, August 26, 2005
sign
Then the day came…
Not one, but days that I saw the initials everywhere
On the plates of cars
jericha predominant
okay, bizarrely, I said they have to struggle
though I’ve fulfilled and satisfied
with other’s emergent mind
other’s magnetic corporeal desire
other’s fame
but the day came…
that, remain, To Be Found Soul’s Body is the most welcome to come
and the un-callous wanna strive for whiteness again
enchanting, once more
but the day hasn’t come
that I only want to be enthralled by some
since I like all
Not one, but days that I saw the initials everywhere
On the plates of cars
jericha predominant
okay, bizarrely, I said they have to struggle
though I’ve fulfilled and satisfied
with other’s emergent mind
other’s magnetic corporeal desire
other’s fame
but the day came…
that, remain, To Be Found Soul’s Body is the most welcome to come
and the un-callous wanna strive for whiteness again
enchanting, once more
but the day hasn’t come
that I only want to be enthralled by some
since I like all
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Denial, Denial
“…All of those two magazines are still stucked in women domestic stereotype, as can be seen by many articles are mainly about kitchen, recipe, and households…(and one of them is Femina).”-from one of my past writings-
No nipples, no cleavage, no cigarette, no torso. Yes, I’m an interner in a company that does not allow these appealing stuffs appear and become toxic for young girls out there. One day I showed a picture of this young man, member of an instant singer maker reality show originated from South America. No good torso, actually, but still, it’s censored! Wow, yeah, I get it, he’s a member of the big three now, many will dream over him. And girls are not allowed to. It’s too gross and misbehaved.
The magazine is not the problem. The question should be directed to me. What am I doin there? Keep this question. Maybe I’ll answer it. If I have one, though.
No nipples, no cleavage, no cigarette, no torso. Yes, I’m an interner in a company that does not allow these appealing stuffs appear and become toxic for young girls out there. One day I showed a picture of this young man, member of an instant singer maker reality show originated from South America. No good torso, actually, but still, it’s censored! Wow, yeah, I get it, he’s a member of the big three now, many will dream over him. And girls are not allowed to. It’s too gross and misbehaved.
The magazine is not the problem. The question should be directed to me. What am I doin there? Keep this question. Maybe I’ll answer it. If I have one, though.
Nggak Enak is Uneasy
Monday. Heavy traffic!
But still, woke up at eight, grabbed some toasts with chocolate jam, and got a shower.
Pretty quick. Only took half an hour. So, I went off at 8.30.
Waiting for Bus number 52, Bekasi-Tanah Abang, lewat Komdak, Thamrin.
So I waited.
…though some busses numbered 05 passed by…
I could have been gotten in. But, ah, they’re too crowded.
So I waited
…convined by the less crowded space I’ll get, the pretty cozy seat, and air con…
I could wait, like forever, I thought.
Then a woman dressed in light yellow suit came near.
“Lama ya, Mbak. Nunggu nomor berapa?”, then I told her, number 52.
After one hour had passed…
05 passed in front of me. Slow in pace. Like teasing. No crowd, no people stood, many empty seats.
Hmm…could have gotten in. I could continue my journey with bus number 66 after get out from number 05.
But I did not jump into that white bus. Simply because I felt nggak enak to this young lady, si emba-emba, who started conversations with me.
Uh!
Finally, I got there, Jl. Rasuna Said, at 11.30, by 05 that passed by afterward, stood all the way, took 66. Precisely the same thing I could have done one or two hours before.
Once I stepped into the room, everyone had gone to meetings.
And I felt
unguilty.
But still, woke up at eight, grabbed some toasts with chocolate jam, and got a shower.
Pretty quick. Only took half an hour. So, I went off at 8.30.
Waiting for Bus number 52, Bekasi-Tanah Abang, lewat Komdak, Thamrin.
So I waited.
…though some busses numbered 05 passed by…
I could have been gotten in. But, ah, they’re too crowded.
So I waited
…convined by the less crowded space I’ll get, the pretty cozy seat, and air con…
I could wait, like forever, I thought.
Then a woman dressed in light yellow suit came near.
“Lama ya, Mbak. Nunggu nomor berapa?”, then I told her, number 52.
After one hour had passed…
05 passed in front of me. Slow in pace. Like teasing. No crowd, no people stood, many empty seats.
Hmm…could have gotten in. I could continue my journey with bus number 66 after get out from number 05.
But I did not jump into that white bus. Simply because I felt nggak enak to this young lady, si emba-emba, who started conversations with me.
Uh!
Finally, I got there, Jl. Rasuna Said, at 11.30, by 05 that passed by afterward, stood all the way, took 66. Precisely the same thing I could have done one or two hours before.
Once I stepped into the room, everyone had gone to meetings.
And I felt
unguilty.
An Answer in Few Concepts
“What’s his religion, Vi?” asked my girlfriend.
“Does it matter?” I answered.
If everyone believes and blubbings in big media that all religions are the same, in the measure of each good teachings, then I do not believe that inter religion marriage is unpermissable.
1. One day, live more than one Gods who make and manage this whole world. They have their own followers. Then some of their follwers just get married and live happily, although they have to strain for many difficulties on earth. The Gods smile happily out there, since they are good Gods. They love each other, they are friends, and want to make this universe goes better with the system they created. Thus, inter-religion marriage will not harm them.
2. But, uh, oh, how bout if the Gods were so exclusive? They curse the followers who make family with the followers of other Gods. It makes them sad, they do not want to be the minority, they want to be the only great God ever. Then, if this really happens, it is us who should not follow these selfish Gods.
3. The whole world and universe is created to reach its own aim. Thus, the score of morality will be integrated within the system. This way, humblily accept, I believe that our values in this world are the same with what The Great Power expects. He/She/whatever gender it is won’t ruin the very own system, rite? Then, one bad thing hurt when people do inter religion marriage: ego. Does not matter much. Other big and necessary values are not harmed.
4. Inter religion marriage is unpermissable since two religions can not unite. How cruel. One of the unrelenting deed is interprets “the bright cannot collide with the dark”, plants it deep down your heart, share it with your brotherhood of the same religion just to stake it even more deeper, but still campaigning: Peace On Earth.
P.S: I’ve already set my thought in the humblest and most positive thinking that there is God. The nice one, I mean.
“What’s his religion, Vi?” asked my girlfriend.
“Does it matter?” I answered.
If everyone believes and blubbings in big media that all religions are the same, in the measure of each good teachings, then I do not believe that inter religion marriage is unpermissable.
1. One day, live more than one Gods who make and manage this whole world. They have their own followers. Then some of their follwers just get married and live happily, although they have to strain for many difficulties on earth. The Gods smile happily out there, since they are good Gods. They love each other, they are friends, and want to make this universe goes better with the system they created. Thus, inter-religion marriage will not harm them.
2. But, uh, oh, how bout if the Gods were so exclusive? They curse the followers who make family with the followers of other Gods. It makes them sad, they do not want to be the minority, they want to be the only great God ever. Then, if this really happens, it is us who should not follow these selfish Gods.
3. The whole world and universe is created to reach its own aim. Thus, the score of morality will be integrated within the system. This way, humblily accept, I believe that our values in this world are the same with what The Great Power expects. He/She/whatever gender it is won’t ruin the very own system, rite? Then, one bad thing hurt when people do inter religion marriage: ego. Does not matter much. Other big and necessary values are not harmed.
4. Inter religion marriage is unpermissable since two religions can not unite. How cruel. One of the unrelenting deed is interprets “the bright cannot collide with the dark”, plants it deep down your heart, share it with your brotherhood of the same religion just to stake it even more deeper, but still campaigning: Peace On Earth.
P.S: I’ve already set my thought in the humblest and most positive thinking that there is God. The nice one, I mean.
Welcome, Deeper See-er!
I almost agree that they do not worth admiration, even gratitude, that I swithched the channel everytime they show up. The clothes are in too vivid colors. The make-ups…uh. All like plastics.
Then the day came. I had to interview them! Yaahhh…new kid in the office, get the least one. Then, I know. This boy from Makasar, is actually exouduced from Mollucas island. He even did not want to continue his opportunity in this competition. Why? Since the thought of his family keeps on hangin in, he said. His father is a stone lifter, who only earns Rp.20.000,00 a day. This amount must feed the whole family, ten children and one wife. When the other contestants can change their shoes every time they perform, he can’t. Just one old pair of shoes. Last week he got the new one, anyhow. Given by his father who had gotten it from someone else.
Not to mention the others. The boy with grotesque hair, whose my lil brother loves a lot!!, the smiling-a-lot boy with thick javanese accent, and this little cute woman with pinkish pointed shoes everday.
They’ve got their way. It’s the hardwork that counts.
After spending two days in a week with them, I turned the channel that Sunday night just to see these guys.
Then, I swithced it off…
It’s boring still on the surface!!!
That is why, once you see something deeper, you will consider every color that comes to you. Afterwards, each color has their judgement in your head, and you’ll become really selfless. Your mind streches. It is tiring, yet broadens.
Then the day came. I had to interview them! Yaahhh…new kid in the office, get the least one. Then, I know. This boy from Makasar, is actually exouduced from Mollucas island. He even did not want to continue his opportunity in this competition. Why? Since the thought of his family keeps on hangin in, he said. His father is a stone lifter, who only earns Rp.20.000,00 a day. This amount must feed the whole family, ten children and one wife. When the other contestants can change their shoes every time they perform, he can’t. Just one old pair of shoes. Last week he got the new one, anyhow. Given by his father who had gotten it from someone else.
Not to mention the others. The boy with grotesque hair, whose my lil brother loves a lot!!, the smiling-a-lot boy with thick javanese accent, and this little cute woman with pinkish pointed shoes everday.
They’ve got their way. It’s the hardwork that counts.
After spending two days in a week with them, I turned the channel that Sunday night just to see these guys.
Then, I swithced it off…
It’s boring still on the surface!!!
That is why, once you see something deeper, you will consider every color that comes to you. Afterwards, each color has their judgement in your head, and you’ll become really selfless. Your mind streches. It is tiring, yet broadens.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)