A Weird Interview

You need the money. But you pray pray, please, don’t call me up for the interview in that lifestyle magazine (for mum and baby). On a sunny day in Monday, after canceling my Spanish class. I sold myself to a big magazine corporation in the city, the biggest rival of the one I attended as an intern.

As usual, girls with matching necklaces and fancy skirts. Ethnic, chic, rhythmic, you name it. Oh…uu…they allow the employee to wear jeans. Cool. Liberal. And the interviewer was just a lovely motherly figure, with light peach lipstick on her fair skin. Matching her peach wardrobe and orange necklace balls.

(an informal interview)

Interviewer: “Your CV is astonishing”

Interviewee: “Thanks”

Interviewer: “But, I guess you don’t fit with this magazine. I’m afraid it’ll bore you. You know, interviewing mothers, the hospital care people, breast feeding nutrition, and stuff. While you’re a young, fancy woman.”

Interviewee: “Well, I guess I can learn new things from that. Meet new people, you know, say… I will be a mother….someday…(flinching her eyes, shaky voice, sell sell yourself)”

Interviewer: “I really like you, though. I will recommend you to the lifestyle magazine for teenagers. You can mingle perfectly with the people there, I see.”

Interviewee: *oh, she just doesn’t know. The previous teenage magazine editor said that I’m too serious for their field* “Ohkay, I’d be delighted.”

And the interviewer handed the interviewee her magazine, how to keep your house well. (order it into a name of a magazine). How ironic.

Mark Ruffallo, you can do better than assisting Jennifer Anniston in Rumor Has It. Such stringy, cheap, sinetronish movie.

Orang-orang yang sering berpikir

Orang-orang yang sering berpikir
adalah mereka yang paling sering menangis dalam hati
melayang di atas batas gelap perkira
jejaki ratusan kata, dan mengata
tak ada
sang pencipta di mana
karena bagi mereka adalah indera yang punya nyana
bukan rasa, kira, bukan hati
menyentuh dunia, tak cukup dengan hati
mereka menangis, menyentuh gelap jagat
di mana, mana tak ada siapa siapa
dipincingi dari bawah dari mereka yang menikmati sinar
sinar satu arah dari matahari
yang dikira abadi
dan aku yakin, Pramoedya Ananta pasti sering menangis.
dulu.

7 Mei 2006, few days after the departure

May is when the sun would string, makes the mikroleters stare in envy to those in the air-conned box. May this year is when the sun greys, pouring down velvetish ash from Merapi. Occasional rains that wash away thick black bulk from old metrominis, which makes me yell, eat your own dirt, polluters!
By the way, I hate May. In spite of the Tauruses, May puts hearts on the brink of savoir good byes, eternally, unpredictably. Different with December, when you part, partly, and be excited. Manner yourself better, suffocate your body with juices, face with blushes. Since you'll meet again in the midst of january. On May, you're not sure, whether he will walk on La Ramblas on July, hike on Andalucia silent mountains, or on the antique Galicia, Oviedo where Fernando Alonso was born.
and whether I will be where.

me and anas.anas and me.

We have a strange relationship. an undefinable friendship. we're opposites, a drastic ones. we will yell at each other (softly, in manner, the keep-on-beautiful-although-bitchy-manner) about anything. Anas believes in my superstition blabs, I believe in her strategies. Although I hate her to have the strategy and she doesn't like my superstition. The similarity is only that nobody will be able to stay with us for a long time *hear hear! the readers say*. We're such assholes. and we are keep on meeting each other since 15 years ago.


By the way, happy birthday, honey, Ananstasia Hariztin, April 23rd 2005 turned 22.

David Gale said, “At one point of our life, we let the desire to take control upon our reality. Thus, you keep your dream alive. And it is called obsession.”

I have been trying real hard to be obsessed. In fact, I was obsessed about achievements, traveling, friends, books, my ass, men, sex, and writings. Now, I am unthreading the singular nervous system in my head. Do all of the obsessions connected to my heart? I am afraid only the latest one does.

I am enjoying…


Singaporean The Melting of the Ice Cream Girl, The Teenage Textbook
How sweet it is of Adrian Tan:
“For Angel, who although having beauty, charm, and intelligence, still insists on choosing me as her boyfriend. I’m yours for life,” he wrote.

Enjoying being a chief of a penniless provincial selection for the high schoolers
Really like their spirited eyes to be noticed

Enjoying Flori’s Duck King treat with dim sums.
Chunky, less oil food is always good.

Enjoying making friends with my old friend with her new boyfriend and boring friends of the boyfriend, since I love her the most.

Enjoying my new purplish candylike necklace, which I bought with a bad bargain in terminal Blok M at seven o’clock in the morning

Enjoying the nutrition at my home, bunch of oranges, pears, and healthy, non-sugared guava juice

After I enjoyed cleansweep debates against teams who are said to be “good”
And, of course, I am enjoying
The trophy J

For someone who is apparently enjoying my creation,
DON’T

Don’t do the imminent
I beg you not touching my peeled egg neck
I do not need your intellect carcass fixing my schedule
Enough of your bulb-lighting inspiration
Touch me softly on the edge of my mind’s eye
I need you to be softly colored,
Like David Mitchell’s Number Nine Dream cover,
Light
Flying
Smokey
Tingle
pastel
Unseen
I have fun with my Hanson’s Underneath,
My lovely agenda, and Shakira’s songs inside my head
Let me do the creation around me
With you inside it
I’ll touch
I plot he story
Where we’re going to go
Where I wanna kiss

You don’t need to do anything
And, like Sergio Mendez said,
Baby, don’t fall in love with me.
Please, baby,
Don’t.

I am getting old
When Quadrophilia was turned on
And Jim took a bath with his balls in between the soapy hot water, I heard the juniors, the dj junior, the commercial star junior, and the others shouting.
When the shoot was about Jim and his room with naked twiggy women in between his emo heroes, the juniors were woo-ing.
I am getting old in the sense of I am not shy no longer in frenzying my idols.
Instead of covering it with shy smiles and insensible jokes, I didn’t do it at all.
I am afraid of pulsivate my firstly-captured- senses
I am not tired, I just think that I have known those things, I’ve had the age
When my brain remains, yet, I’ve not done all I’ve known

F.C.U.K

find the blood in my head
and shed it
cease the satan so it can work
and wreck
use the remained gold
and suck it
keep me empty
do me as you want
until i'm back again

La playa. Barcelonetta.
water that separates the north and the south.

Photo by Ov

Saing tak Perlu

Kami akan bertengkar
tentang siapa paling apa
Kudijatuhi air terjun
segar
tapi sihir niagra
mengharuskan mata memeta kristal titik air
Ia dengan tetesan darah hitam
menggelembungi nadi
menyerta hari tiada henti
kami akan bertengkar
tentang siapa paling apa
tapi
kulontar akan asa menenangkan
dia semata agar aku tahu
dia paling apa

Assuredness and Calmness

Four women with the same interest
Sat on a box, heading north and south
Their man sat heading to the north
one foot in front of
Women with the similar direction as the man were calm.
The others emitted a fully highly streoed volume
The one, thogh stringy, felt secure and did not need to work hard now
since assuredly they will ride together on Australian winter
Still, some seconds
glimpsed over
just to check him
who sat with the next them

and it wasn't just one pair
it's
four women with the same interest

Men and Loneliness

Men (meaning: guys) like loneliness a lot
Men like hymns
They like silent enhancing ambiance
Men like the emptiness of the world
Over Consciously
Salience so they can contemplate deeply
and realize
nothing awaits them before eyes
because women will always agree
Kept on the black box happily
with their neck bends and ogles the dust and keep on smiling
while he can proceed
enjoying the loneliness
into the deep night
and not even cry

attended a talkshow, with Rp.5.000,00 entrance, which was so expensive for FIB seminars, and got these words from Rudy Soedjarwo:


"When you feel critics are everywhere and they're getting harder, it means you're on top. You need to be on the toppest position to be criticized heartily."

digest, people. Digest.

My recent blabs in "about me" in Friendster:

About Me:mahasiswa yang sedang bekutat mencari korpus spiritualitas di New York demi skripsi yang bab satu aja belum kelar, di saat teman-temannya sudah yakin dengan kajian jazz, homosexuality, drama anti feminis, dan cinta-nya Toni Morisson.

Recently tune in to Janji Joni soundtrack (all of them) and Franz Ferdinandas a desperate relieving self-method to find a satisffying enough replacement for SUEDE. ah... and enjoy seeing t.A.T.u new videos. They're goddamn hot, don't you think?Slandering over Che Guevarra posters sold on Kober till Barri Gothic for its so called patriarchal image. Found the truth by watching Motorcycle Diaries.

Why oh Why...they should put a man with cigarette, killer hat, wild mid length hair, and unshaved face EVERYWHERE. while he also had the times when he seems so delicate, subtle, yet robust in heart.no need to be wild looking guys to prove that you're a guy.

humm
just a thought
no serious consideration taken,
please :)

January 20th 2006
Jakarta, my room.

I had to think of what should I wear for this afternoon, for no jeans left in the drawer. All favorites still well-packed in my black suitcase. Decided to wear the purple skirt. It had embroideries of darker purple in flower form, lining from the tip vertically towards the middle of it. And as my skirt wove into the taxi that brought me home and as I slipped off my 7 hours worn black top and changed it into a white loose t-shirt, thought bout things happpend today, with Bella Pollen's Hunting Unicorns by my side. More heartily, all those jazzy from Cosmopolitan FM on this Friday night. I pressed my abstract heart and push my eyelids hardily towards my eyes. Significantly trying to erect some eyedrop. And when the songs even cut my skin and walked steadily with my blood rhymes, I could not even cry.

come on, cry!

What for?

You have no one whose lips can be pressed with your emotion

So?

You must have to be sad

But I'm not

But you want to be sad

Yes. I've been trying. But I can't

Call for some help. You can't cry.

January 14th 2006
on a train from Koln to Hannover


Portrait of STOP and other German novels realized. Full moon swam in between black bluish monochromic sky, with whithe transparent cutton of scrapped clouds. Grey bricked houses, mounted roofs under leafless trees, which branches you can see them dry and brown. Meranggas. Tought accompanied by blond little girl with a pony tail, walkman and bunch of plastics withe chocolate candies and marshmellow in it. I even could smell it from afar, a yuppielike. You know, those strawberry creamed and sugared candies. Missed my lil bro, hadn't bought a plane miniature for him. I considered 10 eiros for an aerlingus miniature was too expensive.

Remembered the guys in the Guest Home. Paul and Matthew, and one Irish exceptional guy, as the house's attendant. Too bad that I'm not an open person for new guys. Seiing couples kissed in Catalunya or Passeig de Gracia station, or good bye hugs in Koln Bonn airport. Felt warm, lustless.

I don't remember the last time I saw hunger for lust looks from people on Jakarta or Depok streets. Probably, if my country just let people release their anthusiasm of love and UI didn't detent couples who kiss un its romantic alleys, Jakarta will be safer from rape. Porns. You name it. Less love. More lust.

In here, your love will just be more restricted. Interracial marriage draft. and you know the other one, the draft which clearly states that woman shouldn't show their hips, etc off.

Less love. More lust. Unsafe. Risih.

everybody, check "The Family Guy" series out! nice recommendation for Pengkabud class or anything to do with English (specially American) literature.

Aerlingus with a technician clearing snowbits on the plane's wings. Feeling anxious of my hadn't been done sociolinguistic essay, I unfolded all the paper in front of me. The Guardian, "Land of the Freeze", I quoted:

Little did we know. we'd already had the tastiest of the reindeer experiences. We stopped, one time, just to exchange disbelief at how amazingly, unexpectedly, bloody cold it was. "Ach, at least you can protect yourself against the cold," said the gnaried one. "How do you protect yourself against the heat?"

correct.

Thought back again, I was carrying two heavy bags, 20 kilos in total i persume on my shoulders. And weavering around Schipol to find gate D12, which all of us self depictly said that it was really near. So, I left the trolleys behind. Dump.
And running. and carrying. and my (physical) heart beating, and it was almost torn apart. thank God, (physical) heart won't be torn apart easily just because the rushing blood.
I had felt the same tension before (physically). In running tests on elementary school, Merpati Putih exercises, climbing high crossing bridges in Jakarta, high impact aerobics...
But the feelings were different. Surrounded with icy atmosphere, I felt I can do it more. no sweats, even no heat. Come to think of it, perhaps, that's just one of the reasons why Indonesian soccer players are not so
you know what i mean.

it's the weather.