For now, I wouldn't mind a SUEDE concert, Dent May gig, few feel good movies, or Carl Sagan's Contact

George Kimble in "Geography in the Middle Ages" wrote "The first medieval maps included only the rectilinear marking out of itineraries (performative indications chiefly concerning pilgrimages), along with the stops one was to make (cities which one was to pass through, spend the night in, pray, etc.) and distances calculated in hours or in days, that is, in terms of the time it would take to cover them on foot." Since we will not do what we are told, between the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries, the map became more autonomous. There is less Twedledee and Twedledum that gives you options how to operate from one place to another, they "simply" describes the places or dots. You are free to connect the dots HOWever you'd like.

But see, we do not like being free, or to ameliorate it, we turn the narration of spatial disposition to "informed choice". That's how TripAdvisor and Lonely Planet win. They separate narration of making space from the map and give you stories of how to appropriate space, JUST IN CASE you need it. 

More on maps: Thongchai Winichakul's "Siam Mapped: A History of the Goe-Body of a Nation", Collin Marshall's podcast: A conversation on ruins, maps, and the struggle for the future form of the city with Geoff Nicholson, author of "The Los Art of Walking", "Bleeding London", "Walking in Ruins", and "The City Under the Skin", and Michel De Certau's "The Practice of Everyday Life".

Me and You (Me)

I interpret this song as I talking to I when I'm down

On the Table

One of my favorite photo series in instagram is photos of food taken with flat angle, parallel to the table, which requires the photographer to stand up, on the floor. Or on a chair, if that should be the case. Asians, of course, used to be mocked for taking quotidian objects, ephemeral arrangement of food that is going to our stomach, and will be excreted anyway. But of course, like selfies, its value increased thanks to de Generes. And people may forget that van Gogh painted fruits. 

Well, if you also like to see photos of food from flat angle, Dinah Fried's new book Fictitious Dishes will elevate this pleasure by tingling your familiarity with classic literature. This is a cute and creative project that makes you think about the significance of food and drink description in toning a novel. 

For example, i just finished Kate Atkinson's "Life After Life". It is opened with German bakery scrumptiousness at almost the end of WWI, then it goes back to the home baked goods in an English countryside, scones with fresh cream, before the war. The next chapters contrast it with impoverished life in London during the war when Ursula (the protagonist) only had alcohol from her auntie's rustic, abandoned wine storage.

Anyone remembers Pramoedya's Minke who gets a package of nasi goreng and hot egg on a train, while he's "kidnapped" to be brought back to his father? Also, how the math genius Ms. Salander doesn't have time to eat but still Stig Larsson gives description of what she eats although it's almost nothing. Alright, but maybe the best description is live in Tarantiono's Inglourious Basterds, when Hans Landa chews that apfelstrudel. "Wait for the cream," he said patiently before eating it. 

Some of my favs:

On the side note, the last meals project is also a project to make food graphic by describing some of the famous death row inmates' last meal (pretty self-explanatory). What does last meals do? Is it to make death sentence more human or to see the inmates as humans? Does the last meal mediate our fear that the decision is irreversible thus making the inmate humans may remind us to carry the sentence humanely? Or the other way around, does giving them humane connection (good food, usually not provided daily in prison) makes us the representatives of better humans (the victims)? 

Let's save ourselves. Jump to the Mendl's cart! - Z to A

Dosen: Jadi, kamu liat itu ya film dokumenter yang namanya Star Wars
Saya:   Oke, Pak

*Pulang dan mencari film Star Wars di Youtube. Kok gak ada.
Ternyata saya salah mendengar. Judulnya Style Wars, sis.

Thirtieth

“Is this house haunted or is it just me?” asked my dear friend after seeing her socks lying down neatly on the carpet beside the bed. She did not remember taking it out last night. Looking at the chipped wall, elaborate carvings, stern wooden cupboards, this building did look old. In the name of Sherlock’s deduction, we just assumed the OCD friend took out her socks and put it nicely last night. I put out the red rosary from my mom, though. Putting in on the bed frame. 

I always opened the window few inches at night so in the morning the sunray would wake me up. However, today grey cloud hung in the horizon, raindrops ticked the window glass. Cole Porter’s Let’s Fall in Love from Midnight in Paris played from another friend’s laptop. He’s now lying down on the carpet waiting for us to rise. I liked Alanis Morissette's rendition in De-Lovely better.

We woke up pretty early this morning. For breakfast, we fixed English muffins with salmon, cream cheese, spinach, and poached eggs. The second course was banana pancake with topping choices of honey, baileys cream, vanilla cream, and Ben and Jerry’s chocolate fudge leftover. In the thirtieth of December morning, we talked about EndNote application, essays, scholarship monthly allowance, future jobs, basically as dull yet calming as the weather outside. Hot green tea then wrapped up our morning meal.

Christmas in the windy Edinburgh started with roast chicken, parsnip, and carrots deservingly. We messaged the chicken with olive, salt, black pepper, and stubbed it with rosemary and thyme. She & Him Christmas album for soundtrack. Dessert was a selection of assorted mint chocolate and baileys chocolate in red and green boxes. Nomad travelers brought them for gift in exchange for shelters. Chocolaty palate then washed down with mulled wine, Sunkist oranges, cinnamon stalks, star anises, sugar, apple cider, and other spices drenched and boiled in red wine. The best flavor of course the drips you got when you squeeze the boiled, swelled, drenched oranges after the last sip of mulled wine in the pot. This was a recipe to anxiety since wine will lull you instead of waking you up for midnight mass. That called for coffee. The Sumatran coffee package was just an inch away but I thought 30-minute power nap was enough for Christmas mass prep. I tended to fall asleep in masses. The night went away and Christmas morning arose with pink ribbon-tied package in front of my door, with ear-muffs inside. Nice surprise. Lunch was chicken leftovers stir-fried with rice with the girls. The road was silent and serene, like I am Legend scene. End of December was always dreary, weary. 

I like my rogue allure velvet fading through the day

From color block to reddish stain

I like it the best at the end of the day

It’s saturating bold not a pinkish plain

Dry flowers gleaming glory

It darkens, their petals crispy

They don’t come as mild

Agile, then give in to the wild

Their fragility blooms

In gory colored flakes

Their youth is not born

It protrudes

from brightness that fades

Few days ago I bumped into my ex-student. She had graduated from college, then I asked her, what did she do. She was working for a drug company, researching for the cure for cancer. Then, she asked me back. I said, I was working for this organization in which Sri Mulyani was the Managing Director. She frowned and asked, "Who's Sri Mulyani?".

If that had happened during our debating class, she would've been given plenty of homeworks. But considering what she did for a living, somehow general knowledge was no longer significant.

Androgynous Clothing

Whiteboard interview with Yvan Rodic

W :

Having traveled and observed so many places, could you explain what you see as the connection between the environment people live in and the way they dress?

Y :

Sure. Well beyond any trends, there is a deeper factor that expresses the culture. An extreme example would be Scandinavia and Latin America. In Scandinavia, the culture is a very equal society, so you would have women who earn as much as men; they have high positions; they’re in the government; they’re emancipated, etc. It translates into fashion that isn’t sexualized. It’s very common to have an androgynous type of fashion. For example, brands like Acne – most of the stuff they sell is almost possible for both girls and guys to wear it. Scandinavian fashion has this big thing where people want to look good, but they won’t necessarily show a lot of cleavage, be too sexy and so on. Fashion is an extension and expression of culture.

What I Remember

Opulent eggshell door, beige leather seats,

striped strap with small black pen blotch

Two Nici stuffed animals, a sheep and a squirrel

Grey and white squirrel with fair smooth tail.

Bought one in Munich or Frankfurt initially for my luggage

As many trinkets were snatched in the conveyor belt,

I put it in your car instead.

No, it was your late mom’s.

The storage and what’s inside.

Some documents, sunglasses and a pack of envelopes

See, you were on that age to receive wedding invitations

Should be ready with envelopes

You crafted your own cable connector from the radio to iPod

You picked purple

Because I liked purple

And how you were annoyed everytime I used the mirror behind the sun shade

The garage, connected to the kitchen.

Where the plates, knives, glasses were

One crooked glass with dregs stain

The bar, drugs, your late mom’s keys collection

Photos of your nephews, nieces in collages

Toddler mat

All in the dining room.

Wind chimes

Your big screen TV because you loved TV. And big screen

Carpet and cushions

Wooden lounging chair

Broken organ

Family portrait

Beige sofas

The rooms

I remember too much

Your cats, I still have her colorful necklace

How she snuggled to me

Balinese blue mirror from Sukowati from our trip together on the outside

Graduation pictures

Manicured garden

It was gloomy, unattended, yet homey

It was refurbished, clean, yet abandoned

It moved with the age but stopped somewhere

Coexistence between past and progress

And where it stopped with mid flair

Revisited as weekend gathering

Secluded.

Perhaps those were the reasons.

My picture on the wall though

As vivid as

what I remember

as there is no outlet...

...let me just thank SORE Band for launching their new song today, which I could totally relate to. This is one sassy catchy song from the band and the lyrics are good too.

She and Him's Volume 3, similar sentiment:

excuse the cheesiness

Happiness they say is a circle flow

Depend it on no one else I know

but your charm rushed like melted snow

and it’s a joy,

coy, to resist a peck on your morning jaw

I wanna put Oliver Peoples on you

and pocket square too

The past year, I’ve been on a wayfarer

When it’s off, we’re farther

Space is good I know

Yet I wanna draw you closer and put on a show

The Big O

Sixth of March 2013,
11:54
Six minutes before 00:00
With Coltrane power and previously charged by Birth of the Cool,

Let the wait begin

Cigarette

After seeing the movie Flight, I really want to know who sponsor lobbies, studies, and documentaries on the no-smoking campaign. Soda companies? Processed food companies that use lots of MSG?
Funny happenstance, I am currently reading Ratih Kumala's Gadis Kretek, fiction with Indonesian kretek cigarette history as the background.

One Out of Two

I’m Caffeinated

I drank half of grande white chocolate mocha coffee tonight. One and a half pump of syrup, no whip at 6 PM. I knew I couldn’t finish the whole thing, no point in upgrading with my credit card perks. I knew I would be jittery. The last time I had black Mandailing coffee, I stayed up until 3 AM giggling with Astrid while watching a dog show on the telly. From the show I knew that dogs’ purpose in this life is recorded in their DNA and it doesn’t saturate by time. For example, a hunter dog will always be a hunter dog, they’ll be stressed out if you don’t take them run and hunt for something. Poor dog, what if they want to do something different than their predecessor? 

Back to coffee, I am not really a coffee drinker. I am all tea, TWG grand wedding, gorgeous geisha T2 Tea, sari wangi, teh poci. I am very careful with coffee because it does extreme things to me such as wakes me up for 6 hours or more. Besides, drinking coffee is like equipping yourself for boring things ahead. You know you won’t be able to stand the day so you imbibe coffee. You know some show or movie will make you sleepy, you chug on your coffee. It is like you are positive that the future is negative. And I think that what I did today. 

The plan was to see this free-of-charge dance showcase, Fire!Fire!Fire!, a contemporary interpretation of Ramayana tale. Remember, Sinta had to walk through the fire to prove her loyalty and virginity to Rama. But this one was contemporary, so it was clear that they would deconstruct some meaning. This one was contemporary, it was clear I would be clueless. When the time was eighteen hundred, I waited in line for my coffee. Sipped it a bit at the outlet than hailed a cab half an hour later to Gedung Kesenian Jakarta. There in the lobby, I sipped it more until I was sure I had enough defense for the show. 

Then the premonition manifested. Their first piece definitely needed a caffeine shot through an eye. But then the second and third piece from Thailand and Indonesia respectively were awesome. They blurred the line between male and female by putting them in uniform. All white long dress for the Thai piece and lurik fabric for the Indonesian group. Instead of showing royal, kingdom notes on the costumes and make up, they made it proletarian-like. Instead of burning a female Sinta, they were all “burnt” in “fire”, females and males. Looked like an orgy for commoners. Perfect example for Baudillard's "Transparency of Evil" with fluid sexuality, uniformed vision, beyond good and bad and all. The dancers showed beautiful body control plus loads of lean muscle. Let me emphasize on beautiful bodies. I liked the Solo Dance studio pack, especially the guy whose body resembled Jesus on the cross (only leaner) with tat on his back. 

The dance was like a trance, helped me to devour the moment, live in the present, and went I DON’T CARE for my troubles. It was sensual, strong, promised me blossoms and bliss. I’m glad I came to the show. I had never thought I’d enjoy contemporary dance, excited, and blog about it. Now (time is 2 AM), was it the spectacle or was it the coffee? 

Excerpt from Q&A:

Audience: “How do the audience grasp the meaning you try to convey?”
Choreographer1: “You don’t need to understand everything, you just need to enjoy it.” Choreographer2: “Yes, and this is a free show, you don’t lose any dime if you don’t understand it.”

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:)

The option was either to feel hurt or funny or just roll a coolitude on it, only a speckle of event in life. I chose the last one. So, my close friend since elementary school said I couldn't be her maid of honor because at the time she made her decision, my boyfriend (at that time) was not a Christian neither Catholic. This (inter-religion relationship), said she, would not give a correct example. Example for whom, I didn't know. Being exempted from MOH duty was such a release. Listening to the reason was like...seriously?