Life's Choices

For him far too many variables

Eyes to the left, eyes to the right

Incoming from both sides

Hands sweaty, both jitters and fright

Why'd choose this path, he asks no one

Oh for a Google map with no guarantee anyways

To plod on once commitment's forgone

A destination imagined, dreamt of, forever and always

Thing is, you ain't driving all lonely

Whistling a tune when the conversations go lonely

Diversions, distractions, stoppages all plenty

Threatening to stray, to paltry, to forgo sanity

A full U-turn beckons up ahead

A change, a route unchartered on offer

A funny bone tickled, a guffaw emitted

A choice neither asked nor preferred

Baggage, passengers accidental & planned aplenty

All  that start-overs require a severe discard

To not end making the move an insanity

Made at speeds of pure disregard

So he ignores the pass

And presses ahead unerring

Whatever comes, what life hands he'll accepts

With a smile, a song, strong hope unending

Whatever, wherever goes, he quietly reciprocate

There's wonderment to discover, to receive, to appreciate.

Painting of U-Turn by Jessalin Beutler | Saatchi Art 

Flying Contraptions

Can pigs fly?

Sure they can: provided they in the right kind of flying contraption, anything CAN fly, in fact.

Clive Kessler spoke of HIS dilemma over the choice between Pakatan Rakyat and Barisan Nasional to govern this lovely country of ours.

Perhaps there is.

Too quite a few – at the very least the 22,270 odd people who was at the Bersih Sit and Protest – the choice has been made.

Anyway, I have yet to make my choice since I don’t know who will be vying for the two positions over at my constituency.

I think I will make mine a personality based choice.

To know their stand on things. To make sure they are articulate enough about their position on all that is important to the country’s future.

As luck would have it, my change of address is finally effected and I no longer have to drive all the way to Pandan Indah to cast my invaluable vote.

It does feel a bit weird in that I am no longer amongst the so called ears-and-eyes-on-the-ground component of the Govt election machinery aka the MSM.

Supposedly, our news reports (for what they’re worth) provide the powers-that-be with a gauge on how things are going with the masses.

Really? Could well be a figment of my own over estimation of reporter-self worth. Funny Ha Ha. Didn’t accept my take on the Chinese massive vote swing the last time.

It was fun all the same to be right in the thick of things when it comes to the ceramahs and what not.

Parliamentary dissolution notwithstanding, we do seem to be in a perpetual pre-General Election mode these days with ceramahs galore, show-of-strength rapat umums, unabashed feel-good factor highlights, shameless "choose me" political speeches, handouts to the masses etc etc.

Even the party flags are a-fluttering. Billboards campaigning too: Janji Di Tepati; shouts one along the southern route of the North South Highway, seen during a recent balik kampong trip to Johor.

And then, there are also the many  - too many - pronouncements these days from the Barisan Nasional fellas of “trouble if Pakatan Rakyat losses in the General Election”, “Be gentleman la”, or something along the line.

My, my. Whatever do they mean? A pre-telegraphed nipping at the bud action, perhaps? A smug confidence that a win is already in hand? A Goebbels communiqué? Hmmm...

Suffice to say, the only thing missing from this whole equation is the players aka the candidates.

Who will I choose?  Who will it be?

First things first, though. PMNTR has to make the call, the trumpet for the 5-year mandate seeking exercise to begin.

So the BIG question is: When will he? 

PS: The woman pictured below will make a fine candidate in my and surely a whole lot of others, good books...

Valued Attachments

 Just the other my youngest daughter asked me: “Is RM1 for a piece of sausage expensive?”

Being typical me, I didn’t give her a straight answer, opting instead on a cryptic (for a kid of seven who just started school, I assume so): “It’s not the number that is put on the item that matters, but the value it actually carries that makes it either expensive or not.”

Feel free to judge if this example clears it up for the poor child: “RM1 for a piece of sweets is expensive, but the RM1 for a car would be dirt cheap.”

I knew she didn’t understand as she then reiterated: “So, can I continue to buy from the seller or not?”

In the end, my wife – who overheard the conversation – decided to put an end to the subject by packing her and the elder sister sausages to bring to their holiday camp every alternate days or so.

Her question did get me thinking though: pricing is moot as opposed to the value of items, and yet value on its own is highly subjective.

Take for instance my RM388k home in the, ahem, Greater Kuala Lumpur area (heh).  The price tag caused me to slightly break sweat all over my brow, but speak of the same TODAY, it’s cheap. 

Not DIRT CHEAP, but Klang Valley suburb cheap.

Looking at the prices of even mere terrace home (intermediate lot, mind you!), I am thankful to my better half for convincing me to take the plunge (and the developer for coming out with a pretty good, spacious home at the said price which was quite competitive about 3 ½ years ago).

Depending on our, urm, financial community (for want of a better word) standings, value is even more subjective than ever.

So, to the, urm, semi well-heeled, the Lamborghini Avantador at RM2.8m (plus minus) is a VALUE proposition to the RM5.2m Buggati Veyron, especially since you can get your hands on the Lambo far easier than the Veyron.

For the likes of even the semi well-heeled then, the RM240K Lotus Elise is literally a weekend go-cart model which can be thrashed if they are so inclined.

The top-of-the-range RM73K Proton Preve? Bah!!

Of course, they are the (what’s before semi? quarter?) well-heeled who do not carry the same philosophy on values as mentioned above and thinks that a RM23K well maintained second / third hand Mini Austin is as good a car as any others.

I’ve meet one, in fact: hangs around in his favourite kopitiam in shorts, singlet and slippers in between minding his million Ringgit restaurant business.

He is an old timer, though. From simpler days when money wasn’t everything and flaunting your wealth is as welcomed as farting out loud in public.

Do I think RM1 for a piece of sausage expensive, then?

Selling to kids at a State Mosque function: but of course!

Reo Speedwagon (With apologies)

Got some distressing news this morning: my cousin’s marriage is apparently in tatters.

Her former husband had divorced her twice in the course of the last two months and, as is usually the case, there is another woman involved – a divorcee.

Poor Paknjang (as I called her father) has had to be warded when his blood pressure shot through the roof throughout the family ordeal.

Both their children are now with their grandparents (her side) and she’s left to fend on her own here in KL.

She’s said to be pleading with her ex to get back together; something which her mother is totally against.

All I got was third hand information from my wife whom Maknjang rang up this morning so there are a lot of holes in the story, but I do worry about how my cousin is doing.

My wife and I had been in a similar situation too some years ago and our marriage were fortunate to have survived such a grueling and cruel test.

Without wanting to point the blame finger on anyone, I am wondering when and how the point of no return was crossed in my cousin’s case?

I remember her “gossiping” with my better half about a third woman – a nurse, if I am not mistaken – during one of the family visit way back when we were still staying in Ipoh.

It usually starts with the man of the house.

Typically something to do with "finding the (so called) right one". Right. You and I know that's just full of bull.

The truth is that we were simply wayward.

Why exactly? Why are we so easily enticed with words of sweet nothings and willing to forget solemn vows, breaking family ties and severing relationships that took years to build?

These are questions I ask myself even.

When I was deep in the same waywardness shit the last time, I justified it on the basis of the supposed uncontrollable human emotion of “feelings”.

Such an abstract word is the perfect scapegoat for the unfaithful.

Up to a point, feelings are indeed the factor at play in wrecking marriages and breaking homes, but there is a crucial controllable equation in the emotional-jigsaw in that the parties involved allow a spark to grow into a full blow Super Nova.

The oft quoted “I can’t help my feelings” is pure bullshit used by men to justify their infidelities as the truth is that we CAN tone it. Considerably so.

In the case of married fathers, keep those lecherous emotions and thoughts in check enough for the imprints of our faithful better half and beautiful children to surface over the superficially imposed, all flowers and bees, image of a woman who “understands me”.

Our wives understood us for years and decades to put up with our egoism, foibles, flaws, cantankerousness, emotional handicaps etc etc etc.

Otherwise they would have left a long time ago.

Do I wish my cousin and her husband to get back together?

I do.

I know, too, however that it’s going to be a long and difficult journey for scarred hearts and emotions to mend.

Just like Stephen King’s IT, such things often return to taunt just when you think you’re on the right path.

And as muslims, my cousin has only once chance left to make things work.

The question is: Does HE want to get back together?

Or is it be a case of “I can’t help my feelings”?

Preve-sieve Thoughts

If Proton is made private by its new owner, is it still categorically a national car?

Will the nation still be needed to “help out” a privately-owned Proton?

Proton’s going private is the latest in a string of going-private-moves in Malaysia Inc.  and I supposed this shouldn’t be of any concerned to us lay-non corporate-movers-man on the street.

Unless Proton is still very much a national category brand with all the national car benefits and what not, that is.

Really: what does going private mean anyway?

All I know is that you don’t need to answer to anyone as the company / corporation is bloody yours to do as you will and pleases. Correct?

Some corporate-world savvy bloggers must surely be able to enlighten us on this one.

The relationship between Proton and the lay person goes a long way ever since the car-maker and sometimes assembler made its debut a long time ago in 1983 with its Proton Saga.

Alas, what was initially set up as a Malaysia automotive tour-de force is today much maligned by its detractors who blamed Proton for its part in skyrocketing the price of automobiles in this country.

Comparatively, that is: cherries and pisang nangka comparison at best.

One thing that does stand out is its inability to force its way into the International arena unlike, for example, its Korean counterpart Hyundai.

Arguably though, Hyundai did come into the scene much earlier in 1967 and made international market headway in the 1980’s. It is going great guns these days, together with its stable-mate Kia.

Back to Proton: What will it take for the brand to make its global breakthrough?

It is pushing the mass-market envelope with latest offering in the Proton Prevé  which is priced just borderline-competitive in the C-Segment for us locals.

As for me, it’s always a case of once twice shy when it comes to Proton as I’ve had the worst of experience with a lemony of an acquisition of the Proton Gen2.

Suffice to say, my better half swears off the maker for life. Me: I still give some kudos to Proton designers although the Prevé’s rear lights mirror (heh) that of the previous City a fair bit.

Is the Prevé it for Proton?  Or is making Proton private it?

Or don’t we care anymore?

 

Hop and Skitter

How I wish I was at a field
Grassy expanse providing seats unnumbered
Watching birds hop on their thin legs
Flitting from blades to shrubs to dandelions odd

I shut my eyes from the glare of the morning sun
Shaded so by sky cottons, white unblemished
Sharing space so vast a landscape so clear
A cheery visage of creation magical

Around the chatter of adults and children
Enjoying some bustling, yet, serenely quiet moments
The nuclear family of bygone days remembered
When life was simpler and toiling, fettered

Birds hop and skitter
Squirrels whiz and peer
Buzzards group and hover
An arena of nonchalance unhindered

Alas at the moment I am elsewhere
A blinded window my fixed portrait
Walled in pseudo-faked comforts so-called
Tapping away of plain husks words

Outside my glassy domain
A bird, black, on the ledge it stands
Spies through a break in blinds green
Perhaps it thinks, maybe it ponders
Why the coop, whence the surrender
A life imprisoned, a cocoon self made
As if flies away, the slight hint of smug
Of freedom afforded
And life expanded

How I wish I was at that field
Where birds hop and squirrels whiz

Mytholitically Speaking

"I know there is a perigi (well) Hang Tuah in Malacca but it was built by the local people and they go there at night to ask for numbers …"

It is good to know that someone so respected in the world of the Malaysian academia have a wicked sense of humour.

(What? It is seditious of the good Professor to sully the grave of the great Hang Tuah by saying so? Really, ahh?)

So then, should mythos and facts mix it up in our good old Malaysian (ahem) history?

Nope, but I do think that most myths are basically exaggerated facts so much so the tales become way too tall to totally tell.

One fact which I can tell is this: all these myths help make, urm, “history” the more pleasurable (the less tedious?) to learn.

Give the children (and adults too) some credit in that they will be able to discern which are facts and which are not.

There is of course the danger in driving through myths as facts to promote a certain agenda: but Churchill (Winston) was partially right when he said:”History is written by the victors.”

Partially because the human tenacity has often also seen scripts by the so-called losers filter out to the world, eventually.

Anyway, back to Hang Tuah.

The version that’s etched forever in my mind and memory is unfortunately P Ramlee’s and not the Hikayat due to the former being the more easily digestible form.

Political intrigue, love romance, comradeship, treason, an anti hero, fight scenes… and all within a mere one half hour of doing nothing.

Now, what is there not to like about P Ramlee’s Hang Tuah?

Just don’t forget to open the window to chuck out any so supposed factual facts.

The now immortalized words in PRamlee’s version of “Akukah yang bersalah atau Jebatkah yang bersalah?" though says a whole lot about the reason why the legend of Hang Tuah existed for so long though.

So, did Hang Tuah exist? Probably.

What of his exploits? Probably exaggerated.

PS: Posting's no relation to pix below.

Langkawi Posers

One of my daughters has a creative way of hinting for something she wants and would like to have / do / go etc etc.

She would go: “Do you remember the time when …..” and depending on the item at hand, would insert the particular experience.

So, I was on red alert when she asked of Pulau Pangkor - we're somehow a regular visitor of the tourist attraction in Perak – as I sort of knew that wasn't the ultimate destination she was interested in.

Turned out she wanted to ask about Pulau Langkawi, a place we've never visited as a family despite the wifey's kampung being so close in Arau.

Individually, both my wife and I have been in Langkawi though.

My visit was like decades ago, and that too, was an official function so I was literally being ushered around - well, not in style as I was a junior back then – from one place to another. Sure saved a bundle in finding a suitable Langkawi accommodation and car rental for the said trip.

That trip did not provide a lasting impression though and nowadays, it seems that people are flocking to the island to shop.

My sister in law followed her husband (a civil servant) recently whereby their accommodation was conveniently within walking distance of the shopping attractions.

Seems that the Government's function organisers knows their destination very well!
They did mentioned that the school holidays are probably not the best times to visit Langkawi as prices tended to hike up a fair bit during these busy season including the hotels and homestays.

However, with two school going kids in tow there is no way we could make time outside of these free times to visit the place.

So, visiting Langkawi would likely NOT be a spur of the moment decision with quite a fair bit of planning necessary.

Need to keep the destination in mind from now as the kids will surely again (and again I'm sure) prop the hinting questions one blue moon.

Asgardian Magik

Weird one this:

Tenaga Nasional Bhd, Malaysia’s biggest power producer, received an advanced payment of RM1 billion from the government on behalf of state-owned Petroliam Nasional Bhd as compensation for additional costs arising from a shortage of gas supply, CIMB Group Holdings Bhd said in a report today.

Imagine that.

Never mind that Petronas was recently reported to be in a general disagreement with Tenaga over the whole gas shortage issue but, Hey Presto!, the Government chips in.

Read : “on behalf” technically means that it is NOT from Petronas’ coffer. Or is it?

(Am really wondering where our Government is churning out all this money from. Couple of billions here, there and everywhere in between. What’s with all the RM500 extras for households earning less than RM3,000 per month and more.

Aren’t we in budget deficit or something?)

There’s more in fact: Bloomberg says that a CIMB Analyst says - without the latter attributing from where he got this one from - that Tenaga may get another RM1 billion from the government within this financial year ending August.

There you go.

That said, RM2 billion technically is not a whole lot of money for the Government to be so murah hati: but hold on here; are we talking about the Gomen’s money or Petronas money here?

Or is it the same thing that the Petronas money is basically Gomen’s money? (Not the other way around, though, mind you).

Sometime last year from I cannot remember when, my monthly electric bill went up by some 7%.

Yep, I’m one of those who is guilty of using excessive electricity to power my internet, aircond unit (no “s” there, please note), fridge, the occasional Astro viewing, laptop charging, washing machine etc.

It is a substantial 7% hike for me and from what I gather, this month’s onwards I will kena another 1% for some Green thingy initiative for using more than RM70++ worth of electricity every month. Maybe, or maybe not: we shall see.

In the meantime, Tenaga is like bleeding money.

Why in heaven’s name is there a monolith of a power generation project constructed way out there in the Sarawak wilderness is best known to those who concocted the project in the first place.

For a muslim, one should therefore be thinking that there in a less than Barakah element in all these income that the country is earning, no?

Maybe: I shall leave this question to those who are way much more knowledgeable than me to ponder.

In the meantime, pay we shall do.

Bookend Decree

I issued a “decree” yesterday to my eldest daughter: She is to read at least one book a month followed through with a report on it.

One book in 30 days should be a cinch; to a bookworm it would be nothing, but the actual challenge would be in the report on whatever it is that she has read.

I told her that the report would have to alternate between English and Bahasa Melayu, and that she could have her pick on the books she wants to read as long as they are not comic books and school text books.

Her language skills needs sharpening, but what I am more worried of is in her somewhat urm, fear, of expanding her thoughts beyond what she thinks her teachers (perhaps even her parents) would deemed as correct.

Thus, when she was asked to write about a particularly funny experience with her loved ones, it was quite the chore for her.

Of course, she is only entering her first few days in Standard Four, but there are obvious barriers that need removing.

Her younger sister will also be doing the same minus the report so I’ve bought two glitzy coloured notebooks as their “Books-read Diary”.

I’m keen to see how things progresses from this little experiment to perk up my children’s creative juices.

All the same, I realized that I, too, have not read a good book for quite a long while now. Not even a good comic book so much so that I cannot recall the last which created a lasting.

The last two which did perk me up was a thick book on Islam by an Indonesian writer who I have since forgotten (discovered this at the spankingly new Shah Alam public library only to later found out that that it was a “reference only” copy) and Reza Aslan’s “Tiada Tuhan Melainkan Allah”.

This was the translated version of “No God but God” first published in 2005, but I was hooked after reading the first few (tens, in fact) pages when I chanced upon it at Times Bookstore near my workplace weeks ago.

Alas, the sole copy was sold off when I wanted to purchase it a few days later but there it was on the shelves during lunch today.

And so it sits inside a plastic bag next to my piles for in, pending and out files waiting to be read later tonight, something which I can’t wait to do.

I am wondering now if there was anything similar which had perked my daughters’ “reading buds” which they mentioned to me and my better half which we – in the haste of chasing after life – had conveniently or inadvertently let slip by without realizing its importance.

Words spoken but left unsaid. Really should start listening to them.

And, yes, the year started with a bang (three in fact, which is no laughing matter when you think of the seriousness in intentions) for Malaysia with Anwar Ibrahim off the hook for alleged sodomy.

The seemingly surprise verdict? Sure seems to me like a poker player dealing his good hands way too early, just like the whole Sept 16 debacle the last time for the PKR man. He will never learn, will he? Sigh…

Trombone-ing Pastiche

US truck driver David Dopp won a 640-bhp Lamborghini Murcielago Roadster, crashed it within 6 hour of owning and now plans to sell the convertible as the 34-year old couldn’t afford neither the supercar’s insurance nor its taxes.

Talk about luck, huh?

I was once stuck behind a Murcielago waiting for the traffic lights to change GO near the Kota Damansara toll plaza.

Know the feeling of being in a small car stuck in traffic with a behemoth of an old, diesel powered lorry shaking every nuts and bolts of your Perodua Viva loose? It was exactly the same with me and the Murcielago.

I think the owner did some modification as the exhaust vent was huge; enough to shove a whole head inside and check out what brewing!

Funnily enough, the driver didn’t actually zoom off the moment the lights turned green; happily ambling along like the rest of the ordinary automobile mortals.

Ivory white, so low slung that it seems to hug the road (is that the reason why you opted for slow, good sir?), the Murcielago was quite something to behold.

The driver was a youngish, bespectacled Chinese chap who had a smiley, friendly face so much that I didn’t end up envying him for having such a superb example of a motoring draw.

What would I do with a Lamborghini? Probably sell it like David Dopp. Only because I had a slip disk episode some time ago and couldn’t tolerate any sitting position other than the sit-upright style.

Tax and insurance? Yeah, that too. Even servicing my current two locally-licensed cars are already giving me quite a yearly headache.

And the money could sure go a long way in clearing off the long list of household debts which I hear is growing in good old Malaysia.

For sure, if your thoughts HAVE to veer towards such mundane things in life, a Lamborghini (or any other similarly high end motoring brand) is probably not for you.

These are the weekend toys for those whose worry is the next clear stretch for an 80 to 200kmh torque test.

Yep. All that thrum-thrumming coming for the huge exhaust is not for show.

Or rattling the nuts and bolts of its puny(er?) motoring counterparts.

Imagined Stupor

Should I care
That the moon shuns a cloudless night sky
Should the sun cools a breezy afternoon
When a river trickles through a land parched
If the wind skips a sail held limp

Do I dare
Mouth words written silently in my mind
Capture images floating in a imagined album
Deny a memoir sketch from memory
Cast gloom on a dreamy fantasy

Don’t we fear
When children are adults too fast
Where rulers and peasants crowd the market selling
(Who’s buying we say as we turn away)
Of trusts treated like a private cask
Since liars masquerade as heralds born

Are we to enjoy
A hearty laughter from a stomach empty
At salesmen selling imagination for a fee
The measured trusts of dueling racial rapiers
When piled the land’s riches on barges
(Traversing the sea to destinations unknown)

My frame slouches
As the mind doubts
Of feigned interests
And caring, hyped

So we leave things be
Figuring somebody else
Will carry the burden of ascendency
A life in a stupor of faked serenity…

Gempita Tika

Jajahnya luas tidak terlangkau pandangan akan hujungnya
Hujung yang juga titik punca pagi tiba dan senja menghilang
Hijau yang bercampur aduk kuning, biru dan jingga
Di suatu sudut sekawan lembu tampak terlena
Menumpang redup pepohon yang tunggal setia

Disebelah besi yang tercacak menongkah awan
Berdiri di kakinya but tinggi mencicah lumpur
Seorang mandor? Atau Super?
Sebelah tangan mencekak pinggang,
Yang bebas sibuk mengibas
Menyilat unggas unggas yang membingit rimas

Kelihatannya mencari sesuatu
Tolehannya perlahan kiri kanan mengeluh
Mata tidak mengerjip barang sewaktu
Teropong tergalas belum tersentuh
Agaknya apa kata dirinya
Meyelam keindahan hadiah yang Esa.

Sayangnya bising laguan memecah bicara sendu suasana
Tersentak si mandor Super lantas tangan pantas menggagau
Mencapai handphone, di poket kiri hitam warnanya
“Saya..Saya…” jawabnya kepada sipemanggil bersuara garau
Entah apa yang dikata, apa pula yang dikota

Tamat panggilan,
si lelaki kurus tinggi mendengus keras
Serabut tampak hatinya
alat di tangan seperti hendak dihempas
“Kerja gila!!” bentaknya bersuara
Berkerut bibirnya menjuih seperti benci akan kerja
Yang bakal datang tiba

Datang si burung pipit terbang menyinggah sebentar cuma
Sang mandor yang geram gempita tercuit sedar
Terpancar lembut kalimah suci dari jiwa tercalar
Mengangguk akur nikmat diterima walau sekadar masa
Meliuk pergi bagai sejuk angin menggigit kulit terbuka

Berdiri kembali memandang padang saujana
Di bibirnya senyuman terukir tanpa paksa
Bising pipit dibiar berkala
Entah esok lusa mungkin tiada...

Ho Hum Bunkum aka My WishList

“Mr Prime Minister, please ease the pain of mid-income group” makes a whole lot of sense, but is it too far too late a good proposition to incorporate?

We’ll know well enough later today when PMNTR go through the whole shebang of presenting the Budget 2012.

Once upon a time I used to enjoy the presenting of the budget by the nation’s Prime Minister. Until Pak Lah came along and made it a pain to sit through with some really, urm, awesome reading of the Budget Speech.

Aiyoh.

Last year’s Budget however a disappointment, particularly for the said middle income bracket (I’m in this one, perhaps within the lower to mid Mid Range band, if you may) group of rakyat as there was practically NOTHING for us.

The worst came later during tax assessment day when you realized that; “Hey, they’ve changed the bloody thing and now much of the relief I have before is either consolidated or mysteriously, inconspicuously, missing”.

Fortunately, the IRD (don’t you just the 1Malaysia era of astounding acronyms) came through with relatively painless refunding of excesses paid; though they did complain about employers paying too much of their staff’s pay vis-à-vis the PCB deductions.

My Budget 2012 wishlist?

Cheaper cars, or better public transportation system. Or BOTH and they can ditch the fuel subsidies.

BK Sidhu’s (as per her article mentioned above) wider range of tax brackets to allow the mid ones some breathing space.

Ditch the tax on Imported books (and comics too!)

To give more clout to the Parliamentary Public Accounts Committee to look / investigate / recommend / reprimand all the ketirisan in governmental expenditures.

A cool RM1 million in my savings account tonight at 6pm-ish.

This is MY WISHLIST after all, correct?

Sigh.

My inane wishes notwithstanding, I do foresee an abundance of feely-goody, smoochy-touchy, excellently WoWishly, news headline in all of tomorrows MSM.

Will any of these be of good news to us Mid Rangers?

That we shall know later today. Tune in, if you wish so.

Katsuhiro Otomo's Memories

A Dusty Tarred Road

A tarred road that’s dusty
A rusty old bus dang creaky
A perky radio deejay so freaky
Yakking away, trailing words aplenty.

How could he sleep so still,
Eyes shut, his head lolling,
Mouth opens, his spittle dribbling,
Its reservoir an unwashed shirt with no frill

A journey long,
Passing a town ghostly
Of buildings tall,
Of façade ghastly,
Boxed by walls unsurfaced
Caretakers solo, facing idleness unfazed

Into a pothole tyres skipped
A jarring thump as the driver let it ripped
Awaken momentarily, he eyes her sleepily
A brief smile, a recognition she receives willingly

Sweet companion he is, in that she’s aware
Through thick and thin was her promise her dare
Her thoughts lost, she touches a ring, third finger, no stone so bare
A gift from long ago, when fantasy was beyond compare

In her mind she sighs
Thoughts of days past, of tomorrows yet to come
Of daily trudging and endless hours
Forever waiting for a weekend that’s calm
Slaving away in a country she thought her own
Born a Bumi, a Malay, a Muslim, taught, aged, all home grown

A journey continues
Of wrong turns and mistaken cues
From the speaker blares so loud a song
Lionel Richie (so old) singing “All Night Long”

On To Something

A Minggu BERSIH, huh?

I, for one, sure like this suggestion by Dr Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin following our Prime Minister’s backtracking on the whole 9th July get together.

Imagine a sea of yellow and a fluttering of the word BERSIH everywhere. Of course, there will be an intermittent of the colour… - urmm, what is exactly the colour of dirt aka KOTOR? – as this is, as far as we can tell anyway, a relatively, ahem, free country.

For the BERSIH steering committee fellas, a week (or even a weekend) should be enough to push the message through, doesn’t it?

There’s no need to even have firebrand rallies at the stadium if this BERSIH Week or Weekend plan comes afoot.

Ibrahim Ali’s Perkasa and Khairy Jamaluddin’s Umno Youth can have the same week or weekend so that their supporters can fly their Anti-BERSIH flags and what not.

Better yet, there’s also no need for Mahaguru Omardin to control his 50,000 silatists' emotions then. Huge relief there.

And please, for one, leave the “It’s all to divert attention from Anwar's case” bollocks.

Yeah, yeah, we know all about it and you know what, I dare say that he no longer matters that much.

Remember the “Who can that be?” question posted by Umno wayward blogger SakMongkol47? One his frequent reader / postee / commentator / follower Walla answered definitely: “They must obey the clean-and-fair governance demands of the enlightened rakyat.”

Pure and simple, isn’t it?

There are whole load thesis written on the electoral systems the democratic world over, and how the current First-past-the-post voting system we’re using currently is, well, unfair as votes are not proportionally counted.

Instances include a constituency of say, 28K voters returns one rep as would one of 280K (usually urban) and, as such, garnering a 60% popular vote would not equate 60% in representation.

Unfair, ain’t it? Couple that with the mainstream news papers and television networks providing negligible coverage for other than, say, Umno politicians, and you could say it was a surprise that the Opposition Coalition (we were told to use that word the last time around) won the state that they did.

I remember the dreaded apprehension at the Perak MB’s residence the night of the 2008 General Election results.

Had Edgar Allan Poe been alive and present there, he would have be able to write a sequel to his “Tell-Tale Heart” tale of torrid, terrifying terror.

The former MB stayed indoors throughout the countdown as Perak went to the Opposition (until, that is, the defection of the trio of duplicitous creeps. I never did agree with Anwar’s defection game and this one must have hurt him bad, surely).

Anyway, back to Minggu BERSIH.

Even the title alone doesn’t provoke, does it? BERSIH is a clean (pun intended fully) word made dirty by a host of provocative campaigning against it.

You can certainly say the whole thrust of BERSIH 2.0 – for a fair elections – was indeed hijacked by politicians from all three sides (Ibrahim Ali being the third cog in the Pakatan vs Barisan equation) of the Malaysian political divide.

Dr Asri is on to something there, don’t you think?

So how now?

Eyes Wide Open

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me--
and there was no one left to speak out for me.

Martin Niemöller (1892-1984)

Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.

V

The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us!"... and I'll look down and whisper "No."

They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father or President Truman. Decent men who believed in a day's work for a day's pay.

Instead they followed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late. Don't tell me they didn't have a choice.

Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody Hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers... and all of a sudden nobody can think of anything to say.

Walter Kovacs/Rorschach

Sweating Cash

I once dreamt of a swimming pool
Olympic sized, its water bluish cool
On the undulating fluidic carpet floats
Millions in cash, a mix of red, blue and purple notes

In my dream on the diving board I stood
The world around me encircled in a fish eye lens hood
Readying to dive, thinking head first or foot
Into all that wealth, a life of riches, so magnificent a loot

Scents crisps of printed value assail my every inhale
To take it all in, I could well be a whale
Around me, people unknown, unrecognized, their laughter hearty and hale
Partaking a frenzied orgy, drunk from overfilled moneyed ale

I readied myself for a plunge so blissful
Encouraging shouts and whistle, urging and egging
Even as the watery stash gave birth to more cash by the bucketful
Spilling outwards, a bulging ogre’s torso to my horrific imagining

Jump, they shouted
Take the plunge, they brayed
A worldly paradise, they hinted
Arms wide, grinning, their words honeyed

The wind rushes past my flanks as I vaulted headlong
A whiff of sadness, whisper of regret
A soul succumbed, a fate forgone
My whole world then so sudden so quiet so dead

Notes red, blue and purple embraced my arrival
Edges sharp, cutting, snipping, engulfing, encircling
There was no water, in papers I was drowning
I thrashed, I grappled, my cries more and more audible

A plunge going deeper and deeper
All around me, chattering, chirping
Passing wealth of worldly boaster
A deathly oblivion, a sickened passing

I woke up in dread
A sweaty dream more a nightmare
As a RM note, red
Flitted freely traversing the fanned air

Stooging Stage

There are moments when not talking can sometime be the best possible option.

For the so-called Obedient Wives Clubs (the now infamous OWC) management, this following excerpt quoted by the Malay Mail is, I think, one such moment.

“When we said that husbands should treat their wives like first-class prostitutes, we were not putting wives on the same level with prostitutes. We are talking about first-class elite types, not street hooker types.”

Goodness gracious. Golly ghee whizz.

Downright degrading words - Prostitutes, street hooker types and a first-class elite types.

Were they said in a single breath, I wonder?

My hope is that it was a statement loosely translated from Bahasa Melayu but I have my doubts.

Seriously, though, maybe it’s just a ploy by OWC to get some prominence in the printed pages and online.

There’s a Time interview waiting too apparently. More publicity and the inanity (insanity?) can now go global.

Superb. Just superb.

Crummy Chums

The room is musty, the sofa creaky
Old magazines, its pages tattered keeping company the lonely
Apt description for the kopiah wearing Pakcik (or is it Haji?)
All the way he came, paid 25 bucks for a ride in a taxi
To meet one who must surely be somebody
Inside a room, a secretary in front, so pretty

Reads, stands, sits, paces
Every once in a while he peers
At the young lady looking so earnest
A smile so sullen in caught glances

It’s his fault, this long wait, the Pakcik swears
Took the odd few minutes away performing his prayers
Could have well been the time he reached his queue
He tried, he did, queried for a clue if said was true
Didn’t want to pester the secretary too much
Don’t wish to be called an old grouch

He sighs, curls his lips slight
Second to minutes to hours passed
A small window of moment was all he needed
To tell that someone his very plight

The door open, solid wood adorned
From within earshot, laughter’s heard
Two men? Could, too, be a third
Guffaws, chatters, a merriness none awkward
Old friends, perhaps, the Pakcik guesses a hazard

Three, indeed, they passed him by
Quick glances, none which registered
The Pakcik had stood, had smiled, the smile since faded
Realising he was all but invisible

“Pakcik datang lain kali.”
“Hari ni tak boleh. Datuk busy.”
He smiled a smile that’s weary
Thinking he was simply, surely unlucky
To not be in the list, of people chummy
As down in the corridor, the laughter, noisy
Shoulders slapping, the warmest camaraderie

To be in the list, of people so chummy