gypsies
I want to live in a caravan
With yellow painted doors and a chimney so rusty blue
Drawn by a handsome pony up front
His coat a gleaming brown, his eyes gentle and kind
Aries be his name, a burden so great he bears
Yet never in solitary for his lifelong company is me
I want to live in a caravan
Not confined, not restricted as a free person should be
When the days are bright and the clouds are banished
These are the days I truly cherish
For the green grass spread out so far is my haven
Glad be my heart and my worries thin
I shall run and laugh and skip and sing
Of songs of plants and moss and leaves
Fresh they be from the morning dew
A sight so precious yet seen by too few
A gentle breeze caresses my face, calling for dusk
The sun bids farewell, the moon smiles at last
The land is near silent but for our caravans
The chirping crickets add to the musicals of insects and men
Wood crackles in the spitting bonfire near where I lay
With all my beautiful friends so merry and gay
A fine instrument of strings we pluck and play
Singing songs of comfort and friendships and passing days
When the fire dims and the songs run low
The sandman is king until the morning crow
And when my body succumbs to the calls of the years
Ending my days of running and laughing like a little girl
A large yellow cloth I shall sprawl
On the green grass underneath a tree so sturdy and tall
A book in my hands bearing the tales of the world
Yet none seem so fair than my caravan and travels for sure
A soft breeze rustles the leaves shaking off the dry golds and browns
Whispering sighs of a different note yet in sync they sound
On withered limbs I stand, my grey hair flowing free
Looking beyond the horizon and there I see
Another adventure ahead which I must adjourn
To a final destination, a point of no return
Though too great a price to pay it seems
The wind tells me everlasting peace it will bring
Roamed the earth I have
Traveled far and wide I have
In Aries and my caravan I trust
No more than what I had shall I ask.
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I thought I should explain a little more about this ‘poem’, if you will. Like all the best manuscripts (ahem) I wrote it on pen and paper, took perhaps a week and a half to really sit down and think of what I want to say.
When I was little I read Enid Blyton’s Mr. Galliano’s Circus series over and over again. The first book was about little Jimmy and his family being asked to join the circus and they moved into a caravan. Like most of Blyton’s books (Faraway Tree, Wishing Chair etc) I was caught up in the dreamy almost mystical unreal world that captures a child’s imagination. The traveling circus and caravans were stuck in my head for a very long time.
Basically ‘Gypsies’ is a sketchy desire for freedom. The idea of being utterly free and not tied down to anything more than what is necessarily appeals greatly to me. From Enid Blyton and a lot of childhood imaginations, being free involves fields of green, a host of Mother Nature and a great deal of seeing the world.
The thing is, we all know that such absolute freedom does not exist. As ST plainly said, “remember you have to shit in a bucket and live by the side of the highway.” Even gypsies had more than societal problems. So forever will it remain an ideal.
It has to be that way because we have seen the effects of those who imposed their definition of freedom to the world. What happened later was, it went back to bite them in their arses. However so caught up they were with their own beliefs that a vicious cycle thus came into place; destruction, destruction, more destruction and self-righteousness on both or more sides. A little imagination can be a terrifying thing.
Nevertheless imagination also fuels the human spirit to either undo what they have done, or reach a pact of understanding between various cultures and societies. Two quotes from two movies illustrates this : from Spiderman “With great power comes great responsibility” and from Lord of the Rings “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us”.
Power, time and responsibility. It is up to you on how you would use it.
Don’t bug me, I’m a dreamer 
Besides I would never name my horse Aries.
banana fritters
This is something cute from my 16 year old days. I just added a few more lines to make it sound not like a 16 year old. The rough English translation is as below.
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Goreng pisang fried bananas
Here take this one, ini masih panas
My fried bananas are good to eat
Tepung pun garing senang digigit
Pisang ini pisang nangka
Oh yes it is as sweet as gula melaka
Sekali cuba nak lagi rasa
Don’t eat one eat two
Because if you eat one
You will want to eat two
Tentumu tak puas makan satu
Satu tak cukup, makan dulu
Kalau nak goreng lagi kena tunggu
Lepas makan jangan lupa bayar
Because if you don’t nanti aku cucuk tayar
If you can’t drive home aku gelak ketawa
Tulah, nak makan free, padan muka.
(Banana fritters, banana fritters
Here take this one, it is still hot
My fried bananas are good to eat
The flour is crispy it’s easy to bite into
This is the ‘nangka’ type banana
Oh yes it is as sweet as gula melaka
Once you tried it you would want more
Don’t just have one, have two
Because if you have one
You would want two
You won’t be satisfied with just one
Finish eating the first one even if it is not enough
If I were to fry more bananas you would have to wait
After you are done eating do not forget to pay
Because if you don’t pay I would bust your tyres
If you can’t drive home I would just laugh at you
Serves you right for wanting my fried bananas for free)
recharge @ zoukfest, genting highlands
First I would like to clarify one thing. Damien did ask me if I wanted to go for a rave party on the 5th of March at Genting Highlands and I said no. Reasons for that being stuff to do, I was not really feeling up to it and Jaime’s birthday plans were uncertain.
Then J confirmed her birthday bash’s date and it was probably during a Misai session with Damien and ST that I abruptly decided to go. I called Jo to ask if she could get tickets for me and J, but she did not answer her phone. She called back later but at that time I was way engrossed in a game of DOTA, so I told her that I would call her back.
I didn’t. Slipped my mind. Jaime went to Tower Records the following day but was told that all the tickets were sold out. And that was why we did not purchase the pre-sale tickets. There you go, that was why I was wishy-washy about going/ not going, end of story, stop bugging me. Bleh.
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The Drive
So on Saturday Duncan, Carol, J and I drove up to Genting Highland.
Me with Duncan
Carol with Duncan
It wasn’t so bad a traffic jam though we saw a lot of young people in their party finery headed towards the same destination. Yes, lots of ahbengs. Not so many ahlians though, I think women know how to dress better these days.
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Attempt to purchase tickets #1
We reached around 4 something in the afternoon and Duncan and I went off to purchase ‘post sale’ tickets. We reached First World’s The Pavilion only to see a huge crowd gathered in the tiniest of space and they were not there to purchase tickets to see a Chinese singer from nowhere (whose concert tickets were also for sale).
And they haven’t even started selling tickets for the Zouk rave party. PLUS you could only purchase only one ticket per person.
Random photo of Michelle
Duncan and I started queuing up as best as we could, seeing that there were no queue lines no barriers no indications etc. Soon the rest arrived and there we were, a bunch of hot sweaty morons who didn’t purchase pre-sale tickets.
The crowd began to chant insults at the ticket operators, hurling abuse in a kaleidoscope of language unique to Malaysia. Still they would not budge. More chants and abuses and isolated screaming. Finally a century later the people behind the counter began to sell a few tickets. Several lucky ravers struggled to get past us, their hair all messed up and sweat trickling from their tired but happy faces.
Then that was it. The counters were closed. No more tickets, all sold out, so they say.
WHAT THE FUCK?!?
Defeated we retreated to the food court to meet the rest – ST, FA, Kim, KY, Terence, Damien etc. Sat around for a bit then decided to try our luck at the main party entrance.
TerenceG
KY with Audrey
FA and Damien
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Attempt to purchase tickets #2
Went past The Pavilion again and there was still a huge crowd waiting to purchase tickets. The printed sheets of ‘Tickets Sold Out’ did not deter them. Got lost from J and then received a SMS from her. She had received an SMS from Maxis saying that the ticket booths were opened and she could purchase a ticket at a 20% discount.
To cut a long story short, we fiddled with our phones etc and it seemed that a lot of people around us had the same idea. So we struggled to ‘queue’ up again, this time was slightly worse – desperation makes you do weird things I guess.
Carol in the house, y0
Squashed like canned sardines we were; but at least now we managed to reach within 2 feet of the counter. During this time the ticket operators pulled the ’sold out’ act on us a couple of times; security guards screaming at people to stop pushing and line up, it was not very fun I tell you.
And someone just HAD to fart. Great, now we were smelly sardines.
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The Bitch
So I was busy fiddling with my phone while being pushed around, the pressure mostly from my left hand side. I cast a quick glance to my left and went back to my phone. Suddenly this girly voice snipped, “What are you looking at?”
I looked to my left again and there was this short malay chick in black with massive earrings glaring at me.
“I wasn’t looking at you.”
“Whatever, bitch.”
Eh so stunned I was that I couldn’t come up with a reply. Mostly because the attack was uncalled for and she WAS pushing.
Minutes later the bitch tried to get past Jaime who was in front of her. She had her hands in front of Jaime and was trying to squeeze and push through the very very packed crowd. J couldn’t take it anymore and said something to her in the effect of ‘could you take your hands back please’.
TB : “I like to put my hands wherever I want. We are in a queue.”
J : “Not when it is annoying me.”
TB : “I just want to put it here.”
J : “There is no space.” (J held the bitch’s hands and pushed it backwards towards her) “There, put it right in front of you and stop bothering me.”
TB : “I don’t care.”
At this point her boyfriend looked embarrased and mumbled softly, ‘Don’t lah’.
J : “Can you stop being a fucking bitch.”
TB : “No you are being the fucking bitch.”
J gave up here because it was just useless to argue with a child who parrots your words.
Next time listen to your boyfriend, BITCH!
(Yes, Jaime is much better than me at quarrelling. I am a freedom lover – ahem – she is my freedom fighter)
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Attempt to purchase tickets #3
The ’sold out’ card was in place yet again. We couldn’t take it anymore and decided to get out of the crowd, do something else at Genting. Then Duncan who was MIA during the second attempt reappeared and saw that tickets were being sold again. Fucking nutbusters I tell you.
They wouldn’t sell the tickets because the people wouldn’t line up. Fucking morons. Your lousy management failed to set up proper barriers and queue lines and enough security people to handle the situation. And selling tickets one by one? Fuckheads! Just sell the goddamn tickets and the people would GLADLY get out of there! What, you think we liked being crushed and have random hips gyrating against us? What kind of planning and prep is this? Fucking bitches I tell you.
But Duncan, J and Carol went back to line up with our phones – the other 4 of us could not take it anymore. Finally through Carol’s ’sweet nature’ that dazzled the shit out of the hot chick ticket operator she managed to get our tickets.
FINALLY!!!
Then…
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Entering the party
The entrance’s entrance’s entrance was at the First World’s Starbucks and it was as horrible as it looked. Unfortunately I do not have photos since I could not even put my hands into my bag to take out the camera. Some people were shouting abuse (yet again), the loudest and most significant was this Caucasian and his chick doing this war chant of ‘ZOUK SUCKS!’ over and over and over and over again.
I got separated from the rest; only Duncan was a few people in front of me. Finally they allowed people to go in again – very slowly… worse than the traffic jams in KL and PJ caused by bottleneck roads.
Then Duncan got in, I was squashed to the side and then through some really funny ah beng’s help managed to get in… walked through a long lane that led to the entrance’s entrance where I found Duncan. Then it was time for another human squash, our last for the night but most definitely the worst. And more and more people were coming in.
Bored
And very finally we got out of the entrance’s entrance and went through some more lanes to be stopped by a guard with a metal detector. He was telling the guy in front of us that he could not bring in his camera bla bla bla. When it was my time to be scanned, the detector beeped but he just let me in.
So much for security eh. I could have been a human bomb terrorist waiting to explode. But 8k+ people, I am just letting off steam
Finally at the entrance we showed our tickets and got in.
If it weren’t for the cool weather at Genting, I think a lot of people would have fainted from the ticket rush and the entrances.
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The Party
The fest was divided into three main areas – Ghetto Heaven for your RnB needs, Velvet Underground for soft house and latin and the main Zouk arena for the headying trance music. We managed to locate the others at the Zouk arena – just next to a set of very big very loud vibrating speakers.
I had no idea who was playing but the music was good (until Way Out West came in with progressive trance which I don’t really like).
And yes, when FA danced, time stood still.
I couldn’t take decent pix because my cam doesn’t really do well in dark places and my hands were trembling. Too bad.
There were 3 guys on stilts, two in red and one in black and they were dressed something like the Haradrim in Peter Jackson’s movie ROTK.
Again I couldn’t take a proper pix but that will have to do. Really cool they were though, with their costumes and moves.
Some of us went to the Ghetto Heaven, J and I had some food and then we just sat around. Out of the human massiveness we saw Jo and Jess.
At around 2 a.m. J was not feeling well so we left. Duncan drove all the way down, I was fast asleep but occasionally woke up to the slight jolts of the car as she made swift turns down the winding roads of Genting. I have become paranoid about cars taking corners, it’s true. Mostly I just envision the car crashing but that’s another story.
All in all the party itself was ok fun. Not bloody fantastic but far from shabby. I think we would have enjoyed it more if it weren’t for the exhausting rush for the tickets purchase. But as Duncan said, ’tis an experience.
Which NONE of us want to go through again.
everyday is a valentine’s day
This reminds me of something from my childhood.
Some years back my mom was a tad upset with me for not giving her anything for Mothers’ Day (she still gets upset with me now for various other reasons), not a card and not even a wish of Happy Mothers’ Day. She went into a fit and would not talk to me the entire day; trust me, it’s pretty bad if you live with your folks full time. But being the rebellious sulking teenager that I was, I shut myself in my room and refused to talk to her too, silently disdaining her shallow need to feel special on this over-commercialised theme day.
Easily the first reaction of someone who would grow up to become an arrogant over-bearing bitch (at times), I tell you.
Ten minutes in my solitary resentment, I began to feel pretty bad. After all I did forget the significance of the day. I proceeded to make an elaborate card for me mom with a whole paragraph explaining why I do not feel that one singled-out day would compensate her love and sacrifices, and that this whole Mothers’ Day business is over-rated and too commercialised, but Happy Mothers’ Day and I love you.
Very luckily I got away with it.
Lesson learnt #1 : Even if you do not celebrate theme days, it does not mean that others would think the same as you.
Lesson learnt #2 : Pieces of cardboard, crayons, colour pencils and bits of lacy stuff leftover from the Barbie-days lying around the house could bloody well save your life. And your pocket money.
If you talk about Chinese New Year and other cultural festivals, I can understand the need to purchase certain things related to the celebrations. But ’special’ theme days?
I have no doubt that manyx10000 people like me are baffled at why one needs to be reminded to appreciate another, especially if the person is constantly in our lives. And on one day too; never mind the other 364 days of office slavery and broken hearts and pools of salty tears and not so expensive roses and dinners.
And I bet that out of the many many many many people who think like me, more than half would succumb and go along with the whole love-ideas-for-purchase gimmick.
And from that off-hand figure, quite a few would do last-minute purchases, giving in to the shady red lights of emotional capitalism. Or the longing for physical love to follow.
It is worse if your partner readily expects you to give more than just a sincere love greeting and your bedroom skills. How thick-skinned can one get?
If your male partner needs one pitiful excuse of a February 14th to buy you something nice or treat you extra well, DUMP HIM.
If your female partner just sits around waiting for you to spend your $$ extravagantly on this day, FUCK HER AND BE DONE WITH IT!
Repeat after me :
EVERYDAY IS A VALENTINE’S DAY.
And…
Hallmark and Memory Lane only want one thing : money.
YOUR money.
That which is…
MY money.
Hold firm your resolve and chant :
I AM NOT A SUCKER!!!
Happy Valentine’s Day.
for
There comes a time when one must sit down in solitary and think long and hard about life’s direction.
Well, nothing unusual – I do this almost every other day.
My friends would barely lift an eyebrow, knowing that I have retreated into my own space, oblivious to much of the social scene around me. One of her moods again, they would say and duly leave me to my own devices, until I snap out of it by myself.
Often the thoughts of uncertainties terrify me to the extent of having to sleep with a night light switched on, for fear of what lurks beyond. Games of the mind no doubt; though I could imagine scenes so real that the feelings transpired linger for a long time, exorcised by the might of the sun, only to return when the pale moon beckons with her sad sad song. Sometimes when I am too far gone, I could hear them. So close, so real that the relief when I open my eyes to peer into darkness is almost too overwhelming for words. Nothingness can be gladness.
Too many demons running in circles playing hopscotch. One carries a hammer, one carries a telescope, one carries a sharp blade of grass, one carries a scepter and all of them needs Prozac. As far as demons go, all of them are most definitely selfish, seeking self-gain and self-respect the bizarre way, to the point of being absurd yet very much hurtful. Temporary help is only just that – temporary. The reason for the demons’ existence has yet to be understood. Nevertheless, there are too many demons and my glass is always half empty.
But what if daisies are meant to rule and roses take a graceful step back? An appealing thought but thoroughly unattainable. The rose has carved her mark in her own blood. In the end there will only be the red rose. Silently weeping she asked, is this blood for my fragile petals worth the anguish of the scarring thorns? Yet it has been done. Let the circus begins again.
Mark me, take me, tie me, ravage me.
Explore me, strip me, gaze at me, caress me.
Find me.
Find me.