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The Trashing - No pun intended

2007-04-16T13:25:00.000+07:00

Last Wednesday, my wife and I went to a small Establishment called O’Maolidhia’s Bar (it’s a hard word to pronounce, I know) to watch the United v Roma match. We’re not Irish but that’s the only place we could watch a soccer game. Adelaide is a predominantly cricket town and the only people here who watch soccer are either British or Asians. My wife is half-Chinese half Aussie so I guess that explains why’d she bother to join me all the way to the O Bar.

The pre-game atmosphere was really tense. Manchester United got its arse kicked on the first leg of the match. To make things worse, Gary Neville, Paul Scholes and Louis Saha missed the second match. There was a lot of expectation but given the latest match stats, it seemed kind of hard for united to win the match. To ease up the tension, we ordered some food at the bar: smoked ham, French fries, boiled eggs, Yorkie chocolate bar and two extra large Guiness. Not the ideal meal per any nutritionist standard, but who cares about idealism when two European football titans are about to clash?

Our pre-game admonition was proven wrong as United began to bombard the Roman defense. First goal seemed like a strike of luck, but after goal no.3 we knew that we were about to see some bloodbath…a story that we will pass on to our children and grandchildren.

The O’Maolidhia’s crowd was very lively and we had the chants just like what we might expect to listen at the Trafford’s End. One of my favorite chant goes like this (sing the words to the tunes of Glory, glory hallelujah)

Totti, Totti, what a helluva way to die
Totti, Totti, what a helluva way to die
Totti, Totti, what a helluva way to die
And he ain’t gonna score no more…

I definitely sung this song for a million times that night.

At the end of the match my wife was so drunk (as she made a promise to grab a pint after each goal - united scored 7 goals that night), I had to carry her on my shoulders and brought her to the taxi. Driving was out of the question. She was muttering gibberish all the way home and by the time we got home, the first I did is I tucked her to bed right away.

But just as I was about to go to bed myself, I heard this sound of rumble from her belly. Like the thunder in a tornado cloud that says YOU ARE TOTALLY FUCKED. Two seconds later she sprayed a shower of vomit four feet across the bed and suddenly there were bits of undigested Yorkie Bar all over the sheets.

The funny thing is that instead of getting that nauseous feeling when you see pukes, my mind went directly into the Field Manual of Happy Marriage. I did a mental search on the issue of throwing up in bed, but by the Testicles of Hercules, I had no such luck. The book dedicated an entire chapter to sexual dysfunction, child rearing and filling your tax return but it didn’t have anything to say about vomits.

I have this crazy ass theory that no matter how homophobic or misogynic a pirate can be, there’s always a combat medic inside of him waiting to come up. And did my crazy theory come to life that night. Instead of throwing tantrum (like I used to do whenever my nieces did it), I calmly pull her out of the “crime scene”, sat her on the nearby couch, and changed her out of her soiled clothes. Once I got it done, I handed her a bottle of water. I then replaced the soiled sheets with a new one and carried her back to the now-tidy bed.

I got this whole process done in less than 5 minutes.

What happened next is I just sat down next to her, expecting to see a second wave of puke attack. But times went on and nothing happened so I began to recall my rather sensational feat of arms. To tell you the truth, it was all instinctive.

About five minutes after the lull, I decided to get some sleep but as I was about to dim the lights, my wife reached up her fingers, tapped me in the shoulder and said, "thank ee, brohm." She looked so weak and tired and cranky she said it with a quivering, heartbreaking tone. And then then she fell asleep with such a comfortable sigh as if she knew that no matter what happened, a self-proclaimed pirate like me would take a good care of her.

HOLY SHIT, DO I EVER LOSE FAITH IN MARRIAGE.

Even Pirates have their own low-points

2007-02-27T09:36:00.000+07:00

I’ll have to make a confession here. 2003 was really a shitty year for me. It all started when I decided to save this girl’s ass from my close friends who were trying to cast a pelet spell on her. It was a heroic act from my perspective but from that of my friends’, it was high treason. In less than two hours since they figured who backstabbed them, I got myself degraded from THE pious Methodist into public enemy #1.

I took the initial brunt quite easily. I was born and raised a Methodist. I know what it's like to hang out with nasty people. But I was helpless in the long run. The class began to question my loyalty (not that I ever swore one). The crowd would disperse everytime I entered the classroom. I was the last pick in the draft. What's worse is that this girl didn't even bother to talk to me.

Then there was this physics teacher called Ramzah Ram. Everytime he entered the class, we'd get a pop quiz about GLBB or Hukum Newton. Fuck Newton! I don't care about a guy who's already been dead for more than 300 years, no matter how smart he was. I don't care about the acceleration and the mechanics of a speeding car. I want a speeding car to run over physics teachers. Anyway, the pop quiz became so frequent that eventually it just lost the surprise element. Now physics wouldn't be so bad had I have a friend to help me out. But as I said earlier, I was now the outcast.

Have I told y'all about AFI? I can tell at least 1000 wrongness about this show but my dad was all into this North Sumatran pride thing that instead of watching football, I had to spend most of my Saturady nights listening to *THAT* Feri asshole. Not that watching football would make my life easier. My favorite team, Manchester United, was having a losing streak back then. United had spent millions of hard cash at the transfer market but for what? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. They should have just spent that money on building an ass-kicking machine so the members of the team could stand in line to get their asses kicked. It would have done the same thing as letting them get their asses kicked against another team.

But the nastiest thing about the ordeal is that I was single. Now, every once and awhile some dipshits would appear on TV and say how cool it is to be single and enjoying life and all that crap. LIE. I was single for 17 years and there's nothing cute about it. If you consider sitting at the far end of KFc, eating combo 1 all by yourself is cool....maybe...

So yeah, as I said the word " shitty" can't even begin to describe my life back in 2003.
About 3000 kilometers from where I lived, there existed a girl by the name Meeka Elizabeth. I'm not at liberty to tell you how life was treating her at that point of time, but here's a picture that might help.

We didn't know each other back then. I didn't know that she even existed. Neither did she have the slightest clue about me. Back then my life revolved around depression. Her life was all about candles and Hello Kitty flip-flops. I had a Nokia 3210. She had braces. My biggest dream was to get into H.I UGM. Her biggest dream was...I don't know. But I'm sure I wasn't part of it.

I'm always intrigued by this idea. Two human beings who were both unaware of each other's existence, not knowing that someday in a most bizarre twist of fate would be united in the most unlikely place.

Anyway, back to my story. Isn't it amazing to see how much you can accomplish in 4 years. At the begining of 2004, I began to reclaimed my grounds (thanks to those free Kartu As free SMS). I became the first owner of AGT in the whole island. In 2005, I succesfully got out of that cursed walls of Highschool. And not only did I graduate with flying grades but I also literally pissed at the principal's office (as a final fuck-you gesture). And the coolest part about my graduation is that I was the only one who got out with a Purple Heart. If you look at my yearbook, I'm the only person who gets to wear an eye patch. And that eye patch was fairly earned in combat. I was destined to be a pirate.

And what an ass-kicking pirate have I become. Here's badass picture of myself being a pirate.

As for that petite girl in the picture above, she finally evolved into this striking beauty.

You may be thinking, what has become of my friends. Well, one of them is still cleaning up (and probably losing his hard-fought high school diploma as well) after that massive Batavian flood some weeks ago. The other guy who thought I was a traitor is now getting F's at med.school. I wouldn't be too surprised if ten years from now he gets his ass indicted for malpractice.

As for that ungrateful girl whose ass I saved from the fiery cauldron of hell...well, I haven't heard/spoken to her for years. But a friend once told me that she's now taking afternoon classes at law school and is trying to crash diet. Which is a useless activity to undertake, if you ask me...since everyone knows that law school graduates will turn into fat, disgusting slobs anyway.

So kids, my digression notwithstanding, you know what's the moral of this story -- if there is one? When life becomes a serial of shitty events, don't become a pussy and run away. Instead, look at him in the face, raise you middle finger and say, "FUCK YOU, BITCH!!!" And say that out loud. You'll find yourselves at ease in no time.

As much as I hate to end a post with a cliche but I have to say this: EVERY CLOUD REALLY HAS ITS SILVER LINING. Seriously. No matter how shitty life is, just hang tough for a while because eventually you'll bump into a beautiful, Southern Belle. Hell...at least it works that way for me.

An Explanation

2007-01-15T10:00:00.000+07:00

I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I figure the only way to eradicate stupidity from this country is by replacing Planned Parenthood with vasectomy. After all that’s been said and done by this generation, we really can’t afford to have another generation of morons. Indonesia is too great of a country to be run by a breed of idiots.

The other night I received a question from a friend in response to my eulogy at Prince Charming’s funeral. He asked me if Prince Charming was really dead. At first I didn’t bother to answer the question because I figured it was some kind of joke.

But earlier this morning another friend asked me if my middle name was really Constable. And for the first time it occurred to me that there were so many people out there who took my words on their literal meaning.

So to avoid further inquiries (and to vent my anger), I’m going to take this opportunity to explain myself. Right now I should be completing my 50-page paperwork on Intermediate Sonar Course, but I don’t want to take risk. I simply can’t sit here while there are so many stupid people out there.

Here’s the thing about the eulogy. It’s a metaphor. That’s my subtle way of saying that my glorious kicking ass-taking names days are now over and I’m scared shitless of leaving them behind but as much as I dread it, at the end I will have to accept it because being mortal man myself, I’m subject to the power of Times.

I could’ve used those words above but I didn’t. I love subtlety and you should’ve been wise enough to get my glaring point.

But you didn’t.

Which proves my initial theory that you, Sir, are a moron and are qualified to receive a vasectomy.

Anyway, this nasty ordeal was triggered by a random visit to a bookstore. Normally when I go to a bookstore, my feet would instinctively lead me to the comic book or console game section. Or when the opportunity arises, to the adult magazine section.

But last week, my feet decided to do something highly unconventional. They lead me to the maternity section. I honest to God didn’t plan anything about it, but suddenly I found myself surrounded by books, which had pictures of breastfeeding mothers on them.

The scariest part of the ordeal was that I actually read those books. I even went to the point of taking notes of things that I thought would be crucial for a pregnant mom. The whole time I thinking, “I wonder if she knows about these stuff?”

Make no mistake about it. It’s not like I suddenly dread the whole thing. In fact I feel really honored to know that someone actually looks beyond my monstrous outward appearance and my dirty mouth and see my inner virtue (whatever they are). If you are raised on a Christian family, you’ll know how much of an honor it is to be dubbed a godparent. I think that’s the highest form of trust you can ever endow to another person.

But as much as I feel honored, I can’t hide the fact that in a way, it really makes me realize that a certain phase of my life is over. A life – one like mine – has emerged and now it will be my responsibility to make sure she doesn’t stray off.My goddaughter.

Replace the word “my” with your name and you’ll know what I mean. Isn’t it funny that these two words can bring both joy and fright at the same time?

And when I read the last few entries in my journal, the outcome is even scarier. Words such as work, job-interview, bills, paycheck, tenants and deadline are now all over it.Two years ago – just two years ago – my greatest concern was that my mom would buy me the wrong game CD. Now my greatest concern is that I won’t be able to pay my bills in time.

Sure I can still go to a gaming store but this time the games would be better for my kid, or else people would call me childish. I can still sulk and make people cook my food and do my laundry, but this time I better not do it to my mom.

That’s what I mean by losing my privileges.

If you wonder why I take so much pain to explain this for over and over again, the reason is because I love life. My blog would probably say the otherwise. My choice of words (eradicate, vasectomy, pure breed, stupidity, embrace genocide) might signify me as a bitter and hate-filled man, but in reality I’m an ordinary guy who just couldn’t be more grateful for what he has.

I love my parents although they are divorced. At least they still have the sensibility to call me every once in a while and provide me with some financial aid when I’m in need. I love my sisters although at times they can be such a major nuisance. I love my computer although he tends to crash at the most inappropriate times. I love religion although it can be really stupid sometimes. I mean, where else can I get an unlimited source of divine comedy? I love my job although the pay is equivalent to a slave’s. I love my old regiment although it never won any futsal match.

I love all these things and by God, I do not wish to say goodbye to them.

But eventually I will have to do so.

Home life

2007-01-08T12:44:00.000+07:00

It hasn’t been a week since New Year but I already have two difficult questions that trouble my mind. Where the hell is that goddamn plane? Last year we spent at least 2 billion IDR on our national defense budget, but we still can’t have a radar that works? WTF?

Yes, the "WTF" above is my second question. See, it has a question mark, which indicates that the three-letter abbreviation is indeed, a question.

Here’s a news from the home front. My morally correct uncle spent Christmas with us in Adelaide. Although we were only together for a short span of time (as he later went to Brisbane to celebrate new year), we did have some long conversation.

As I had predicted earlier, he tried to convince me that it’s wrong for me to share quarters with my gal while we’re not married. The conversation got nowhere as the same points were being repeated, only with different words. He made his point but I don’t think I should listen to it. We’re in love. We’re both of consenting age. We both have a job and we pay for the rent ourselves.

Seeing that we couldn’t reach an agreement, my uncle then asked me, "So this girl, what is she like?"

Now isn’t this strange that the last thing you want to know about a person is THE person itself? Back home, we have the concept of bibit-bebet-bobot. My uncle wasn’t born into a feudal society, but I have every reason to belief that he (and most people of his generation) has got himself so dragged into this outlandish mindset.

What’s her ethnicity? (For him ethnicity comes before nationality). What kind of church does she attend? Is she one of those Pentecostals? Where does her parents work? How much do they earn? How much does she earn? What’s her political alignment?

I have no interest for these external things. Let’s just say I have reached the limits of where trivial facts can lead me. After all, it’s neither her conviction nor her size that got me into her in the first place. Except for eyes, maybe. Now those are killers.

What a girl is like stems from her character. And here’s where I find something interesting about her.

I have come to realize that in spite of all the differences in terms of outward appearance, there are only two kinds of girls in this world. The first kind is girls that will make guys do destructive things, such as waging war at impossible odds, inciting a rebellion when the economy is perfectly balanced and building 1000 candi overnight.

Throughout history we have met so many women from this particular group. Queen Jezebel, Helen of Troy, Dayang Sumbi, Ken Dedes, Elizabeth Taylor, my old high school crush (who successfully turned me into a suicidal right-back) and that redhead slut whose identity I prefer not to disclose.

But on the other hand, we have girls that make guys feel…umm…domesticated. My girl falls into this category.

What is she like? She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to stay indoors although the Mancunian Derby is on, and everyone knows I should be chanting gibberish and winning 15 dollars at Rydell’s Tavern.

She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to spend all Sunday making cornbread. She’s the kind of girl that enables me to endure a 3 hours Veronica Mars marathon on DVD. She’s the kind of girl that helps me re-appreciate the value of spending two consecutive hours at Snakes and Ladders. She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to just sit in the couch with her, looking at old albums from the 90s, even though everyone agrees that those times could be better spent somewhere else.

I should’ve been at work. I should’ve taken extra classes to improve my grades. I should’ve gone to Rydell’s and win some easy money. I should’ve written boring letters to my folks. But instead of doing those, I spend most of my time watching rented movies with my baby. I didn’t get all my chores done but there’s never been a single second of regret in my life. My time with her is pretty much well wasted.

That’s what she is like.

Mother's day? Sounds more like Morons Day Out to me.

2006-12-22T11:50:00.000+07:00

This is how the women in my hometown celebrate mother’s day.

While women from various part of the world took a day break from all their menial chores, women in my hometown decided to march to the Mayor’s office and support polygamy. Now, I'd say those women were lucky I was stuck with my bullshit job in Adelaide when this stupidity transpired, because had I been home, I'd machine-gun every last one of them.

I guess I’m old enough to remember the days when women were powerful creatures, not merely a brainless piece of curvy meat.

Take my Ma for example. She doesn’t have the quality of Helen of Troy. She doesn’t launch a thousand ships, start a war or incite a rebellion. But she has a superb psychological power. She can make me go to church or do the dishes simply by staring at me.

And instead of bitching at things, she gets them done.

But I guess my mom is a rare and almost extinct breed. I mean, when you look around these days jobs that are traditionally viewed as woman’s job are now done (and mastered) by men. You know there’s something wrong with womanhood when the best cook, hairdresser and fashion designers are men.

And hence we are doomed with this quagmire. Since women can no longer do the simplest task such as disciplining their own children, the government has to take every “unacceptable” thing off the TV. Since women can no longer keep their husbands indoors, this country is going to start promoting polygamy.

But the biggest joke of all was that they said God himself permitted polygamy. Man, if I could get a dollar for every stupidity that is masqueraded as god’s will, I’d be as rich as god.

As it is necessary to affix the right ideas into words, I’m going to ask a simple question: who says polygamy is actually God’s will? I’m not going to offend people by naming names, but you get the idea.

Now just for the sake of honesty, we don’t have any external evidence for believing that as the word of God, other than the man’s saying. He said that it was revealed into him. How do we know it was revealed to him? By the saying of other people who heard it from other people who heard it from other people who didn’t witness the event firsthand and were too dumb to ask for an evidence.

And we, the people of 21st century, have to take it blindly without asking questions or else we are going to suffer in hell for eternity.

It is hearsay upon hearsay and with that kind of logic, I can also say that I am God’s chosen one and this writing of mine is the Word of God himself that must be strictly obeyed.

Perhaps your numskullery have prevented you from understanding my point, so let me re-phrase it.

Have we become so insecure with life that we have to live it by a set of outlandish rules that were composed by and common to nomadic men of the 7th century?

It’s your call, girls.

It's been A year

2006-12-19T12:09:00.000+07:00

Okay, first things first: I don’t die. That’s wonderful. I didn’t get hit by some drunk drivers on my way home, I didn’t get drowned at the pool and my food wasn’t poisonous. Today I can officially say, "You know what, I've been with her for a year now."

My gal was still asleep when I left for my bullshit work (and lord knows she is so pretty when she’s asleep) I left a card and a mixed CD of songs that she likes next to her pillow. I have been secretly working on this CD for a week and I really hope she likes it. The only time my boss allows me to use the phone is at lunch break so I guess I’ll have to wait for another two hours just to hear from her.

Here’s the serious part. Last night I got a rather discomforting phone call from my uncle Anton. Keep in mind that the whole conversation was really said in English. This uncle of mine is an English teacher and he never misses a chance to speak the language with me. Here’s how the conversation goes:

U: I heard that now you’re living with your girlfriend?

Me: No…not a girlfriend

U: What’s that?

Me: She’s not a girlfriend – she’s my fiancée. That’s one step up the hierarchy.

U: I see. How did that happen?

Me: She just finished school and she’s been thinking about pursuing a modeling career. In the mean time, we figured it’d be better if we could share some quarter and expenses as well. Why do you ask?

U: I talked to your dad and he said you two had been together for a while now…

Me: And?

U: And…I know this is not my business, but we’re still Indonesian, you know?

Me: What are you suggesting?

U: I suggest the two of you get married.

Have I changed that much? Have things changed that much? I remember the days when my life was all about Gunbound, the A-word, Frestea dingin, last night’s score and surat izin pulang. But at what point do “marriage”, “career” and “tax-return” become an integral part of the conversation? I remember the days when I could just call my mom from a friend’s house and say, “Ma, 'ntar sore aku terlambat pulang…mau main PS dulu.” But last week my excuse was, “Ma, natal ini aku ‘gak bisa pulang…kerjaan numpuk!!” Have I finally reached the age where “work” has become an acceptable excuse?

You decide.

Anyway, as much as I feel uncomfortable with this whole aging thing, I can’t deny the fact that I love to settle down. My grades and paychecks are pure bullshit, but when my baby is around, somehow this personal hell of mine is a lot more bearable.

Speaking of settling down, here’s a super sweet song that I also put on the mixed CD. As always, I’m forcing y’all imbeciles at gunpoint to download this song. Hit the download button, tools!!!

http://www.sendspace.com/file/fs9h1c

Stupidity just married the Law

2006-12-08T10:07:00.000+07:00

Now that we have successfully forced Lativi to cancel Smackdown, the real question we should all ask ourselves is, "WHY STOP THERE?"

Why stop there? We have stopped huge corporations like Playboy and WWE on their tracks. Our casualty rate is very low. We only got one dead, several injured kids and some burned tires. So why stop there? Who knows, maybe with these power we can do greater things?

Between now and another major sex scandal, it seems that the legislative has too much spare time. So why don’t we all pay them a visit and give them something to do? Why don’t we all march to Senayan and give them another law proposal?

How about a law that bans fat people from walking the streets? You may say, "But that’s a very insipid law? Do we really need a law for every thing?" Well guess what, fools! Laws are supposed to be insipid – at least the ones that come from DPR RI.

Besides, have I told you that fat people is very dangerous to public safety? Forget the half-measures of Smackdown. That’s for kids who can’t read subtitles. Forget Playboy magazine. That’s for men who can’t get a girl in real life. But fat people? It affects people at every level of society.

At least, it almost killed me the other day.

You see, I was driving a friend’s car when I saw this fat lady. To say this hideous creature a "lady" is really a crime against humanity and is punishable by death. But I’m stuck with that word because obviously the dictionary still can’t tell the difference between Keira Knightley and Pretty Asmara.

So yeah…I was driving slow and easy when they hideous monster suddenly appeared out of nowhere right in front of my windshield. The sight was so unbearable I had to cover my eyes with both my hands. I almost died out of fright. Death would be good for me because then I’d turn into a ghost and haunt this fat bitch. But instead of that, I drove my friend’s car into a curb and I almost crashed the nearby bystanders.

It didn’t happen thanks to the car’s ABS. But think of it had it been gone the other way. Innocent people would’ve been killed. I would’ve been put to jail and served for a life-sentence. My friend’s car would’ve been impounded. All these just because we allow such a distraction as fat people to walk the streets. I’m lucky it didn’t happen. But I’m sure that in many parts of the world, people just don’t have my luck. I’m sure every time a road kill happens, a fat person is involved. It just goes by default.

While we are still there, have I mentioned that fat people is equally dangerous for our mentality? I mean, what’s so cool about fat? Every now and then I see fat people on TV who say they love to be fat, that big is beautiful and all that shit. No, you dumbfucks! If big is beautiful, slimming Tea and fitness center would be out of business. Positive thinking is a pile of disgusting horse shit taken straight from Donald Trump’s ass. Thinking that you’re beautiful does NOT make you beautiful.

Oh and by the way, please!!! What is it between fat people and tank-tops? There is a reason tank-tops don’t have XL size and that is so YOU DON’T WEAR THEM. Jeez, I can’t believe people are this stupid.

So, what do say, folks? Do we really want our loved ones and TV screens to be endangered by these fat people? It’s about damn time to march to Senayan.

Finally, I can’t end this post without addressing stupidity that has seemed to be an inseparable part of this country. It seems to me that I can’t live a day and watch my TV without seeing another major outbreak of stupidity. Just when I thought it’s safe to play outside now that the whole anti-Bush thing was over, came anti-Smackdown.

Am I the only person who pays attention to the demographic issue here? When I see the parents of the Smackdown victims, it seems to me that they all come from the Ibu Rumah Tangga demographic section. They say they can’t accompany their children when they watch TV. So what the fuck can they do? They live in rural areas and their daytime activity is gossiping. Life is practically over for them once the clock hits 6 PM. But they still can’t take care of their own children?

You can’t make your kids go to bed by 10 PM? You can’t take the TV’s remote from a 9-year-old kid and you still have the guts to call yourself a parent?

And since these moronic parents can’t take care of their own kids, can’t supervise and can’t teach the difference between right and wrong, all this country can do is pass a law for every thing objectionable. Like that fat people thing I mentioned above.

I worked for the Nazi propaganda Minister in the previous life

2006-12-04T11:46:00.000+07:00

Two days ago my friend asked me to write about HIV. I have always considered myself as a politically correct person, but now I’m going to release my inner bigot. You want my opinions on HIV? Well I hope they all die and burn in hell for eternity.

No, I don’t feel any remorse for them. Why should I? As much as I hate terrorist, I can understand their action. They are frustrated. Their religion doesn’t allow them to talk with females. And blowing stuff is exactly what every guy will do if he can’t talk to a girl.

But these people with HIV? It’s not like they are dumb. They are in college. They live in major cities. They have the media. Hell…they control the media. And they were fully aware when they had their unprotected gay sex. Well guess what tools!!! Even dog shit like Ihsan is not free. Did you really think you could fuck your way around and still get away with it?

The Old Testament in the Bible is full of nonsical tales but I have to agree with one part of it. That’s the part when God sends the fiery furnace of hell right into the town square of Sodom. Man, God couldn’t have done it any better. I can imagine Michael the Archangel shouting, “give ‘em hell, boys!!!” I can see Gabriel reloading his flamethrower. That’s the most awesome part of the Bible.

I had quite a similar experience the other day. I was at work, minding my own business when this guy stepped up to me. Just by looking at his appearance I could tell he’s one of them and that he had at least one battalion of that damn disease between his legs. And he was smirking at me. What’s with smirk? What’s so strange about a 20 year old Indonesian male doing a crosswood puzzle? For you people who don’t know what it’s like to see a gay smirk, well just check out the movie Philadelphia.

And he was smirking at me and he was probably tring to compose some gross pick up line. You see, there are some slutty girls down at the Union and when they try to flirt with me, I’d just show them my engagement ring and they’d just back off. But this gay dude… So then instead of waiting for the gross sequence to commence, I decided to pick up my Mossberg shotgun (which I happened to keep under the cash regeister) and shot him in the chest. Hah…how’d you like that, fucker?

My patrons didn’t even bother to call the police or ambulance because hey, I just did them a great favor. Tonight they all can sleep well, knowing that they have one less ODHA to worry about.

But then the guy that I shot dead is just one man. There are more of these people lurking around your neighbourhood. They are probably stalking at you right now. They are probably grabbing and wanking at your Myspace pictures. There were at least one million of them bitching about getting disriminated on TV during AIDS day. What the fuck? Since when does their opinion matter? Who gave them the right to bitch on TV? What have they done for society that makes them eligible to have their own special day?

Maybe Hitler was an evil man, but he made a good point when he said some people were just sub-human when compared to others.

Besides the obvious point that these ODHA are simply sub-human, HIV sure doesn’t need wrist band, ribbon or flavored condom. HIV needs a solution.

Which I happen to have at my disposal, by the way. Instead of spending millions of dollars in research for a medicine that will never exist, why don’t we just re-establish Auschwitz and send these HIV people there? It’s cheap, effective and permanent. As for the million dollars, we might as well use it to open a worth-visiting mall in every single town in this country. Kids can enjoy themselves and parents don’t need to worry because all the HIV people are officialy gone.

It may sound harsh for y’all politically correct people but just think of it as an investment for the future. Ten years from now when the only disease left on planet Earth is influenza, you will all thank me. You will send a letter to the pope and recommend my name as a new saint. And I’m not even a catholic. But then Vatican will approve your request and you’ll have monuments of St. Maurits on your town squraes. There will be statues of me wearing a blue plaid shirt, grey jeans and a shotgun on my right hand. Girls will come from all around the world just to propose me, but I’ll have to politely refuse their proposals because you see, I ain’t marrying anyone but that beautiful Meeka Elizabeth Galetti.

So what do you say, folks? We can either sit here watching these gay people spread their disease or we can take an immediate action against them. It’s your choice now.

If these products were people, I'd embrace their genocide

2006-11-24T10:39:00.000+07:00

These are a collection of products that really piss me off.

1. Play Station 2.
Earlier 2002, my dad promised me he’d buy me a PS2 if I could make it to SMAN 1 (that being the bestest, fightingest crack regiment in the whole island) PS2 was kind of a novelty for us kids back then so I study hard. No. What I really did was I cheated on all my year 9 exams.

I made it to SMAN 1 and claimed my prize. I remember marching to Spica Club looking as happy as Christmas. Even better, the retail owner offered me 25 complimentary game CDs of my choice. But when i got home none of the 25 CDs were playable because apparently Sony had this shitty optical drive which couldn't read the game CDs. What's worse is that I had to pay another 200k to fix the misaligned laser optic.

I'm still bitter over that. The other night I went to Northern Terrace and there were these kids talking and giggling and thinking about how awesome it was to pre-order PS3. Well, they didn't think it was a cute idea anymore after I chased them with a shovel.

2. Akira DVD Player
About one week before moving to Adelaide, I went for a shopping spree at Hypermart. I wasn’t really planning on getting a DVD player but I saw this player which cost only 300k. That was too much of a temptation. So I bought it and had a 3 hour Simpson’s marathon.The next day, I was going to watch another episode of Veronica Mars but I got a message which says "NO DISC." No disc my ass! I just put one myself. Who is this asshole to think he is smarter than me? But that was it. I kept getting the same "NO DISC" message on my TV screen. I guessed it had a similar problem with my PS2 – optical error.

So I went to the service center with the intention to wreck the place into pieces. But just as I was waiting for the customer service girl to finish her phone conversation, a Chinese man came up to me (he was a costumer too) and said, "kenapa bang? No Disc juga ya?"Holy crap, so it wasn’t just me.

It’s a very relieving thought but I still wanted to wreck whoever it was behind Akira’s production system. Luckily, the customer service lady said I’d get a free warranty for this one.

3. War of The Worlds.
Okay, so Tom Cruise is Satan. I should’ve known. But apparently I was too naïve to realize this back in 2005. I saw this movie trailer about WoTW and there were all these favorite things of mine: aliens, explosion, Humvees, Abrams tanks, rocket launcher, exploding aliens,etc…But when I finally saw it…man, that was just the gayest 25k I ever spent in my entire life. It was Tom running around the house with his cry-bitchy baby girl. And there wasn’t any cohesion in the movie either. How is it that the THX trailer had more sense than the movie?

4. Religious sinetron with voice-overs and poorly produced animated snakes.
You know those crap they have in Indosiar? Words just can’t explain my contempt for this genre.

5. 0% Beer.
Let beer be beer. First there was Ice beer. Then "Dry" beer. Then Low-Carb beer. Now there’s a new one: zero percent alcohol beer. If you don’t have the balls to take some alcohol, then go drink orange juice. But please, don’t repack your garbage and call it "beer."It’s very simple. If it’s got alcohol, call it beer. If it doesn’t, don’t! If my mother’s sibling has tits, call her "auntie" I can’t believe I have to be this graphic.

6. Indonesian Idol.
The next person who says Dirly is talented will get my sledgehammer in their testicles.

7. Ouval T-shirts.
I never had anything against people from west Java but this brand changed my mind.

8. James Morrison debut CD.
I was talking to my sister about two weeks ago and she kept saying, "check out James Morrison new CD. He’s good looking and he plays the guitar too…" blahblahyaddayaddawalalala…all those jibberish you’d expect to hear from your teenage sister.

But then John Mayer endorsed Morrison on his website. John said Morrison’s CD could be one of this years’ best. Normally I got my music freely from Kaskus but since Mayer endorse him, I thought it was good. And I don’t steal good music. So I went and bought the actual CD. But when I finally gave it a listen, it was like listening to Jack Johnson a couple of years ago. All the songs sound trashy and similar and some 45 minutes later, I was like "It’s song # 9 already? What the fuck! I can’t tell any difference."

I just wanted a good music not an eternal damnation in hell. Is it too much of a request?

9. D’Addario strings.
Here’s a reason to love your mom. So my mom bought me these guitar strings for my 17th birthday. I don’t know how my mom knew about these strings. I was too overjoyed to ask. But I was just halfway through my favorite song when I got two string breaks. Fuck!

What I really hate is the fact the branded corporation can actually sell these shitty products. I wouldn’t mind if a Chinese scooter break. Hell, that’s Chinese, what did I expect. But I’m talking about Hollywood, Sony and all those corporate giants. If you can’t trust them, who else is left to be trust?

2,286,952 shitty products were excluded from this list in the interest of stabilizing my blood pressure.

Behold, a secret has been unraveled!!!

2006-11-23T12:18:00.000+07:00

I was at my working place the other day, minding my own business and enjoying the serenity of a November evening. My patrons were being gay and spendthrift as they always were.

So anyway, I was doing crossword puzzle and suddenly a thought came across my head…"holy crap, I love my fiancée."

Seriously, as much as this sounds crazy it is true in so many ways. Isn’t it strange that these days the last thing you love in the person is the person herself? I remember talking about how cute her accent is, how her cornbread could kick the living shit out of Subway, how she beats me at scrabble, etc – but sometimes you've had enough before you even make it to the one person that all those other trivial stuff were meant to cater to...

Sometimes you could miss the point of falling in love.So then I looked at her picture which I kept close to the register machine and I stood corrected. I love her. First and foremost.

I was thinking about writing another three hundred paragraphs about her, but then I figured I’d leave you with this picture.

You got my point. I know you do. She’s beautiful.

Note to reader: please, please, please ignore that hideous girl on her right. She’s a zombie who keeps showing no matter what.

Nutrition Guide: Several Things You Need To Know Before Consuming George Bush

2006-11-18T09:10:00.000+07:00

Okay, okay…please, there’s no need to holler. We ain’t blind or deaf. We can hear you loud and clear. There’s no need to burn more tires. You’re not doing any harm to George Bush. He’s still in playing gamelan in Singapore. You’re being a major nuisance to the garbage collector.

We get your point. You hate Bush. We all do. We’re in the same boat here. You hate him because he roots out wife-beating Taliban outta Afghanistan. I hate him because he’s so stupid he actually thinks global warming is good for jogging.

You’re going to fight him? That’s cool. So far we only got Vietnam in the repertoire. You know, we could use some change here. Maybe we could even make a movie of you fighting the US. We’re kind of fed up with Rambo. And while we’re still there, how are you going to fight the Yanks? With nothing? That’s even better. Who needs plan, anyway? They didn’t have any tactical genius back in 1945, did they?

Since the only Americans in this country are those balding, over-weighted English teachers, why don’t you go fight where there are heaps of ‘em? Go to Iraq or Afghanistan. But please, don’t use the airplane. You hate anything American, remember? Didn’t you call her the Great Dajjal? Why stop at the half-measures of Coke and McDonalds? Last time I checked, the aircraft was made by Boeing and the fuel was produced by Caltex.

Use camel instead. It’s so Quran-like, environmentally safe and highly unhypocrite.

You can go now. Do the Jihad. Fight the infidels and earn your one-way ticket to heaven.

But please, don’t take this country with you. Don’t say, “if North Korea, Iran, Venezuela and Vietnam have the guts to fight America, why don’t this country do the same?” I tell you what, they don’t have any good TV channel in North Korea. Or good sex. I think it’s sex. You see, when grown-up folks don’t get sex, they tend to act irrationally. Just like what’s happening in Iraq.

No, seriously…I mean, isn’t inadequate sex is the reason people blow themselves in the first place? You can’t a girl in planet Earth – even if you do, she’s covered with multiple layers of clothing you can only see her eyeballs. And somehow if you blow yourselves in public places, god will give you 72 virgins in heaven.

Wow, aside from my astonishment of this twisted logic, I didn’t even know spiritual being could fuck.

But I tell you what, not everyone shares your misfortune. Maybe you’re poor, ugly and earn a bad salary. Maybe you’re just being insecure. Maybe nothing good ever happens to you. But this country is NOT you. We are NOT you. No one is like you. Well, maybe that hideous fella next to you has the same mental issues with you, but you guys are a tiny fraction of this country. And in this country we have better concerns than you getting 72 virgins in the after life.

Just in case you ain’t noticed, I have a perfectly beautiful girlfriend. And I want to raise a family with her. I want to make babies and raise all kinds of hell when they disobey my redneck wisdom. I want to buy the next John Mayer CD. I want to see the next sequel of Pirates. I want to visit my 10-year reunion and make fun of my single friends. I have all these things carefully laid-out so please mister, don’t screw with it. Go screw the Americans but don’t do it here.

Maybe you’ve been watching too much Mahabharatta. But this is life on earth we’re talking about…not some heroic bullshit you have in your mind. The real deal is not whether you’re brave or not. It’s whether you’re alive or not. Now, I don’t care what your cleric says about death. He needs to drop his books and go see some hospital. Death ain’t anywhere near pretty.

You see, this has been a long post and I was about to hit the “publish post” button and go swimming but you morons are being so damn loud, I couldn’t help but to see some of your stupid points.

1. You think Bush hates Islam? No, he hates the terrorist. It’s just that the terrorists love to scream allahu akbar before they blow themselves. If you don’t want any prejudice, tell them to drop the religious attributes. Tell them to stop using the J-word excessively when all they can kill are tourists. That way, when some shit happens, we won’t blame you anymore. We’ll blame the communists. Just like what we did in the 60s.

2. You think “pengamanan Bush terlalu berlebihan”? Guess what, morons? Your currency fucked up real bad. I had Rp. 50.000 one time but in Singapore I could only get one pack of smoke with that kind of money. Just one goddamn pack. And as for the security, of course Bush needs a lot of security. We’re talking about Indonesia, remember? What would you do if you travel to a country where an average high school graduate could make a high-explosive bomb?

3. Amien Rais says Bush should be given fried rice and sent home? Please, Mr. Amien…I know you mean well. I know you stand for “wong cilik”. But I also know you’re still bitter for that 2004 election. And that’s all right…I know it sucks to loose a presidential race. But sir, just for the sake of fairness, please keep your political rhetoric for yourselves. At least until the next election. I believe doing your presidential campaign at this point of time is unlawful, isn’t it sir?

4. George Bush = Hitler.
Come on, what does it take for this country to realize that there’s only one Hitler? You can’t call anyone you hate, Hitler. First of all, my high school principal banned short skirts and cancelled the prom and everyone started to call her Hitler. Then Saddam was Hitler. Now Bush?

Read you Erlangga history books, folks! They are quite clear regarding this issue. There’s only one Hitler and his front name is Adolf. And he’s been dead for more than 60 years. By god, lets not bring him back to life.

I know you’re desperate and you’re running out of rational argument, you have to call a Texan cowboy “Hitler”. That’s an insult. Not to Bush but to the great Fuhrer himself. For one thing, Hitler was a frontline veteran. He was actually wounded in the WWI. His concept of Blitzkrieg worked. On the other hand, George Bush…he’s a stay-at-home soldier when most of his countrymen were dying in Vietnam. And his concept of Shock and Awe doesn’t work. He’s still bogged down in Iraq after 3 years.

You can't make a reasoned argument against a fact based on the most outlandish possible hypothetical counter-example you just pulled out of your ass. This is called the Fallacy of Accident. A twist on the old dicto simpliciter ad dictum secundum quid. Geez, don't anybody in this country ever take a debating class?

I finally get a job

2006-11-13T10:19:00.000+07:00

Here’s the ultimate question: what will a man do once he finds the lady that he knows he’s going to love for the rest of his life. Of course, unless he has the checkbook of Paris Hilton, he will eventually get into those physically demanding, low-paying bullshit jobs. That’s just an inevitable part of growing up, I guess.

And it finally happens to me. After some serious consideration I finally land a job at a place called Eros Café in Adelaide. It's a mediterannian eating place. There are several things that I had in mind. First of all is because I have no class until the next term and I sure as hell won’t go back home. Marine Observers don’t go home until they get their objectives done.

Another thing is because I’ve been having too much idle time lately.In spite of its enormous size, Adelaide is actually quite a conservative city with almost nothing do since most places except some restaurants shut after 5 PM. Lord knows why after 20 years of existence I’m still stuck with conservative living holes. Seriously, in the past few months my concept of entertainment has been evolving around nothing but Simpson’s reruns, X-box and jibberish talk with my baby.

So yeah, I figured I could use some job to keep my brain cells working. Here are some pictures of my work place, anyway. It’s located at Rundle Street, the center of activities in Adelaide.

It’s quite a good place and it has a European atmosphere. It reminds me to Kesawan Square in so many ways.

Financially speaking, this is a terrible setback for me because back in Indonesia I used to teach English to a group of high school kids and I literally earned a 7 digit income. At one point I even managed to buy my mom a fine piece of china using my own money. But here…well, at least this is a cool place I’m working at.

If you read this (whether you’re Indonesian or Australian) and you’re planning to drop by at our café, don’t hesitate to do so. We have a special breakfast menu which you can get for just 2.50 dollars.

Anyway, here are several things that you should remember when you visit our café.

1. I’m an Indonesian, which means you should drop the southern drawl and take your order in a proper English.

2. I DON’T solicit gay sex.

3. I’d really expect some tip.

Another breaking news: my gf says she’ll take up some modeling audition starting next year. The funny thing is that I normally consider model as the lowest creature ever to grace god’s wonderful kingdom. But when it comes to her, I just approve it without asking questions. Matter of fact, I encourage her. Talk about double standard.

Some addition

2006-11-03T10:08:00.000+07:00

One thing that I forgot to mention on yesterday’s post. For some reason the girls thought it would be a good thing to wear high heels to the show. Maybe it was because of the venue or maybe it’s the seatings…I don’t know. But my girl was actually making a phone call at the front lounge when the show kicked off. And I gotta tell y’all folks the worst thing in the world is running around Palais Theatre wearing heels while hearing the first guitar riffs of Belief. The whole time she kept saying, “wait up…can’t run with these things.”

Lesson learned: Never ever ever wear high heels (or go with a person who wears high heels) to a music show.

Anyway, I figured I’d put a video of Heart of Life here. It’s good and its only 7 MB. You better download it.

Heart of Life video

Finally, some more pictures thanks to my friend Leigh. These are taken from the D-row. Kind of shaky hands but definitely are better than my yesterday’s pics. Enjoy.

Mayer Show (photos and downloads included)

2006-11-02T11:47:00.000+07:00

Here’s a brief-review of last night’s show.We arrived early and we hung out at the lounge for quite awhile. I talked to some other kids at the lounge and it really surprised me to know that some of them were actually hoping for YBIAW to appear at the setlist.

I’m not saying that I hate YBIAW. It’s a good one, especially if you have the opportunity to hear the earlier version of it. Circa 2001 when it was only John and David LaBruyerre. But somehow Columbia took over and turned it into a porno song. I guess that’s why John doesn’t play that song on a regular basis anymore.

Anyway, here’s the set-list in quite a random order. I’m too ecstatic to remember the correct order.

Belief
Vultures
Good love is on the way
Gravity
Daughters
Why Georgia
Bigger Than My Body
Waiting Heart Of Life
No Such Thing
Dreaming With A Broken heart
Slow Dancing In a Burning Room
In Repair

It’s a good thing that Why Georgia made it to the show.

Good Love is on The Way was a perfect killer. The whole time I was thinking…“last year when that song first came out, I was a total washed-out. But the song really gave some hope and in less than 2 months after that song, I started to go out with Meeka.” So yeah…if you’re single and miserable and feel like suicidal, just listen to that song. GOOD LOVE IS REALLY ON THE WAY.

John also added The Eraser outro in Slow Dancing. Why Georgia, Waiting on the World to Change and Daughters turned into complete sing-alongs. I don't think anyone missed a lyric.

Speaking of outro, some one threw a teddy bear on stage as they were heading off before the encore, and when John came back he had tied it to the end of his scarf.

Never mind the blurry picture. It’s taken by a Bigfoot. And he sometimes forgets to turn the flash on.

Some random addition: John did a little interview with the radio prior to the show. There were some questions about ARIA and John’s australian favorite artist. Then for some stupid reason the DJ asked him about Greys Anatomy (it was the season final last night and all of the radio stations were talking about it). John said he downloaded it to watch on the plane and wanted to upload it back because he didn’t like it. Ha..a typical JM comedy.

They aslo talked about The Heart of Life and John asked if it should be the next single and there was a definite yes from all involved. I haven’t told this to my dad but i’m sure he’ll go crazy when I break it for him, because Heart of Life is definetely his JM (only) favorite song. Here’s a recording of last night’s Heart of Life. Really, you should download this.

There are more live recordings of last night show and some pictures. that means audio conversions and photo-resizing. But right now I’m packing my bags and getting ready to head back for Adelaide. I’ll post ‘em after I get back home.

Finally, I’d like to make some thank-you’s to all parties involved. The Local 83 Listener Union members who made our 80 dollars worth the trip. Thanks for the club invitation. Thanks to the bloke who made the live recording possible. Thanks to Chris Donovan for helping me with the camera and lending his laptop.

And least but not least...to the big guy himself: JOHN CLAYTON MAYER. Thanks for dropping at the neck of my woods.

Melbourne Madness Part 3: The Uncensored Outtake

2006-11-02T11:43:00.000+07:00

We don’t normally do these things in Adelaide. But when a bunch of alcohol-fueled Mayer fans congregate, the sense normalcy just goes right into the drain.

My friend Dom Velasquez (who also happens to be my classmate and bandmate), for some reason unbeknownst to me, decided to leave his common sense and wore the outfit of the fairer sex. On the other words, he cross-dresses.

Yeah, Melbourne really brings the worst out of people.

Here’s how Dom looks like when he is normal. You can actually tell that he has the tendency simply by looking at his facial expression.

And this is my sister, half-drunk after a Mayer show.

But there are people who keep their manner. In this case, it’s Britta, the Viking Dutchess. Smiling for the camera prior to a Mayer show.

Hooking up with some random bloke AFTER the show.

We all went to a drinking establishment after the show, and I found this interesting picture. Smoking kills. Drinking heals. Ironic? You decide.

Sumpah Pemuda & Recent Development of Nationwide Stupidty

2006-11-01T12:59:00.000+07:00

Some title, huh?

If you're one of those people who are easily offended by my political writings, you can skip this entry and just check out the 2nd part of Melbourne Madness.

You decided to stay? Good. Brace yourselves for some incoherent ramblings.

Apparently I was wrong about nothing really happened on Sumpah Pemuda. Something DID happen at the veep's office. A certain clown who goes by the name Jusuf Kalla remembered to check out his calender and decided to call for a celebration. Last minute decision.

By now you probably are all too familiar with the story. JK decided to throw away some framed papers which he called "Award". And the recipients were...sweet merciful Jesus...you can tell this was a last minute decision simply by looking at its recipients. It got me thinking, who's really in charge of the PR department at the vice president's office? Barney the Dinosaur?

I mean seriously, I went to Aceh some time ago with the Lion's Club (my dad is a member) and there were thousands of young people who actually took temporary breaks from their college just to help those unfortunate Acehnese. While the goverment were still bitching about admnistrative issues, these young people were doing all the hardwork at the frontline. They pulled out the decomposing, dead bodies with nothing but their bare hands.

And that's just Aceh...a small part of Indonesia. Remember the Merapi crisis and the quakes that subsequently follows? Remember the guys that got buried alive on their observation bunker? Last time I checked, they weren't some uniformed bureaucratic assholes from Pemda Jogja.

Do I have to point out who's the real hero here?

But apparently JK didn't share my mindset as he decided to hand the awards to Cokelat, that guy from SO7 and Ungu.

Perhaps someone is way to drunk with power he simply loses track with the concept of time. Bendera...how long has that shit been around? How long has that shit been making sudden appearance outta Hades during independence day?

But if you think handing an award to an old song is lame, you're wrong. Word has it that Ungu couldn't make it to the reception ceremony because they were wearing, umm....jeans.

Yet another random issue that gets totally blown out of proportion? But what did I expect? This is Indonesia.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but Ungu's songs fall into the "rohani" category, right? Which means they're not just singing it to human but to The Creator. And I bet at some point they wore jeans during their performance. Nothing happens. Allah didn't strike 'em because they were wearing jeans.

But they got turned down by this peci-wearing clown....this clown who actually begged for my votes back in 2004.

Y'all know what, folks? Lets just decide for once and all who is the REAL boss here. Just because he rides RI-2 and wears Batik Solo, it doesn't mean this asshole can have anything he wants. I don't owe Jusuf Kalla one. He owes me one. After all, it was our vote....our voice that gave him the right to ride in the RI-2.

This is DEMOCRACY, kids!!! And if you can't grasp the concept of it and want to spend your whole life kissing the veep's ass, we might as well go back to monarchy.

Melbourne Madness Part 2

2006-11-01T12:32:00.000+07:00

The John Mayer concert will kick off at 8 PM tonight. I'm excited.

Anyway, the local 83 Listening Union members decided to throw away some pre-show party last night. We went to some club and had a great time. I took heaps of picture until I finally decided to grab some Bass Ale and drink myself silly.

You have that moment when you're slightly intoxicated and you startt talking jibberish? Well I had those moment last night. Normally after two bottles of Carlsberg, I'd launch into some soccer talk....bad-mouthing all the Italian teams and that kind of crap. But last night -- maybe its because of the Ale -- I came up with a theory that I was actually Hitler's estranged distant cousin. See, pure jibberish.

Apparently Claire was more trashed than I, as you can see in this picture.

There are more drunk pics...including of me throwing out at a barstoll. But I'll post 'em after the show.

And I just noticed this...it seems like baby always wants to be the center of the attention. Not there's anything wrong with that. It's just everytime I call out for a group shot, she'll take the center position. Maybe that's her instinct.

(L-R) Kelly, ??, Meeka, Georgia, Britta the Viking Duchess

See, there?

Anyway, its just several hours away before I get to see this guy.

Stay tune for more Melbourne Madness.

Melbourne Madness Part 1 (pics included)

2006-10-31T10:22:00.000+07:00

Okay, first things first. I just talked to my dad on the phone and he said Sumpah Pemuda just went unnoticed. I don’t know…maybe most people thought it’s more interesting to visit their distant relatives back in kampong. Or maybe – as is the case in Poso – shooting people is more fun.
For the majority of the young people, Sumpah Pemuda probably has already become redundant. But for me – and I really do mean this – it’s a very momentous day because it reminds us that Indonesia is not always a fucked up country. It reminds me that some 70 years ago there were some young people who put away their differences and proclaimed loud and clear, “We are Indonesians!!!”

Where are these people now? It’s a good question and I have a good question for y’all: they don’t live in Poso.

On the lighter side, I’m in Melbourne right now. Some of you have probably known why, but for those who haven’t, John Mayer is having a show tomorrow evening at the Palais Theatre, Melbourne. The whole battalion is here: Claire, Dom, Britta, Georgia, Kelly and even my sister. Claire said there would be another kids from the Local 83 Listening Union. So yeah…this is bound to be great.

Oh and by the way my wife (ha…I can’t believe I’m using this word) is here too. She’s looking perfectly beautiful as always. She‘s actually proofreading this entry. If you think walking around St. Kilda is romantic, then you’ll have no idea of my notion of romance. Try to explain Huffington Post and the deficit to your politically-blind girl. It goes like this:

“Well you see, hun…the deficit is like when you don’t have money and you spend it anyway. Sort of like when you go on a shopping spree at the Big W…except that the ones who gonna pay for it are our kids, after we’re dead and gone. Politically speaking, our kids are gonna have to pay with their own lives for all these tax-cuts that your pap are so fond of. See, that’s why if I were you, I wouldn’t vote for the conservative party.”

Try to explain all that over breakfast.

Speaking of which, she just made me a delicious breakfast which consisted of bread and umm…Nuttella. Well, gotta appreciate it anyway.

After some serious consideration, I finally decided to sell my iPod Shuffle and bought a digital camera. I figured it would be great to own one now. I bought a Canon PowerShot A420. It looks like this:

It may not be the best digital camera around, but hell…that’s all I can afford and I ain’t plannin’ on gettin’ a Pulitzer neither. I just want to take some pictures from the concert, some pics of my baby and friends and proly some beautiful scenery around Melbourne. If I push my luck perhaps some producers might actually make a movie from my pictures. Either way I’ll post pictures in this blog.

Some crazy outtakes. What happens when 6 kids are jam-packed into a 3x3 hotel room? You either hot all claustrophobic or turn into a lesbian couple. As proven by this picture.

Is it just me or Georgia is looking strikingly hideous at this picture?

On a concert-related note, I know this may sound like a foolish dream but I kind of hope John would play Why Georgia. It’s really a special song to me not only because it’s the first JM song that I could play on a guitar but also because it reminds me of what my life once was. It takes me back to the old days when I had a no commitment whatsoever… yeah, those days when I skipped school and spent 3 consecutive hours at gunbound.

It’s really sad that this song doesn’t make it to John Mayer’s latest repertoire. But a man can dream, can’t he?

Stay tune for more of Melbourne Madness!!!

Cool Design

2006-10-09T12:24:00.000+07:00

Some guy from regional Medan in kaskus had this idea of making an official i.d card for all its member. Design is really cool and this guy said its made of acrylic.

I really have to get this when I get back to Medan.

The real face of neo-conservatism

2006-10-04T12:33:00.001+07:00

Quit whinning. You actually voted for him in 2004.

Live at the Union

2006-10-03T12:32:00.000+07:00

I will say upfront that this whole thing was Claire’s idea so I figured I’d give her some mad props.

I also would like to thank the guy who made the taping. I don't know you but without your tapings, this post would be so blah.

Now here's the story.

For those who don’t know, Claire is actually a member of the sorority club and for the past 6 months she’s been pestering me to come to the Union. I kindly refused her invitations because the people at the Union were just not my kind of crowd. Most of them are the frat types. And I don’t like frat groups. I’m highly versatile when I’m alone. My concept of Saturday Night Fun evolves around a glass of Carlsberg, nachos and football game on TV. Pathetic, but I’ve been doing that for the last 3 years of my life.

But last Sunday evening was an exception because we just completed pollution control, one of the toughest subjects at the Marine Obs. Honestly, I thought I’d flunk this one but somehow I made it through. Well, this sure called for a celebration and Claire insisted for us to go to the Union for some drinks. The group consisted of Claire, Dom Velasquez, Britta, Megan and me. Yeah, practically everyone from my beautiful little circle.

My first impression when we got to the Union was that it looked like Eddie’s Attic. Maybe I’m hallucinating. To access the venue, you must go up steps. When you get to the top of the steps, you have an outdoor patio area to your right (this is where they serve the food and drinks) and you’re pretty much standing in the pool room (this is where they sell campus merchandise) and to the left, you have the music room (this is where the open mic shows are held) . I think if you’re previously unfamiliar with the room, you’re really not expecting the venue to be as small and intimate as the place actually ends up being. There’s not a bad seat (or place to stand) in the house and it’s very geared towards “listening”, something that often gets forgotten at shows.

Claire had done the registering part earlier in the morning so I guess I’ll leave this part. We arrived at 7 PM, grabbed some glass of fruit punch and had some sound check. During sound check, we covered Keith Urban’s It’s A Love Thing. It was super. We all got to play. Claire used her Martin. I had some slide going on. Dom played the bass. We all did the vocals. Hahaha…that’s just priceless. Soundchecks weren’t taped so I have to leave you with the real version of the song.

Keith Urban -- It’s A Love Thing.

Oh and by the way, you should check out this Keith Urban's music. This guy is one of my recent favorite. I think i'll post some of his songs here tomorrow.

Everything’s finally set so I went to the pool room and used its wireless connection to post my previous entry. Shortly after, a guy named Kirk Dowell took the stage. He’s one of the Union’s regular and he really had this wonderful vibe going on. I was impressed and you will hear more about him in the future, I’m certain of it. He did a wonderful job considering some limitations he had with song selection.

Claire came up shortly after Kirk left the stage and she received heaps of applause from the audience before and after her song. She covered Britney Spears’ Toxic. No one expected to hear this song but the outcome was just fantastic. Think of an Australian Jew with a martin acoustic guitar covering Britney’s Toxic. Voila, you have Claire. This is her version.

Doesn’t she have such a sexy voice?

My turn finally came. And like most people who had to perform in front of a strange crowd, I got that nervous attack too. I was part of my junior high school choir and I did play the guitar on some church functions (yeah, strange this may sound, I was once a church-goer) But that was just about it. I hadn’t come up stage for what that seemed to be like a million years.

But it wasn’t as bad as I expected. I didn’t get crazy applause but some people did clap their hands after the song. Looking back in my mind, I enjoy every single aspect of my part. I enjoy the sound of tinkling glasses, the whispers, the Union’s banner behind my back, the colorful fliers on top of my head and the fact that my Fender didn’t break any string.

By the way, the song I was singing is called Slow Dancing In a Burning Room. Sweet title, don’t you think? It felt great to sing that song because everything was done in a very simple and minimum way. You probably remember how I found some great stuff at the Fullarton Expo. I didn’t get any of them at the Union. It was just me, playing a borrowed guitar and my friend Dom on bass.

As you can listen, there’s no crazy amps or drums or rhythm section. All I had was a vintage Ibanez Tube Screamer and a Keeley Katana Boost, which is a very cool clean boost. The pickup outputs were purposely lower, because I love weak pickups. Nothing sounds better. If you get pickups with a lower output, you actually get more color out of it. At least that’s what my guitar teacher taught me.

Simplicity is greatness itself.

Overall it was a great night and I kind of kicked myself for being such a late boomer. When I first came to the venue I was just hoping for some chill moments and top-40 music, but my expectations were exceeded. Who knew that there were so many talented and genuine musicians around us? Who knew that a slutty song like Toxic could sound like Rock and Roll? The show was great and it’s unfortunate that not many people could experience it directly.

Off-the-topic: it turns out that a law-abiding simple man like me can't actually enjoy a couple of drinks and just lose myself for a few weeks. Why is it every time I begin to enjoy life all the big news break? Last week three major events happened in my hometown. My old school had a bukpus, a crazy chinese guy commited public suicide and my mom lost her ATM card. Again.

Live performance

2006-10-01T17:49:00.000+07:00

No fucking kidding. I'll be performing at the Student Union's at 8 PM this evening. The open mic policy allows me only to sing one song, but this is really bound to be a special gig because I'll be using a friend's Fender. Taping is also allowed so I probably will put the audio link here tomorrow. More news after the show.

Wish me luck, peeps!!!

Sexy guitars and amps

2006-09-22T11:13:00.000+07:00

Dom and I went to the Fullarton Community Centre, Adelaide last night to see the expo. It was a bit far from our place so we drove early.

We checked around the venue and as you may have guessed, it was the Fender booth that really caught my attention. We went through 25 pages of the Fender Custom Shop catalogue and musically speaking, this piece of art really makes me horny.

gotta love the gunmetal color

check out the magical curves...

and the Fender Custom Shop logo

John Mayer used this guitar at last week’s Conan O’Brien’s show. You can download it here. I know Bit Torrent is not for everyone, but just in case anyone is interested, the link is there.

And the thing that really made me even hornier was the amps on the pictures. Luckily Two Rock Amps also had a booth at the venue so me and Dom went there to make some inquiries. The guy said it was a -Two Rock Custom Reverb Signature 100-watters. And since it was an exhibition, he let us test the amps.

Here's a closer look at the sexy amps.

I’m not going to give you the technicalities of the amps but all I can say is this: The Two Rock Custom Reverb to a musician is like silicon to flat-chested women. It gives you the sense of comfort, so when you walk to a room and people aren’t looking at you, you’ll go, “all these people are either blind or gay.” In a similar way, when I played the guitar with the Two Rock, I was like, “If it doesn’t sound right, it’s not the amp, it has to be the power in the room.”

I’m not a prolific guitar player but when I started to play with the TR amps, it was so liberating. I have always been a midrange dip lover, so last night I set the Two Rocks flanking a Fender blackface of some kind—like a 1x15 Vibroverb (damn if you know this). I ran all three at once, and, together, they created this kind of graphic-equalizing shape where the ends of my sound were very clear, because the highs and the lows of the Two Rocks are absolutely stunning.

Yeah…I can’t restraint myself from going to the technicalities. When it comes to music, I can be such a geek.

finding myself in Jakarta

2006-09-19T09:36:00.000+07:00

While I was waiting for my plane to take off in Polonia, it occurred to me that I never really got around in Jakarta. For most part, I only used it as a transit spot or to apply for /renew my Australian visa. So then I decided to extend my stay in Jakarta for a day before going back to Adelaide. Thanks to Air Asia and its insanely cheap airfare, my detour plan could be put to execution.

I was picked up by T. Grandis at the Cengkareng airport. Grandis and I go way back. We went to the same school. Now he’s enrolled at STAN. A quick search at my laptop gave me these two pictures:

Yes, that's me on the cowboy hat and No, there's nothing Brokebacky about this picture.

And another one:

Picture's taken at our highschool final day.

The thing about Grandis is he is such a good shot, both in virtual and real life. Both his dad and mine served at the Marine Corps and unlike most of the kids, we’ve been acquainted with firearms since our earlier days of existence. When most of our friends were playing with Tamagotchi, we were pumping air rifles, taking potshots at sardine cans. Some years later, while most of the 17-year-olds were melting their brains at physics, we were using Benellis. We used to go to hunting trips with the older folks at our local Perbakin chapter. In fact, we had one crazy wild pig slaughter in Dairi, just two days after my high school graduation. So yeah…it’s good to know that one of my hunting mates have made it big in Batavia.

I had several “to-see” plans earlier on. The first was to take a busway ride. Sounds crazy, but I really wanted to know what the hype was all about. The second one was to meet a former classmate at FHUI. I wanted to see who’s gonna ruin it for this country in the next twenty years. And my final plan was to go to Plaza Indonesia. Never been there before plus some friends told me I could meet a lot of celebrities down there. I never like Indonesian movies/TV serials/celebrities/etc, but then again if I could meet some of them celebrities, I’d have something nice to tell the folks back home.

But after 30 minutes in Jakarta, I realized that my first two plans could just go to hell. The traffic was disheartening and I’ll be goddamn if I ever take a 3 hours bus ride to a place where I know nobody. And as for the bus way…man, you can give it heaps of cool names, but its still a bus. It still runs on gas.

I did go to Plaza Indonesia, anyway. Grandis and I went there with some other STAN mates of his. We went to the movies and my initial response was, “HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD.” I never knew the ticket could be so expensive. With that kind of money, I could’ve bought myself a lot of high-fidelity, cheap pirated DVDs. Back in Medan, I could get the best seat at the best theatres for just 25k. Anyway, this movie we was Snakes on the Plane. And the whole time, I kinda kicked myself for spending so much money for such crap.

Apparently Grandis was all cashed-up that night because after the movie, he paid for our coffee at the Bucks. Yeah, that’s what friends are for. We had a long talk about the current events up in Medan, plus about the marine life in Adelaide. I tried as hard as I could to suppress my accent, but eventually I just burst out. Fuck it, I’m a north Sumatran and I speak like one.

In retrospect, Grandis friends must’ve thought of me as a slack-jawed yokel because the whole time he and I were talking about things that no Batavian could relate to. Seriously, how many Batavians know the fun of driving a ’68, door-less Chevy full of cow shit? My grampa made me do that all the time. Or how about shooting wild rabbit? Or drinking a cup of hot tea at 3200 meters above sea level? Or hand-made chessboards? Like most of the families in the neighborhood, my family has a little piece of farm in Karo highlands. Some of my best days were there.

His friends asked me about things in Medan. I said in spite of being labeled as the 3rd largest city in this country, Medan’s actually a small town. There’s just one mall worth the visit and you can find the whole townfolks in there. Everyone knows everybody. For example, if you talk about basketball and mention the name “Nathanael”, no one will draw a blank face and say, “which Nathanael?” If you talk about sluts and you mention the name “Adisty”, everyone will simply nod in approval. It’s a small and tight community.

Oh and by the way, if you want to look for me, just ask for that mid-eastern kid who drives a worn-out, battle-hardened Starlet, and those people will point you to my safe hideout.

On my way back to Grandis place, I said this to myself. Jakarta is definitely a great city. Well, at least if those crazy koala-fucking Australians think that Indonesia is full of uncivilized, loin-wearing, man-eating people, I will send them to Jakarta. But on the other hand, it’s just not for me. I can’t stand the traffic or the crime rates or the high living costs or the pressure or the daily riot. I think I’ll stick to my domesticated countryside life. Or Adelaide. I can stand that too.

Speaking of Adelaide, it hasn’t been three days but I miss my girl like hell already. I swear to god, it is a really a sad thing to drive around Cempaka Putih at 2 AM in the morning while listening to John Mayer’s heart-wrenching Simmering Medley. And knowing that each second and kilometer that I pass take me further from her.

These are the times when I wish my life had a “fast-forward” button attached to it.

"Goodbye" as you never heard of it

2006-09-15T13:31:00.000+07:00

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

I used to read these verses as a child but somehow it never really spoke to me. Not that I didn’t believe it. It’s just that I couldn’t relate myself to it. Things didn’t work both ways for me. As a child it wasn’t you get one today, you lose one tomorrow for me. I have always been surrounded by people who love me and things that I love. We might not be the richest family in the block, but in a way I have always been ahead of most of my friends.

But I guess eventually this will happen to everyone. As much as you try to surround yourselves with all the good things in life, there comes the day when you have to part with them.

I don’t lose many things in life. For most part, it has always been small items. You know, pens, toy soldiers, coins and that kind of stuff. But this time is different. I have to say goodbye to the person that I hold most dear. I have to say goodbye to my girlfriend.

I feel like that Gravity song. You can soar up so high only to come crashing down to earth. You can so have many things in life only to miss the best part of it. You can watch lots of Gilmore Girls, only to have the lights off on the season’s finale. In the last 2 weeks of my furlough we’ve had so much fun together. How many people actually bake cornbread during a terrible rain? How many “couples” ride their bikes all the way from Johor to Kesawan Square? How many couples spent 3 hours of their lives downloading a live show illegally? We’ve done all these things.

And that’s exactly the thing that makes it so unbearable. Next time I eat cornbread, I will go, “I wish she was here.” Or, “this cornbread sucks. I’ll sell my sell to the devil for her cornbread.” It’s not that life after her is going to be quiet. In fact, when I get back to Adelaide it will be three times noisier. There will be drunk girls talking crap down the hallway. There will be roaring engines at the MOS pier. There will be more Ben Lee gigs for me and Claire. There will be shouting and jibberish and flying spitballs. But twice as much doesn’t necessarily mean twice as good.

I talked to my older sister on the phone the other day and she said, “In four or five years from now, when you’re married, you’ll wish you had a better education.” She had a point. I’m leaving for education. For the future. But between now and 2010, I have so many fears and worries. And the biggest of them is waking up one morning and finding myself not in love with her anymore. That’s your biggest fear when you’re in love. I love her and I’m not afraid of loosing her. I have a faith that she won’t cheat behind my back. But on the other hand, I’m afraid that I will fall out of love. You know, like what if one day I wake up and say to myself, “I just want to spend my money and buy lots of pizzas. I want to hangout and do nothing.” If you do that, nothing will stop you.

It’s not about losing the person. It’s about losing the passion.

I get to say this because it happened to me. Back in high school, I was head over heels for Nadya. And I was like, “I’m never gonna erase her from my mind. My brain works like a CD-ROM. Once you get in, you can’t get out.” But then she moved to Jakarta and in six months I found myself with Meeka. Now that I have Meeka, I just hope I will never lose the passion and the urge.

I wish I could come up with better words to express what I’m feeling right now. But my language skills just won’t let me. So then I will leave you with this song called “Wheel” And yes, that's available for your download. Remember how grandma used to say, “hidup ini bagaikan roda pedati?” Well this is the cooler version of that advice.

It may never find its way to a radio station but from a songwriter’s perspective, this must be one of the greatest song ever written – at least think I so – because it encapsulates all the feelings.

Some of my favorite lines from the song:

And airports
See it all the time
When someone's last goodbye
Blends in with someone’s sigh
Cause someone's coming home

You can't build a house of leaves
And live like it’s an evergreen
It's just a season thing
It's just this thing that seasons do

If you never stop when you wave goodbye
You just might find
If you give it time
You will wave hello again

That's the way this wheel keeps working now