Tuesday, July 29, 2008

je t'aime plus que..

We don't celebrate valentines, but this poem remains my favourite.
He makes no fuss about it, but its been that long since I posted anything to him.
So here goes.

Of course its specially for mon prince de Perse, my comedian the apt pupil, my sweet 'fat' guy,the serious preacher, the garang bonzer, the ikan bilis lover, the tiger tamer, the ikan keli catcher, the football captain-tennis-badminton-kite runner hero, the avid PS2 gamer (haha),the horrid Chelsea supporter, my books wholesaler, my favourite favourite, you remain my all time number one. Hope this brings a smile on your face.

Je t'aime plus que..un valentine :)

To My Valentine
by Ogden Nash

More than a catbird hates a cat
Or a criminal hates a clue
Or the Axis hates the United States
That’s how much I love you

I love you more than the duck can swim
And more than a grapefruit squirts
I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore
And more than a toothache hurts

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea
Or a juggler hates a shove
As a hostess detests unexpected guests
That’s how much you I love

I love you more than a wasp can sting
And more than the subway jerks
I love you as much as the beggar needs a crutch
And more than a hangnail irks

I swear to you by the stars above
And below, if such there be
As the High Court loathes perjurious oaths
That’s how you are loved by me


Monday, July 28, 2008

monday blues

shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not shall i shall i not.
i'm nuts.

this is lancia delta integrale for those who don't know its the 6 world rally champion somehow a rarity in our region occasionally impractical to maintain because it is italian and spareparts susah mangkuk nak cari but delightful to drive. Hanya jauhari mengenal manikam so what shall i do.


Sunday, July 27, 2008

hold your own..

My little sister likes Mr Mraz. I like him too.
This particular song, I dedicate to all my troubled friends. I know its a perfect lullaby, so don't wind it up during your working hours,but the lyrics are deep. Why details in the fabric, when its not your fault, but the beauty is all there.
May all of you be strong in this trying time.
May God put a smile on your face.

Jason Mraz's Details in the Fabric Lyrics

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling all your threads and
Breaking yourself up

If it's a broken part, replace it
But, if it's a broken arm then brace it
If it's a broken heart then face it

And hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way

And everything will be fine
Everything will be fine

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I'm doing everything

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you're shocked it's just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing.

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Hearts will hold


Friday, July 25, 2008

of mortars and the bombs

The bombshell had been dropped yesterday: now they allow mortars.

Such a big fuss was created, there was even an announcement in Bernama radio.

Why of course, maybe you won’t have a clue what mortar is because you graduated from that Uni. (i know you know laa. haha)

Because when you graduate from that Uni, there are no mortars on your head to be thrown about silly after the convocation ceremony. If you’re from that Uni, you have to either wear a tudung if you’re a female or don the songkok if you’re a male. While tudung is a religious requirement, songkok is a Malay standard headgear.

And if you happen to be ‘culturally or religiously’ forbidden to wear both of them, you can’t and you don’t attend your graduation ceremony. I’m reminded to two wonderful friends of mine who had missed receiving the scroll at the ceremony because the family isn’t too comfortable with them donning the songkok. (Note: they're non-malay) So much they wanted too, and they came for the rehearsals just for the fun of it, but because they respect their family’s wishes, they have to skip their once in a lifetime celebration of joy.

I am sure I wasn’t the only one who felt sore about this whole incident, because in the country, we don’t live alone, and certain degree of respect to cultures must be observed. If they’re uncomfortable wearing songkok, why should we force them to?

But something must have knocked that Uni into good sense: this year, they're replacing the ribbon on the tudung and songkok with mortars.

Not a big deal actually, even if you don't attend the ceremony, you're still a graduate. So what's the big deal la. Haha actually some of the life long professor look stupid in their 'harry porter' styled mortars and gowns, but really, if you're up there already, you should know, clothes don't make a man.


Wednesday, July 23, 2008

matters of the heart

Not that heart. But the physical heart, the one that beats.

Well I'm not trying to be a doctor today, but I've the sudden interest to know more about heart attack, well er, since my father got admitted into ICU because of a heart attack (after a stretching exercise) last Monday.

I got most of the information from my sister (you got to have one of 'em in the family hehehe) who casually told us that most heart attacks occur as a result of coronary artery disease a.k.a CAD.

CAD is the buildup of plaque on the inner walls of the coronary arteries. And overtime, a section of plaque can break open, causing a blood clot to form at the site. And heart attack happens if the clot becomes large enough to cut off most or all of the blood flow through the artery.

Causes of heart attack relates to the risk factors that makes someone more likely to develop CAD and eventually, heart attack. But from my understanding, the risk factors fall into 2 categories, one which you can control, and the other is uncontrollable.

Mostly the controllable risk factors revolves around our lifestyle. Do we smoke, or we're leading a stressful life, or do we overeat and lack of exercise, all which ultimately can lead to high blood pressure, diabetes, overweight, obesity etc etc.

And unfortunately the uncontrollable risk factor is if its in your blood. I mean if there's family history of CAD, and take into account the age factor, the older, the riskier.

i asked Yah are we now suddenly considerably having the risk factor.
To this she said yes the minute abah had his first attack.

Oh well to start off, my father is a big eater. Just last week we had BIG dinner at Marche and last weekend with the kids he had KFC and Pizza hut. Though he often exercises, and there's no family history of CAD, yah said actually the modern living makes it hard for normal people to be spared. Even few footballers at their prime suffered untimely death because of heart attack.

So.... a lesson for the heart.
Today, tomorrow can be your time.
Like Mak said... kene ingat Tuhan setiap masa, bukan waktu azan je.
(Kenapa waktu azan? because orang selalunya senyap bila azan. Er?)


Sunday, July 20, 2008

something to tell you

..if ever your world starts crashing down..
whenever you will starts crashing down
thats where you'll find me..
-all for down by One Republic

After a whirlwind of a week, (including a trip back to Tangkak and cendol-slurping weekend near Muar High School) I managed to push myself into finishing the latest Hanif Kureshi's novel.

I don't know.
Maybe I was too overly indulged into eating Atuk's durian susu and the super-sweet manggis.
And the happy smile on Atuk's face was all I could think of.
Or the eventful roadblocking week.
Or the roller-coaster emotional ride involving a dear friend's emotion.
Or was I missing my other half while I was in Johore.
Or was I too occupied thinking if I had the chance to pay a visit to The Boss' mother's funeral in Tangkak.

Poor Boss, he had just lost his father a month ago.

Whatever it was, I couldn't bring myself to finish the latest Kureshi's book.

I know and I respect that writers have their themes (afterall, they write something that is close to their heart and soul -dekat di hati) but after 6 versions of near-biography novels, you know what I mean.

Think about a Pakistani living in London.
And the (repeated) issues of ill-stricken society.

Somehow stories relating to psychoanalyst reminds me of a french film (Son's Room), and I quite like the dark effects how these psycho-people bring about themselves, but I cannot symphatise with Kureshi's Jamal, even as a "collector of sighs".

As a Freudian analyst on the opposite role now on the couch,on his way to spill his big secret, the after effect was uncontrollable:

'To prevent myself collapsing, I had to hold on to a lamp post. I began to defecate uncontrollably. Shit ran down my legs and into my shoes. I began to weep; then I vomited - vomiting the past. My shirt was covered in sick. My insides were on the outside; everyone could see me. It wasn't pretty and I had ruined my suit, but something had started.'

I always thought I read because of the structures of the language more than the story itself, but I think I'll read it again when I'd managed to calm myself down. When I'm thirsty for beautiful language instead of an expectation that the book would steal my breath away. I felt I've been taken in a wild ride (which usually means good thing) but this time the ride was driven in A Benz suited for offroad trails.

If you must ask, the music tie-in is One Republic's All fall down. Superb music, unfortunately its in my head while finishing this book.

Anyway. I'm off to mountain-biking. Ciou!

P/s: the art cover is nauseating. Can it be more obvious!


Friday, July 18, 2008

passable rights made easy

Its becoming very convenient to believe that every single day I have a hearing, the dark powers would summon the blue boys to road block my way to court.

Yesterday was our very taxing taxation hearing but at 9.30 am I was still nowhere near court.

Lucky I can call the court to stand down, but what about those poor people who is not half as fortunate like I am?
Things that cannot be canceled, re-do, rearrange?
Like CLP exam. Or flights schedule.
Or even when nature calls.

Eh, waitaminute.
There might be a solution for the rest of us (until mid 2010) in cases of roadblocks and you suddenly feel the urge. Imagine, you're stuck in the car, no nearest W.C in sight...

I introduce you to SHIT BOX.


But for other things, it just would remain shitty (no pun intended).
You might have a laugh about the shitbox, go on, but may I remind you that for someone that sleeps during meetings, he seems to grasp the notion of power perfectly.
Look how much it affected the everyday life of ours.

Hmm how I wish I could just throw away those stupid politicians as easy as this.

I don't know, but I would like to believe I'm a (wo)man of principles, but seriously this whole politics debacle is running thin on my patience.
This is not politics, but a circus!

Thank you pak bodoLah.
Menyusahkan rakyat.


Tuesday, July 15, 2008


pix by berita harian
1.Been busy.
Monday yesterday was sucky, traffic was extremely horrendous,roadblocks as instructed by paranoid ministers, 2 solid hours just to reach court, turning up late for a hearing before 'the judge' in sessions 11 (you-know-who) and had to run to the other side of the massive court for case management. But it wasn't all that bad, after bated breath, leg cramps and clumsy encounters, meeting friends after court is always a treat to the heart sore.

And now preparing for a taxation hearing on Thursday (seriously I don't know what to expect). Any clues?

2. Basikal bogel.
Got myself a new exercise regime, a Le Run mtb (grinning all the way). "Basikal bogel" thats what Mak calls it (because she says it lacks basket, carrier, mud guards, dynamo light and ring bell -all those the olden bikes used to be equipped with).
And twenty minutes is all it takes for a healthier heart.
(and maybe firmer thighs. Sigh)

And almost a rundown, the heart was blasting like a ticking bomb ready to explode!
My God. My body is my temple and I've been neglecting it...

3. bulan-bulan sebelum Ramadhan
Got a friendly call by my mentor,the murabbi to be exact kak AG called to ask "apa khabar amalan bulan rejab?" and it got.me.right.there.

She said" banyakkan selawat, dan tadabbur Quran".

Just a friendly reminder. =)
For you and me.


Saturday, July 12, 2008

thousand splendid suns

I only give credit when its due so I own up:
Actually every Khaled Hosseini's book in the house belonged to Yah and I happen to have the privilege of her "forgetfulness" that I managed to get hold of them =P

Since the Kite Runner's, a runaway bestseller, everyone is eager for the next novel by the Afghan writer, and every anticipation is paid handsomely because (imho) Thousand Splendid Suns is way better.

Again the stories in Thousand Splendid Suns revolve around the Soviet-Taliban war, but the similarities of social tendencies of brotherhood this time is indirectly shown by the wives in a polygamous marriage sharing a "spiteful and embarrassing" blood. I like novels that describe history with the personal view of non-historic individuals, and Khaled had done beautifully on the modern history of Afghanistan, from 1964 to 2003. I'm tempted to compare with the novel by Edward Rutherford, Russka: The Novel of Russia.
No spoilers here, I suggest you read it on your own.
Its beautiful.

About the title of the story, it's actually loosely translated by the poem Kabul by Sayb-e Tabrizee. Thank God for google.

Ah! How beautiful is Kabul encircled by her arid mountains
And Rose, of the trails of thorns she envies
Her gusts of powdered soil, slightly sting my eyes
But I love her, for knowing and loving are born of this same dust

My song exhalts her dazzling tulips
And at the beauty of her trees, I blush
How sparkling the water flows from Pul-I Bastaan!
May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!

Khizr chose the path to Kabul in order to reach Paradise
For her mountains brought him close to the delights of heaven
From the fort with sprawling walls, A Dragon of protection
Each stone is there more precious than the treasure of Shayagan

Every street of Kabul is enthralling to the eye
Through the bazaars, caravans of Egypt pass
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
And the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls

Her laughter of mornings has the gaiety of flowers
Her nights of darkness, the reflections of lustrous hair
Her melodious nightingales, with passion sing their songs
Ardent tunes, as leaves enflamed, cascading from their throats

And I, I sing in the gardens of Jahanara, of Sharbara
And even the trumpets of heaven envy their green pastures


Thursday, July 10, 2008


I'd just finished reading Iris Murdoch's A Fairly Honourable Defeat.
Not without a dizzying perspective of satanical engulfment and Julius King is Lucifer, the beautiful and gifted playmaker for honest persons to cheat about themselves.

How easy it is to deceive and be deceived!

Have always had a thing for Irish authors.
Iain Banks and Iris Murdoch. Two favourites and they're Irish.

And while reading Bank's Walking on Glass, I read and think about the damning final chapter with Stereophonics' Drowning in the background (in my head and on the stereo alternatively).

Mornings I can't breathe
Wave crashes over me
And drowns me
Wind's running rings around me
It takes me time to see
What is real?
-Drowning by Stereophonics
I annoyingly caused the passengers of my car to dread listening repetitiously to it while I was still haunted by the characters of the book, and I must apologise. Good thing its good music.

And to Murdoch's classical attempt to define the philosophical realism, social intimacies and the morals of having none, I'm reminded to Damien Rice's 9 Crimes.

Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be cheating on you
It's the wrong time
She's pulling me through
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse
-9 crimes by D. Rice

Must I always have this accompanying music to help me feel the characters in books I read?
I can't help it.
Books are the literary spirit and lyrics are the haunting factor.
I cannot help but not to separate them two.
If I did, its like being Julius King.


Wednesday, July 09, 2008

losing so much time...?

What day is it? And in what month?
This clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time

'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do
Nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you...


quantum of happiness

"...should've married her long before..."

That's what he said when he lost his dear wife to ovarian cancer.

They got married four years ago, and not long after that she was diagnosed with cancer, the most dangerous type of cancer in O&G and often only discoverable at the terminal stage.
Until then everything was too late.

"..should've married her long before..."

That's what he said, a sad regret of a loving husband who had battled it with the wife unfailingly and faithfully hers until her last of breath, heroic as maybe, the loss can not be replaced. I knew her since I was at school, she was a good a person, an angel and heaven is the destination for her, a loving wife and a grateful, patient servant to God.

I was thinking hard if our happiness can be quantified by the amount of time we spent together with our loved ones, and although the answer in not always affirmative, one can only regret so much as a notion of undying love..

Time is so precious, and time is the only thing that bring us forward to the the end of the waiting time.

Al-fatihah to kak Abby aka Abriza.
Semoga roh akak dicucuri rahmat kasih sayang-Nya.


Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Balsamo do Desilusao

Disappointment is considered bad. A thoughtless prejudice. How, if not for through disappointment, should we discover what we have expected and hoped for? And where, if not in this discovery, should self-knowledge lie? So, how could one gain clarity about oneself without disappointment?

We shouldn’t suffer disappointment sighing at something our lives would be better without. We should seek it, track it down, collect it. Why am I disappointed that the adored actors of my youth all now show signs of age and decay? What does disappointment teach me about how little success is worth? Many need a whole life to admit the disappointment about their parents to themselves. What did we really expect from them? People who have to live their life under the merciless rule of pain are often disappointed at how others behave, even those who endure with them and feed them the medicine. It’s too little, what they do and say, and also too little what they feel. “What do you expect?”, I ask. They can’t say it and are dismayed that, for years, they have carried around an expectation that could be disappointed and they don’t know details of it.

One who would really like to know himself would have to become restless, fanatical collector of disappointments, and seeking disappointing experience must be like an addiction, the all-determining addiction of his life, for it would stand so clearly before his eyes that disappointment is not a hot, destroying poison, but rather a cool, calming balm that opens our eyes to the real contours of ourselves.

And it should not only be disappointments concerning others or circumstances. When you have discovered disappointment as the guide to yourself, you will be eager to learn how much you are disappointed about yourself: about lack of courage and inadequate honesty, or about the horribly narrow borders drawn by your own feelings, acts, and sayings. What was it we expected and hoped for from ourselves? That we were boundless, or quite different from what we are?

One could have the hope that he would become real by reducing expectations, shrink to a hard, reliable core and thus be immune to the pain of disappointment. But how would it be to lead a life that banished every long, bold expectation, a life where there were only banal expectations like “the bus is coming?”

What about disappointments that we were trying so much to elude without understanding our own expectations? The silver lining in every cloud is never fictional, but rather a sign from God that we're truly loved.

Note: This post is related Amadeu de Prado's letter to himself, the enigmatic doctor who wanted to reset the Portuguese language (who had, according to Mercier, the author of Night Train to Lisbon, had joined the resistance against Salazar), wrote about Balsamo do Desilusao, loosely translated as "Balm of Disappointment". In immediate understanding, one would never be comforted by disappointments, but as Prado put it, never ironically, disappointments are the cooling balm of your internal self-pain which we regard as the disappointments blameworthy instead of our own errors,mistakes and faults which we will never admit. Doctors are, in fact, complex creatures of sensitive and self-blaming kind, but tis' better to look inward, than looking outward.............


Saturday, July 05, 2008


and when you're out there without care
yes I was out of touch
but it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

does that make me crazy?
-Gnarls Barkley, Crazy

Recently I found comfort in watching the news in languages that I don't (and can't) understand.
News delivered in Tamil or Mandarin to be exact.

Somehow by watching either the two, once again I can stomach the nauseating chicken shit national news, although images of the scandal-infested politicians and propagandists confirmed my convictions of what I actually was trying to avoid to know in the first place.

And yet the sound coming from the tube consoles me that the world is not on mute, like a form of escapism from the reality, as if I can really escape the news if it's delivered in languages I don't speak.

We're not watching a Mafia drama, but of which the fate of our nation lies in their dirty hands. And the way that the newscaster delivers the news deliver it so nonchalantly made me furious somehow I felt that all of us had been cheated from the truth.
Their casual manner bothers me.

And to digest the stories with their escaping eyes of is almost becoming a sensational theory but, a conclusion that we as the people are desperate to draw as the pinch is felt while we need to move on with our lives.

Much to my dismay how can "all of them" stoop so low remains something that I can't fathom, be in my habitually spoken languages or even other language.

The shock and horror of the nation is universally understood.

A tie-in, a revelation, a clean break from all this circus.


Thursday, July 03, 2008

buruk buruk buruk buruk

Presenting: the 08/09 kit.
One word and its already been said too many a time.

p/s: Not that I give a hoot what heck of a jersey they wear (what's important is how they play the game afterall), for all I care, their best looking kit would be the black Euro kit. (Last season's kit is nice too) But even that, because its endorsing something that I religiously and personally disapprove, I'm one of those fan who just have do without it. So thats why I don't usually take it in so much how the team looks like on the field. But seriously this time memang teramat hodoh I have to complain. Hahaha.

Below are the better looking kits. (Sigh. Terok la korang punya sales pasni jual jersey hodoh sape nak beli habis tu cena korang nak buat power purchase player yang boleh harap sikit?!)

Note: I am so not advertising for Carlsberg ok. Seriously when's Carlsberg ever going to give up with Liverpool???? For once let me be a proud LFC jersey owner.

kan kacak without carlsberg. This pix taken in France, LFC meeting Toulouse.
As alcohol advertising is forbidden for sports in France, they played without it and won the game.


Wednesday, July 02, 2008

the diamonds and their girls

Two weeks ago at a jewelery shop in a shopping mall:

My sister and I was browsing through the diamond rings collection, hardly noticing the price tag as both of us were caught in the swirl of black hole of admiration. When I spotted The Diamond Ring, the quirky salesman got my attention.

This is the conversation between us:

wide-eyed me: this is one is so beautiful!
sister: its too big la (noticing the size of the rock. Huge!)
salesman: (quickly put the ring on my finger)
wide-eyed me: oooh how much is this?
salesman: got discount one! some more you can pay 0% installment!
wide-eyed me: (spotted another ring) and that? and how bout this one?
salesman: all got discount one
wider-eyed me: eh you better take this ring back. Nanti i bawa lari.
salesman: no problem. U can bawa lari. But marry me first!
sister: oh corny corny.

No I didn't buy the ring or marry the guy just to have it.. my heart is set just for my bubuchan. =P

Last week at the same store:

I was browsing the bracelet collection after deciding that one ring will be too much. And the same quirky salesman was entertaining me (from behind of the counter)

me: how much for that bracelet?
salesman: you mean the platinum or the white gold?
me: er. Why don't you quote both the price.
salesman: why don't you try it. (offering the platinum)
me: okay (this time I put it on myself. ye sayang?)
salesman: so how? try the white gold as well
me: okay (again I took it from him and put it on myself) (emphasizing)
salesman: this one is more expansive than the ring. Size and amount of diamonds, smaller cuts make all the difference. (showing the price tags)
me: bapak mahal! haha you better take it off before I ruin it!
salesman: no problem. You got how many sisters?

corny, corny.

For this type of service, please head on to T***** & Co.

(for the record, I've three single sisters but one made unavailable due to age restriction)

They say diamonds are girl's bestfriend.
Much that I adore diamonds (me being tomboyish and all tapi gile berlian. Don't quite jive eh?)
but I don't think I'll marry a guy just for his diamonds.

I don't care about the rocks, just your heart that I adore the most. A smile that melts me.


toi plus moi =)

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