Old Friends

I ran into an old friend of mine online today.

Kelsey.

I knew her from my freshman year @ Brandeis University in Boston. Initially I passed her off as a stupid white girl who hung out with frat idiots, but as the year went on I learned that she was actually quite a delight. When she started dating my brother from another mother, I knew she was kosher and opened up to her. She's more than kosher. She's an entire kosher feast.

Friendships are best when the two parties don't keep in touch at all and ignore each other on buddy lists for months on end. One day someone decides to say hello and you just pick up where you left off. Conversation flows easily, actual care and consideration for the life of the other is expressed, and views are shared on where life is headed.

It really beats the nonsense of keeping in touch for no reason other than to keep in touch. Our lives are filled with so much mundane nonsense, but unless you have the context to truly understand said mundane nonsense, it quickly becomes drivel. I can't take much drivel (even though I dispense so much of it for absolutely no charge whatsoever).

I miss my friends from all over the world, but more often than not, have no idea what to say to them. I miss having context with them. I suppose having a blog is a way of making mundane nonsense optional (because while it quickly becomes drivel, it still plays an important part in any relationship. Not every interaction needs to be mind blowing.

So this is to Kelsey... and for everyone who thinks I've become a laconic, rude, and selfish bastard... well, I'm sorry.

I guess we just need to keep in touch more.

Slippers, Part 2

I stared at Shrek for the longest time. This was the best piece of news ever.

I quickly broke it down for Shrek and explained to him the plan that would really make him "The Man" and return my Birkies to me.

"Ok. Where are the slippers?

"Singapore. But Vinu spends his weekends in JB, with his girlfriend. My sister's girlfriend's sister."

"Tell Vinu to bring the slippers with him the next time he goes over to JB. Ask him to pass them to his girlfriend, who will pass them to her sister, who will pass them to YOUR sister, who will pass them to you."

"Settle man. But how are you going to get them from me?"

"Bring them with you the next time you come up to KL"

"Oh man, even better. Deepavali is next month. How about I pass them over to CC when he comes back to see his family? Then he can just pass it to you when he gets back to work"

"I love you Shrek. That is brilliant"

It really was brilliant, but I had forgotten one major obstacle in my path to slipper reunion: The plan required lots of communication between at least SIX different Indian people (2 girls, 4 guys) over 3 cities and roughly 375 kilometers between start and finish.

Deepavali came and went. Vinu wasn't answering his phone. Shrek was flim flamming about. CC was laughing in my face. He went back to JB for the holidays, got really drunk, and came back empty handed. With my feet bare but my whiskey glass full, I remember a quiet moment during my crazy Deepavali open house when I accepted that I was never going to get my slippers back unless I physically went down South and got all Search & Rescue on the situation. But that plan wasn't going to happen anytime soon either.

Many moons came and went. My Birkenstocks had become an infected thorn in the side of my memory banks... that fateful day where I spent so much money on slippers. Every time I found myself with no money, the short film of Koobz forking over two crisp S$50 bills for a pair of slippers would repeat continuously in my mental cineplex to sold out audiences... until I bumped into Shrek.

"I have your slippers"

"REALLY? FUCK MAN! THANKS! WHERE ARE THEY?"

"JB"

"Shit... ok... at least you have them now. Can you bring them up the next time you come to KL?"

"No problem, but these days I live in Melaka (1 hour north of JB, 2 hours south of KL)"

"Bloody shit you Shrek"

The biggest bloody shit though had to be on fate. Somehow footwear positivity had seeped into my consciousness. Merely having my slippers in the same country as me (yet less than 50km closer) was a big step forward. I knew I was going to get them back soon, and I knew my big opportunity would be Chinese New Year when CC would head back home for the holidays.

I did all my preparations. I called Shrek and made sure he had them. I left him specific instructions over what to do. I broke it down to CC, letting him know that he is not to return to KL until he has my slippers. Tronics, Upek, CC and myself had a small shadaggle before sending him off to the bus station and CC was on his way... but then decided not to take the bus down and we continued shadaggling at my parent-less (they were Istanbul-ing it) house. CC left the next day with his brother Jimi.

I waited... and waited... and waited. I mean, I wasn't just waiting. I was doing other things. Open houses, sending out mass CNY smses, drinking, shadaggling, and overall just living the beach lifestyle at my beach-less home. I completely forgot about the slippers. For the first time in yonks, my mind was at ease and my Birkenstocks could do whatever the hell they wanted to for all I cared. I was over them. I WAS OVER THEM.

CNY came and went. I went back to work and was late as usual. CC was at the office closing accounts, so we decided to do what we always do and cobra-ed our way out of there. Snoop was telling us to drop it like it's hot, the greenery was in full effect, and my mind was on my money and my money was on my mind... until CC reached into the back and threw an orange plastic bag at me.

"Ah... take your bloody slippers. Now just shut up about it. Rm200 for slippers... what the hell is wrong with you?"

I was stunned. I reached into the bag and pulled them out. My 6 hour used Birkenstocks! The light green suede upper still had the outline of my footprint on it from the first time I wore them. The dark brown leather straps were soft yet had all the strength they would need to move the Koobz around the city. They fit perfectly.

Here they are. Birkenstock Gizeh Winetasting Soft Gloss.



Strangely enough, the website had them under the Women's section. Bloody shit you Birkenstock. Men can wear them too.

In fact, they are all this man wears these days.

"You paid HOW much for slippers???"

Sometime during the middle of 2004, I was given the delicious oppurtunity of the lead role in a Shakespearean tele-movie ("A Made-for-TV Special!" for my American friends) on Singaporean television. It was the story of Valentine (me) and Proteus, the "Two Gentlemen of Verona" (this being a Singaporean adaptation of the work, their names were changed to Valentine Ranjit Sharma and Potato Lim).

The opportunity was made far "HO" as it offered me a chance to leave KL for a glorious 1 week. The city was becoming a tad bit suffocating and frankly I just needed to not see certain people in my life for at least a few hours... or days.

So I went.

Singapore here I come!

But Singapore is another story... this entry is about my slippers.

At the end of my crazy 5 day shoot in the Lion City, I had saved all my per diem as well as my fee (cash money babyyyyyyyyy) and hit Orchard Road.

My goal was a pair of Birkies. I knew countless people who had them in the US and they were always waxing lyrical about how comfortable, durable, convenient, sexy, EURO 3 emissions compliant they were. Somehow, I was never convinced... it was always too much of a "white" thing for me to buy a pair of Birkenstocks in the US (especially since my roommate Hil is a damn hippy anyway, and he had a pair... 1 pair per room is more than cukup, as I used to say back then).

Then I started going out with this girl in KL and SHE had a pair... and she was always wearing them. In fact, she even got a new pair mid-way through the relationship and just kept on wearing the new ones.

By this point I had left all my stupid "It's so white" feelings behind me (about a lot of things) and began to envy the silent smugness in my girl's face or the nature-cool elegance of her footwear stylings. So I had to have a pair. Damn you.

Fast-forward again to the part where I picked one out, fitted myself, and paid the money for it... S$100!!!! That's about RM220.00 (about 75 cents in the US and 47 giant wooden coins in Tonga-Tonga) for a fucking pair of slippers! The pair I was wearing at the time only cost me RM7, and they were splendiferous.

But I bought them anyway, and put them on immidiately and went about my day. That night, I packed my bags and snagged a ride back to KL with my brother (The Don was in town on drinking purposes). My 6 hour old Birkenstocks on the other hand, they were still at Vinu's apartment in Singapore.

After an emergency phone call, Vinu promised me he would take good care of them while waiting for me to tell him of my latest friend who was passing through Singapore who would gladly take the slippers off his hands for him... or me rather. So I called in favors left, right, and centre. People were going to Singapore left, right, and centre, but no one had the extra effort required to make a phone call and go pick up a pair of slippers for a brother.... nobody.

2 months past. I thought of my slippers now and then. I thought about rescuing them, making a quick dash south past the border and then back up again for some bak kut teh. Nothing materialized.

5 months past. I met CC's cousin Shrek on the way to a rave. He was drunk, I was drunk. Shreik is from Johor (big city in the south, neighbours with Singapore. We give them vices and petrol, they give us cash money babyyyyyyyyyyyyy) and being Indian, the both of us felt the need to be even drunker and very sharing. One thing led to another before he pulled me close and eyeballed me with his freaky-deeky Shrek eyes

"Are you the Koobz who was acting in Singapore?"

"Yeah man... CC told you issit? I don't act anymore"

"No man, I don't care. I know Vinu. He's my sister's girlfriend's sister's boyfriend. He has your slippers."

TO BE CONTINUED...

-----------------
END OF PART 1.
-----------------

I have a new pet

I have a blister on my thumb. It is about the size of half a kidney bean. I got it from playing the bass guitar during an impromptu jam session with Tronics and Cobra Commander (from now on referred to as CC). I ain't no musician, so I'm proud of this one. I'm not going to pop it. It is really quite beautiful.

I'm going to let it get as big as it wants, and then listen to its hopes and dreams.

I love you blister.

Additional note:

After the jam session, CC and I headed to Titus Blues down in Petaling Street to check out his cousin's band, Deja Voodoo.

Wah. These bastards can really rock. Rithan on lead guitar and vocals, Mel on bass, and Inol on drums. They don't sound like a bunch of kutus who can really rock, they sound like a bunch of musicians who can really rock.

They played an excellent cover of Hendrix's "Lil' Wings". There are a lot of other talented musicians in this country, but Deja Voodoo had control. They were going quite crazy during their respective solos during their 5 song set, but they were in control of it every second of the way. I think they are going to be really big. If not in KL, then somewhere else where boybands don't control the airwaves.

Check out their 1st single, "I am what I am" at www.musiccanteen.com. It's only RM3 to download it. Do your part and Pastikan Ori!

Stupid Things I Do

I was feeling very halla-halla as I left Tronic's 10th floor apartment and got into the elevator.

The elevators at the Mayfair Apartments in Plaza Damas are quite awkward because all the surfaces are reflective (except the floor). So there I was, alone and standing really close to the door and doing that thing where your tounge makes loud suction noises because you are cleaning your teeth and also because you are trying to make loud suction noises with your tounge. I had the place to myself.. I was suctioning away like it was my birthday and doing all the things people do when close up in a mirror.

The doors suddenly opened and assuming it was the ground floor, I made one last loud squeak and walked out and straight into a really cute girl. I didn't have time to remove my tounge from my teeth, so it was stuck somewhere between my canines and my incisors, creating an unsightly yet very trucker-cool bulge in my upper lip.

"Excuse Me"

I didn't say anything. I made brief eye contact and then backed up into the lift and pressed the open door button as she made her way in. I pressed "G" again.

"Thank You"

I didn't say anything. I folded my arms and just looked 45 degrees to my right. Awkward silence ensued. I could see her looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I could see her looking at me looking at her out of the corner of my eye. I think it was because I hadn't removed my tounge from the suction noise position. I could have sworn I made a small little squeak just for posterity's sake, but I could be wrong.

We reached the ground floor and I held the doors open as she walked out. Once again,

"Thank You"

and I said absolutely nothing. By now I was staring at the floor. My tounge was starting to hurt.

She was about 3 steps ahead of me when I realised that my established walking speed would make me overtake her in the next 2 seconds. I started to make my move on the right but she heard my footsteps and began to turn her head slightly. At that precise moment, I quickly adjusted and switched to the left side instead. 2 steps later I was beside her and 4 steps later I was ahead of her. She had stopped in her tracks and had made one full, right turning circle as she tried to catch my eye. I covered the last 4 feet with ease and as I hit the glass doors I looked up and she caught me.

She was looking straight at me through the reflection in the doors, curly auburn hair still settling in curls from the spin she just made. She had a really confused look on her face. I had my tounge stuck between my teeth. We held the look for an eighth of a second and then I was out.

As I left the building, I was triumphant. Paranoia induced by halla-halla time always makes me try to avoid any form of interpersonal contact when travelling from Private Space to Car. Faced with the complicated situation of a friendly and polite hot chick, I succesfully dodged all her attempts at pleasantry.

But then I got into my car and my conscience pulled me aside and said "Hey hey hey man.... Koobz... what the hell, dude? You are always complaining about Malaysians being rude and not saying thank you, and you are always complaining about hot chicks being arrogant. Then you go an do this... man, you suck". The best part is, this girl was really cute. REALLY cute.

I sighed, reached for a Winston Light, and headed back to the lobby. She was still standing there in her Chinese Girl on a Sunday shorts, reading the free copy of the Sun. I walked up to her and said,

"Excuse me... Sorry, that was really rude of me just now. I owe you an "Excuse me" and at least two "Your Welcomes". I'm perpetually complaining about Malaysians being rude and it really caught me off-guard when you said thank you. Anyway, I'm sorry. Hopefully I'll see you around."

She giggled and said "It's ok. Yeah, see you around" and then gave me her best "Wow. You are really wierd but in a good way. Yes Koobz, I hope to continue bumping into you in the lift and around the lobby. Thank you. Have a pleasant day" smile and we both went our seperate ways.

I wonder if I would have done that if she wasn't so damn cute...