The Adventures of Captain Karat

Too Sensor-tive

2011-04-09T13:57:00.003+08:00

It is important, as a guy, to take stock of where the hottest girls in your immediate vicinity are at all times. It is a basic function of the male radar. As I was in the process of buying halal and non-halal lunch for the homeys at the production house I'm currently working at, I spied a rather fetching Damansara Heights broad-shouldered slightly tanned honey sitting near the char kway teow stall, having a rather loud conversation about fetching her little brother from school and NOT being happy about it. Her boyfriend munched away on his fruit rojak demurely, listening to the diatribe. She was fun to look at, not listen to. I had the privilege to walk by her twice. She did not have a tattoo. Oh well.

On my way out, the carpark widened out near the autopay machine so El Stormo Guapo sidled up next to another SUV, leaving the road clear for people to exit. I am a conscientious driver... but just as I was about to come to a stop, a car honked at me.

Whoops.

I was blocking someone who was trying to reverse out. It was the hottie from the char kway teow stall. Helloooooo thereeeeee, actually more like No Problem M'aam. Within 2 seconds, I was in reverse and started to back up again as to let my obstructed honker out into the world.

HONKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

I slammed on my brakes and checked my mirrors. Nothing on the left, on the right, nothing behind me. Just the obstructed car. So I started moving again.

HONKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

What the bumbaclat was going on? I looked over to my impatient captive. With her hand poised on her steering wheel, she was definitely horny, and not shy about it. At that point, her boyfriend walked passed and started to get into her passenger seat. He had a look of death on his face, like as if I had just run over his fruit rojak and stole his earplugs that carried him all through lunch. He was checking out the bums of our cars, looking out for traded paint... alas, there was none. I took the opportunity to put my window down.

ME: Hi, is there a problem?

HER: WHY ARE YOU DRIVING SO CLOSE TO MY CAR????

ME: What?

HER: WHY ARE YOU DRIVING SO CLOSE TO MY CAR????

ME: Did I hit it???

HER: NO! BUT MY SENSORS ARE GOING OFF?

ME: That's because you are in reverse gear... and I didn't hit your car because I know what I am doing. I am more than a foot away from your car. Thank you.

HER: IS THAT TRUE REGGIE? IS HE MORE THAN A FOOT AWAY?

***SCENE****

Oh Reggie. I bet you didn't tell the truth. She was hot enough to lie for...

Hey Bicycle, The Key To The Room In Your Heart Doesn't Work

2011-02-20T20:16:00.015+08:00

I've been in Singapore two weeks now. Rehearsals has kicked up a gear and we are zooming towards performance. I'm being surprisingly disciplined with regards to the show; I'm yet to kick up any kind of tantrum, all my requests have been fair, and I'm being remarkably gracious towards my co-actors. By this I mean I'm not behaving like the closet diva that I can be when I'm acting. I guess I'm growing up, eh? Fuck it took me long enough. Blimey.

I need to tell you this story...

A large part of my decision to take up the offer to shelve my life as I know it for 2 months, take a 75% pay cut, relocate to Singapore and act in a student play was that I needed to shake up my life. My moorings were becoming super strong, my creativity was rusty, and I'm just not getting along with KL at the moment. It's not the city, it's entirely me, but the poor baby gets blamed for everything, including my lack of exercise, forward thinking, and just every negative thought I have in my body. I don't mean it KL, I don't. I'm sorry.

As I was planning my trip, I realised that with Singapore's (relative) adherence to traffic laws,a bicycle would be a great way to commute to the National University of SIngapore (NUS) in Clementi. SO a month before I left, I was in the market for a bicycle. I looked around various shops in the Klang Valley. Did I want a road bike [SUPLEX!]? Maybe a mountain bike [FROM THE TOP ROPE!]? Should I just fix Harein's mountain bike and be done with it [OOH CLOTHESLINE INTO DROPKICK!]? I wrestled with these thoughts for a while, then someone tweeted a link to "The Right Bike Store" in Batu Pahat which led to a series of e-mails with the owner about how to go about buying a bike from them etc. Really uncomplicated stuff, but again, I'm a wrestler. Finally, the legendary Farouk came to the rescue when he said I could borrow either one of his two bicycles for my entire trip, free of charge. LIFESAVER!

Great, so now I had a bicycle, but could also kiss my plan of taking the bus down to Singapore that weekend out of the window. We'd have to drive down, and because of the nature of the goods involved, we'd have to take my truck in all its rumbling, trundling, hard suspension glory. It doesn't go very fast, but it can hold a bicycle no problem. I slow-talked (emotionally blackmailed) Herukh into helping me drive down. The conversation roughly went like this:

****************************

H: I just drove down 2 weeks ago for Toshak.

K: Yeah, I know. So you'll drive down for one brother but you won't drive down for the other? Come on dude... AND I'm your older brother too.

H: Yeah but then I'm going to have to drive straight back the next day, and then 4 days later I have to drive down again when Sneh comes to town. Don't make me do it man.

K: Hey man, I really need your help. I need to take this bicycle with me. It's going to help me get so hot riding to rehearsal and back. Besides, I'm so bloody broke man.

H: Eh, don't lah.

K: Fine, I didn't think you'd help me anyway.

H: Ok fine I'll do it. You know I'll do it.

**************

We also completely forgot that it was the last Sunday of the Chinese New Year break and the highway was super-jammed. We were in bumper to bumper traffic from Melaka all the way down to Singapore. Took us almost 8 hours of driving before we reached Toshak's place in Little India. Then I had to lug the bike up to the 3rd floor, where I then remembered that one of the more important bike rules is having a bicycle lock. So we had to move the beds around and stored it in Toshak's room which is only slightly bigger than our bathroom back home (there is no need to play devil's advocate, so just accept that my bathroom isn't very big). Herukh the Valiant slept on the couch outside and the next day drove his lonesome back to KL. Toshak helped buy me a bicycle lock. The tires were flat. Great.

Anyway, the bike then went into suspended hibernation for the next 2 weeks because Toshak's place was only a temporary crash pad. I was waiting for Justin Chibai to sort out his apartment coz I was going to move in with him for the next 2 months. Besides, riding from Little India to Clementi is a little, er, far for a fat guy.

The next 2 weeks were pretty uneventful. I mean, they were plenty eventful. Herukh, Sneh, and Nikhil came down to party in Singapore with Toshak, Justin, and myself. They completely pagal-ed our lives. Way too much alcohol. My director had to pull my aside and tell me that I needed to get my shit together. I told him give me a couple of more days, my brother would go back to KL and then I'd be turning into an ascetic. Such prophetic words too, because Herukh and the gang went back to KL with a piece of my liver and things quietened down, also, I was now (and still am) officially broke. Certain entities in Malaysia and in Singapore seem to be unable to fulfill payment terms, and these delays are causing me much heartache, wallet-ache, and soon stomach ache because I've got cash for the next 3 days, and then I hope Justin's gonna feed me as well as house me... but as I was saying, the next 2 weeks were pretty uneventful.

Then Justin calls...

************
J: Eh cock!

K: What you want?

J: The apartment is ready, i'm staying there tonight. Move in tonight lah.

K: Ok cool. I need to make spare keys.

J: No need, I got two sets of keys... besides, it's some bullshit high tech key lah. I don't think can make duplicate. Just come lah. No need to make copies. You hold on to the second one.

K: Ok, I'll see you tonight, by the time I get there after rehearsal it'll be about midnight.

J: No problem, I'm a damn relaks guy lah.
**************

So after rehearsal, I take the double bus action back to Little India, pack all my shit, and I'm forced to take a midnight surcharge taxi to Justin's place. Ouch. When you are low on cash, all these little things hurt like hell. Now the real comedy begins. Justin starts showing me around his beautiful cute little 1BR swanky shag-pad in Holland Village (the Bangsar Baru of Singapore... complete with drunk 15 year old Mat Salleh/ International school brats). I ask him about the keys, and he laughs. He holds up a small round shaped plastic disc. He presses the button in the middle of this disc and the door beeps twice, and suddenly the knob catches the locking mechanism and you can twist the lock open, or closed. There is a smaller key on the keyring. He doesn't know what its for. It's not a manual override for the main door, because it doesn't have a keyhole at all. I'm studying the dynamics of the keys. We find out later that the disc is called a transponder. I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.

*********************
K: So how do you know it's out of battery?

J: I don't know

K: So what happens when it runs out of battery?

J: I don't know

K: Then how?

J: Chibai how I know?

K: This is your apartment you cock.I don't like this. I don't like this one bit. I'm an old fashioned guy. I like keys, you know?

J: There's no keyhole oso.

K: I know. I can see

I press the button on my transponder

K: Mine is not working

J: Let me try

K: Wah, you try it'll suddenly work lah. It's not fucking working.

J: It's not working.

K: Yeah I know it's not working. I think its the battery. Ok, nevermind, tomorrow after you leave I'll go and change the battery.

J: But how? If I leave, I lock the door behind me, and then you can't come out. If I leave it unlocked, you can't lock it later when you leave to buy the battery.

That's right, ladies and gents, you need the transponder to both lock and unlock the door. If the door doesn't beep, the knob just turns and turns and turns. The transponder engages the locking mechanism.

J: Actually, there is a spare battery in the owner's kit.

******************

So we go over to the owner's kit and fish out the spare battery. Things are looking up already. Then we start studying the transponders as to how to open them up, like chimpanzees using a computer. We finally get it open and change out the battery. It still doesn't work. Unsatisfied, we are curious as to whether its the battery that is weak or the transponder that is wrecked, so we open up the working on and switch out the battery as well. That's odd, the spare one still doesn't work. Now we are confused as to which battery was the flat one and which was the good one, and which transponder is the bum one, and which is the gateway to our happiness. What's not odd, what is entirely tragic, and extremely hilarious, is that now, neither transponder is working. No combination of transponder and battery is giving us the sweet sound of the double beeps of freedom. By now, it is about 1.30am... and we are locked in. In an apartment with no drinking water, no food, no gas, no tv, no dvd player, no internet, no nothing. Justin's got work at 7am. I've got rehearsal at 7pm. I'm not fussed, in fact I'm laughing. I think I jinxed him the same way I jinxed Zahir many years back on New Year's Eve when I said something along the lines of "It would be funny if the car broke down right now" and then it did and we had to walk from Ampang to Atmosphere, missed countdown, and got to the club sweating like a bad case of hyperhidrosis.

Justin isn't freaking out, but suddenly he's got an English accent and he's trying very hard to figure out how to get ourselves out of this lil' pickle...

*******************

J: Eh cock, check the user manual lah if there's anything on how to solve this problem.

K: There is a fucking user manual?

J: Yeah it's in there, I haven't read it.

K: Why are we messing around with the transponders to your front door before reading the user manual?

J: Can you just read it?

K: Ok, #1: The double-beep is the normal operating sound. It says if you hear any other kind of beep, then you should CONTACT MAINTENANCE IMMEDIATELY...

J: Ok next

K: #2: If the transponder is low on battery, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO REPLACE THE BATTERY ON YOUR OWN. CONTACT SERVICE CENTRE IMMEDIATELY...

We look at each other, smiling, because somehow, we know what's coming

K: #3: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES OPEN THE TRANSPONDER ON YOUR OWN. CONTACT SERVICE CENTRE IMMEDIATELY... Damn man, I wish we read the manual first before we tried to replace the battery.

J: Cock lah. Check if there's any numbers we can call.

K: Hey, there's a number for a 24 hour hotline..

Justin dials.

J: They are not available. They said they open at 7.

K: How is that 24 hours?

J: Fucked up lah. I hate this door.

*******************
Justin then spent the next 30 minutes sitting in front of the door, repeatedly trying out the transponders, diligently replacing the batteries over and over again, rubbing them, trying all kinds of kung fu on it. I just lay down and instagrammed him.

*******************
K: What if there was a fire right now? This apartment only has one exit.

J: Die lah, what else. All because we opened the transponders.

K: It was your idea.

J: You jinxed it.

K: Your cock lah.

J: I'm going to bed. I've left a bunch of messages (in his English accent) and I've spoken to the agent as well. We can only sort it out in the morning.
*******************

So we went to bed. Lucky there wasn't a fire. The next morning, Justin is up early and dressed. He's on the phone, English accent and all, from the moment he's away. Juggling calls between the technician from the door company, the agent, his bosses, his colleagues. It's all very amusing and very English. Finally the technician calls back and says he'll be at the house in 20 minutes. 20 minutes later we call him and he's still at the landline number that he called from, and says again that he'll be over in 20 minutes. 20 minutes later he calls from the road and says that he's stuck in traffic and he'll be there in 20 minutes. Justin is pacing back and forth in the apartment. I'm still laying down and instagramming the whole process. Documentation is important.

The technician arrives and Justin's forced to deal with him by shouting through the door and looking through they keyhole.

He asks for the transponders. Justin directs him to the side of the building so he can throw down the discs via the balcony. It's all one giant comedy right now. The technician has such a think Filipino accent that when he's shouting through the door, we can't understand what he's saying... but we did catch this part:

*******************
T: Hmmm... Did you open the transponders?

J: No, no we didn't. Not at all.

T: Well, someone opened these transponders.

J: I don't know man, one minute it was working, and then after that it wasn't.

T: Ok, but in the future, just make sure that no one opens the transponders. What's your override password?

J: What's that?

T: The master password to reset the system.

J: I don't know man, I just moved in yesterday.

T: If you don't know the master password, the only option is to call a locksmith. He'll have to drill through the lock and then we've gotta change the whole system then.

J: How much is that going to cost?

T: $625

J: Fuck that. Hold on a second.
*******************

Justin calls his real-estate agent. The conversation is surprisngly polite. Turns out the agent has to call the landlord in Canada to sort it out, but he manages to sort it out nonetheless. We've got the master password. We don't have to pay $625. Within seconds the door opens, and in comes Erwin. He's a blazing ball of Filipino energy. He's shocked that no one walked Justin through the intricacies of his company's intricate security system. We thank him, and he goes on his way. A great first night and beginning to our short time rooming together, and his tenancy in his new swanky shag-pad. Freedom at last, Justin heads off to work, and I start my day.

Toshak was super gracious the entire time I was on his floor, but I was living out of a suitcase and there just wasn't enough space in his tiny HDB flat considering his bizarre middle-aged roommate had countered Toshak's houseguest with two of his own. Unlike me, they took up a massive amount of space in the flat. In the living room all the time, dirtying up the kitchen, everything. They were messy and irritating. I was happy to move out. Besides, this was always the plan. This is home for the next 6 weeks. I've since made a trip to Ikea and i have a cute little clothes rail with all my stuff hung out, and organized neatly. A Sri Lankan sarong, a gift from Ivy Josiah, covers my clothes, removing my boxers from public view. Which is pretty redundant coz I just hang out in my boxers the whole day anyway.

A rocky start, but now I can get my grand plans for Singapore in motion. First order of business? Get that bike from Toshak's place in Little India. First I grab a bus to Orchard and stop by the $2 shop and pick up a dustbin, a whole gaggle of hangers, and various other bits and bobs. I throw them into my duffel bag, sling it across my back and it sits comfortably and will do nicely for the adventure that lays ahead: Riding the bicycle from Little India over to Holland Village. I decide to walk from Plaza Singapura to Toshak's place because I want the warm-up. It is hot and I'm sweating like... I used hyperhidrosis earlier, but take my word that its a sweaty day. Humid. Sticky. Yummy.

When I get to Toshak's place, I realise the bike's tires are completely flat. I sigh, but its ok. I check gothere.sg (A BRILLIANT APP for navigating singapore by the way) and the nearest petrol station is 3km away on Bukit Timah road. Fine. No problem. The lock comes off, the bag slings onto my bag, I give Toshak a hug (and $50 because he's broke... but I'm broke too... oh well. He was awesome), lug the bike into the lift, and then onto the road and start walking it towards the petrol stations. Two strange things happen almost immediately. First, my relatively brand new SkullCandy headphones start to break-up and get all static-y. Something is severely wrong with them, and the wire has to be contorted into all kinds of funny shapes to keep the audio running. Secondly, the chain drops off the gear. Thank God I've worked with enough bicycles on shoot to know how to thread it onto the gear again and away we go. Still not riding it though, just pushing. I look down at the bike and I think about how it's done nothing for me in the last 3 weeks except make me carry it, push it, and transport it everywhere.

After a pricey 100plus at the petrol station to rehydrate, I fill up the air in the wheels, give it a test run, a few hops here and there. As I'm filling up and testing, a car pulls up and a very snooty looking aunty walks up to me and thrusts a letter into my hand. "SINGAPORE" she says and then gets back into her car. I am confused beyond confusion. The postage is unstamped. I turn around and behind me there is a mailbox. I guess she wants me to help her mail it. I dropped the letter into the slot. Aunty didn't even wait to see what I did with it, she was long gone by the time I put 2 and 2 together.

The bike was ready to go. Mom and Dad called right before I took off, they were taking off too, on their holiday to Langkawi sempena their anniversary. Chatted for a few minutes, they wished me on my way, and I was off.

I forgot what this feels like. The challenge of negotiating live traffic on a vehicle completely powered by yourself. Timing the bursts of pedaling, the wind through my "hair", the speed, the joy of locomotion, waiting at traffic lights, yelling at cars and their bullshit. It was great. I pushed hard for 20 minutes and before I knew it, I was at Farrer Road. Perfect. There was a bike shop up ahead and no matter how broke I was, there were a few things I needed to buy regardless. So I stopped in, picked up a front and back light, and also a mirror. I declined to buy a helmet (I know, I know) because it's not actually a LAW in Singapore and I figured I'd get one in a couple of days when I get paid (hopefully, maybe, please lah pay me already dammit). Forked out $65 in a mere 10 minutes. The dude outside checked my pressure, made some corrections, and gave me a thumbs up. The bike was ready to go. I was so fucking happy you have no idea.

I got back on my horse and rode off into the housing estate. Thanks to Google Maps now, I had already plotted a more scenic route through the backroads that would bring me right to our apartment complex. It would have been much faster to get back on the main roads, but I wanted the extra time on the bike, and negotiating the uphills and curvy windy roads would be fun, great for the fitness, and I needed as much practice as I could. I was so rusty. Zoooooooom. So. Fucking. Fun.

As I committed to the scenic route, I looked up and watched the storm clouds swirl overhead as I've seen happen on shoots after we tell the bomoh it's a wrap. I predicted rain within 15 minutes. I was about 6 to 10 minutes away from the apartment. I switched up through the gears and found the uphill selection, the bike seemed reluctant to commit to an incline-friendly ratio. Then I heard the familiar chin-chin-chin-CHING as the gear's teeth finally bit and then a most sickening sound.

It was the sound of metal shredding, not dissimilar to the sound of a car accident. The shearing of atoms that really wanted to stay together, but something has decided NO and will not accept anything else. The kind of sound where you know the dream is over. Like a hamstring popping on the final stretch of a marathon. The whole bike started to shudder, something was caught in the wheel. There was no resistance in the pedals. I heard the chain scraping the air. Without even looking down, I knew what had happened. The entire gear system had been ripped off the chassis of the bike and was now dangling, caught between the rear spokes. I was well committed into the scenic route by now, and not only was it scenic, it was long... and uphill... and apart from the last 30 minutes of riding, I was now pushing the bicycle. Again. Someone really needs to send that bike a memo. Talk about unclear on the concept, eh bicycle???

Then, the sound of thunder. The wet of rain. Great. As I pushed my way back to Justin's place, I called Farouk and explained the situation to him. He laughed in sympathy, but also mostly in thanks because now he had the perfect excuse to buy a new bike. *sigh*

As I squished forward in my wet shoes, the rain turned out to be a cooling relief from the heat of the day as well as all the anger boiling up in me as my recollection of the events leading up to this point cycled very pointedly through my head. The agonizing search for the bicycle, borrowing it from Farouk, emotionally blackmailing my brother, giving up my RM90 Odyssey bus ticket, the 8 hour drive to Singapore, the money that I didn't have that I spent on the lock and the reflective strips and the mirrors and the front light and the back light (those last purchases not more than 10 minutes before the accident), the guilt from not buying a helmet, the 5km from Orchard to Little India to Bukit Timah in mid-day sun, and now, stuck again pushing the bicycle uphill through the rain. It was so tragic I just started laughing to myself.

As I pushed on through, I realised that I was walking through a really upscale neighbourhood. There were some amazing houses. Some were ugly and made me laugh at them. The poor rich people with their money and ugly houses.

HA HA HA HA HA I laughed from the safe rain-filled confines of my broken bike and my iPhone 3gs (which by the way, almost impossible to buy accessories for it in Singapore because everyone here is OH so iPhone 4 where have you BEEN all of last seasonnnnn?). Then there were houses that made me if not want to work harder, then at least marry rich.

One small saving grace was that I could still use the bike to coast downhill, so every opportunity I got, I was on it, and glided through the wet. Silently. Without pedalling. Now the bike is sitting in the carpark downstairs. I'm not sure it's going to see the light of day again. Justin doesn't want it, I think, I'll ask him tomorrow. It's going to be way too expensive to fix. Ripping gears off the chassis? Maybe in Malaysia I'd have a fighting chance. In Singapore where a frikkin' Hazelnut Magnum costs $4? Until I get paid, everything is on hold (pay me lah please lah please lah). It's funny though, the bike was as much a cost saving exercise as anything, but with all the money I spent on gear and getting it down to Singapore in the first place, it's still exponentially cheaper to use the bus to get to rehearsal every day. All I need to do is top-up my bus pass every so often and not forget my umbrella. I already carry a spare pair of headphones, so I'm sorted there.

Here is a self-portrait of the artist as a dumbfuck, stuck in the rain, with a broken bike.

I guess it wasn't mean't to be, eh?

Time/Travelling

2011-01-26T12:16:00.003+08:00

The last time I was on stage, as an actor, was in Dramalab's 2004 offering of Haresh Sharma's "Otak Tak Centre". Actually, Haresh's play is called "Off Centre" but we had made certain adaptations to the original literature and wanted to rebrand it for a more nusanta-ric gravitas. Anyone can call someone off centre, but it takes some real local knowledge to tell them WOI LU OTAK TAK CENTRE LAH NYAMAH

So it has been 7 years since I walked away from the Malaysian arts scene and reinvented myself as a filmmaker. By filmmaker I mean I work as a 1st AD shooting TV commercials (which means by filmmaker I mean that sell cigarettes to your children). I've also directed a short film, a mockumentary, and a few commercials of my own. I've worked with Oscar winners, BAFTA winners, and more sociopathic losers than I care to remember. I've slept with my models, sucked up to directors, driven very expensive cars, and had more helicopters in my life than I could ever have imagined. They also pay me very nicely. I don't wear a tie to work, I still don't even know how to tie one really. I mostly wear slippers and shorts. I get to use knives. Awesome.

I joined production for three reasons, two of them were the absolute wrong ones.

#1. I was in a pretty serious relationship at the time and my girlfriend kept breaking up with me for very arbitrary (to me) reasons. One of them was GET A REAL JOB (hey acting is a job ok). Production flitted past my consciousness. She eventually flitted out of my life.

#2. I distinctly recalled someone telling me how much directors get paid. Some of them upwards of RM20,000 per shoot day.

#3. I wanted to explore filmmaking and figured that advertising production would be a nice mix of business and art, a 50-50 split of creativity and being able to make my car payments. In retrospect, this is completely untrue. The ratio is more like 99% business, 1% art.

So yeah, you figure out which ones were the wrong reasons. Luckily, the stars were aligned and it has proven to be a career, rather than a pothole or detour on the path to job satisfaction. That being said, when you sell enough cigarettes to children, or fast food to fat people, or skin whitening products to dark Indian girls, the karma is going to build up like plaque on a homeless guys teeth. After 7 years of it, I know how to do my job and I'm proud to say I'm good at it, but I'm tired of being subjected to the inane arguments, the complete lack of logic, the abuses of power, and in some cases, the complete inhumanity of the advertising production, and the larger advertising industry. To call it completely inhumane is not hyperbole either, which is scary. In order to maintain a positive relationship with my skill set, I'm trying to branch out away from TVCs and do other stuff. Last year I shot a big Hollywood feature, this year there will be another feature hopefully... and a return to the theatre.

The nature of this project is quite interesting because in actual fact, it's a student play. So all my co-actors are around 21 years old, in this the year that I hit 30. Thus I am the OLD GUY in the room. It's also in Singapore, so I find myself temporarily relocated to the Lion City for the next 2 months. There are many exciting things about this because I think Singapore is a pretty vibrant place, even if the people who live here AND the people who spend all their time judging it never get a chance to experience it for what it is. Pre-Conceived Notions WIN. House hunting, or rather, room researching in Singapore has proven to be rather difficult because a majority of the classifieds that are going up all say pretty much the same thing:

"ALL RACES OK EXCEPT INDIAN"

which sucks because I am, jeng jeng jeng, Indian. I mean, I'm Malaysian, first and foremost. It's how I argue with these racist real estate agents, home owners, and anyone else who will listen. I'm not Indian. I'm Malaysian... but in multicultural Singapore (and Malaysia, lets be honest) race is how we understand anything about our fellow men and women. If we can't pigeonhole you, then we have to go out on a limb and actually invest trust and good faith in someone. Renting your room out to a smelly, drunk Indian who is going to cram a bunch of his smelly spice-eating friends into the broom closet wouldn't sit well with me as a landlord, considering you guys are all here illegally ANYWAY. Bastards.

Singapore is super green and I can't wait to go for some early morning runs here. I've always been a fan of the neat and tidyness, despite however many robots were killed in the process. I also like the usage of English in signage. As we drove over the Second Link there was a sign saying "BEWARE OF DROP DOWN BARRIER AND CATS CLAW" and it took me a good 45 seconds to extrapolate to the Nth degree what the hell that meant. I'm guessing cats claw is like that anti-tank stuff that pops out of the ground and rips your undercarriage out for being naughty naughty... but it always makes me wonder, how does Mr. Tong Wai Loon, bastion of the West Coast Heartlands, understand and process this kind of signage? I'm not sure he gets what a cat's claw is. I don't mean to put him down, but hey, what the hell IS it?

End of January and I've already started my travels for the year and I couldn't be happier. I could definitely be happier, but I couldn't be happier. The general plan for this year also includes London, Scotland, and lots and lots of Prague. Hopefully there will be others in there too, and the time for me to spend some time in KL before I have to disappear to Europe.

Filed under "Things That Make Me Go Hmmm" was getting on to the bus this morning. I rock up at the bus station and who but Joe Hasham, Faridah Merican, Gavin Yap are all on the same bus to Singapore. They are here to stage a play called "Someone to Watch Over Me". I found it quite apt that on my first morning, first day back to theatre, I run into a gaggle of theatre folk. Imagine how much happier I'd be if I said I was making a return to exotic dancing. Now THATS what I called a bus ride. Better topless dancers than KL theatre folk. No offense, guys.

Excuse the rambly, pointless post. It's mostly just a warmup to a hopefully more active blog for the next few months. All in all, it feels really exciting to be part of a creative process again that has nothing to do with the size of a logo or what color the chocolate milk needs to be (hint: brown). I have full faith in Huzir Sulaiman, the director, to fully kick my mental ass during rehearsals. If I focus and get this right, and by this I mean stay entirely in the moment, I think there is only a better koobz at the end of the tunnel. Normally I'd heap so much pressure on myself about OHMANKOOBZ REMEMBER TO *STAY* IN THE MOMENTTTTTT but even then, whatever this turns out to be, it will be what it has turned out to be.

My posts are a lot less fun when I'm not writing about being drunk, eh?

More details about the play to follow.... later on today or tomorrow that is.

Much Love,

K

A Worrying Trend

2010-02-17T16:56:00.004+08:00

I've only ever been to Twilight Action Girl @ BarSonic once. Yes yes, I know. I KNOW.

LanSiBuk convinced me to tag along with him and Kim Jong Ill so I got them to pick me up and off we went to Zouk. We got there damn early lah, about 10pm. I don't think I've ever been to a club so early before. Actually I always say that when I go to clubs early. I've definitely been to clubs earlier before, but usually because of some kind of extenuating circumstance. I think its safe to say that it was the earliest I've ever been to a club without some kind of extenuating circumstance.

These two monkeys had been raving about TAG for so long, which is strange because they are actually kinda old, but they've found their 2nd wind of partying (my wind has passed baddaBING) and I'm happy for them. They were so excited to see the bartender, the bouncer, the DJ, the corner next to the speaker, and then when they were done saying hi to the rest of the furniture... it dawned on them that we were in a completely empty club at 10pm.

Bring on the mafakin'jugs of Long Island Ice Tea YO. This turns out to be the beverage de rigueur of the TAGalongs because it is lethal, cheap, and comes in a jug so you can poke a buncha straws in there, throw Hepatitis and other disease caution to the wind and drink as much of it as fast as you can so you can fuel the crazy dancing that you are about to do.

Now, as some of you may know, I'm actually a whinging whining princess and the older I'm getting I'm also getting a lot crankier. For example, when it comes to alcohol, i know EXACTLY what I want to drink. Back in the old days, I'd drink anything you served me, or if you asked me what I wanted, I'd be mixing liquors, beers, and mixers all through the night. This wanton disregard for certain well established schools of thought for long term binge drinking was never an issue till my liver started hurting one NYE a coupla years back and the sudden prevalence of face-tearing hangovers these days. So I know what I want to drink: Guinness and/or Whisky. Mixer will always either be Soda, Water, or increasingly, neat.

No thanks I don't want a sip of your vodka lime or do i plan on helping you finish your whisky coke. The thing about being picky with my alcohol has less to do with the alcohol than it has to do with the mixers. Let's say I've had 7 whisky cokes through the course of the night. My issue is less to do with having 7 whiskies (why not more, i want to know) but entirely with drinking 7 glasses of Coca-Cola. Do you know what that shit DOES to you? Fruit juices and soft drinks are so full of unnecessaryness that before you know it you can't tell your alcohol high from your sugar high and the hangover the next day is frikkin' legendary. I find that drinking Whisky+Water the whole night ensures hydration and simultaneous dehydration. It's the perfect drink really.

But the worrying trend in question is my sudden obsession with LEAVING parties or the club while I'm at the HEIGHT of my intoxication. I have yet to be able to control this, usually because it is a problem that occurs while my judgement is at its most impaired. The modus operandi is like this... I'll drink drank and before I get too drunk and start passing out in public or worse, I up and LEAVE. So far I've been good, I've managed to tell one person each time and then *POOF* I'm gone. Which leaves entire groups of people wondering where my awesomeness has absconded too, but also loved ones worrying that hey, that drunk asshole just left with his car keys. OH NO.

TAG was going full swing, we were dancing like maniacs, my white hat from David Wardrobe Stylist was a big hit and all was good. Ran into Doubl-EFF and he told me not to tell his girlfriend he was there. All the Freeform girls were there, doing their Freeform thing. If there's a clique that "rules" KL right now, it's those girls HOLLAAAA. Anyway. Dance drink dance drink then I decided "I'm leaving" and went up to LanSiBuk and told him. He was busy screaming into a speaker and I left Zouk.

CUT

Mid-Shot of Koobz walking up to Storm Rider at Frangipani, drink in hand, shouting at the top of his voice.

K: Oi Chinaman!

S: Tiu! Indian Keling!

K: Hahahaha laugh laugh catchup catchup

S: Catchup laugh Did you know your brother is next door? laugh catchup

K: Oh really? Fantastic, I need a ride home

and then I left Frangipani, crossed the street, and went over to Pinchoz. Lo and behold, Herukh and a buncha other cousins were there, drinking and having a good time. I walked up to my bros and told them that I needed a ride home but they were like "oh no man, we just got here, we are having such a damn good time, we aren't leaving soon, why don't you chill etc" but I was feeling so uncomfortable being so publicly drunk (weird right? me? uncomfortable? public drunkenness? i'm getting old) that I decided that I'll just grab and cab and be done with it.

I told my brothers I'd be back, went outside, negotiated the taxi driver down from daylight robbery to evening robbery in a dark side street (which means it was acceptable) and off I went home. Total time spent in Changkat Bukit Bintang... about 30 mins? 15 mins at Frangipani catching up with the Chinaman, and then 15 with my bros trying to get a ride home.

Not bad right? End of a good night, right? Did the right thing, took a cab, sorted myself out... RIGHT?

WRONGGGGGGGG.

*********************************************

The next dayyyyy, I wake up with a solid frikkin' hangover and I already know what's to blame. Bad mixer discipline from the night before. Then I get a phone call from StormRider and he's laughing at me. I paraphrase the conversation:

S: Do you know what you were doing last night?

K: Er, did I set my chest hair on fire again? I don't think so. I remember seeing you and then you told my bros were next door then we chatted for a while and I left.

S: No, you were so drunk you were just completely swearing at me over and over again and my friends were wondering what the hell was your problem. Then you started making fun of one of my friends and it was a girl and you were really rude to her, you were saying all kinds of nonsense to her lah. You were in Frangipani for about 45 minutes pissing everyone off.

K: oh shit! I'm sooo sorry man! I don't even remember that!

S: Yeah, you were really drunk man. You could barely stand up straight, but anyway, I explained to them that you aren't really like that and they thought you were just a drunk idiot.

K: I can live with that.

I try to shake my headache away but I realise that shaking ones head doesn't help the situation AT ALL. I wake up and go to the toilet and stop by Herukh's room when I'm done just to chat. He's in bed, but makes it a point of waking up to talk to me.

H: Do you know what you were doing last night?

K: When I came to see you? I didn't do anything what. I was there like 10 minutes.

H: 10 MINUTES!? Londu! 10 MINUTES! What damage you were doing! You were completely fucked!

K: No way man

H: First of all, you were in Pinchoz for like 45 minutes. Then Sheena (my BEAUTIFUL cousin) started talking to you and was asking you about how she could get into commercials and you told her that she was too short, and the industry was too racist and basically she doesn't have a face for TV really and she should just concentrate on being a lawyer.

K: *silence*

H: THEN, after I pulled you away from that situation, I told you that you were so drunk and misbehaving, so you responded by singing the ROCKY theme song and started running up the flight of 8 steps at the bar re-enacting the staircase scene from Rocky. You'd get to the top and then do 10 push ups, sing the song, shout "CAN A DRUNK PERSON DO THAT?" then run down and then do it all over again.

K: *silence*

H: So when you said "I want to go home by taxi" we were the most relieved and gladly let you go by your drunkself. By that point it didn't matter where you went.

K: Should I call Sheena and apologize?

H: Whatever, they all think you are some kind of weirdo from the start, so it doesn't matter. I said sorry for you last night anyway.

K: Shit

H: You were nuts. You are too funny when you get so fucked up. You have no idea what the hell you are doing.

********

Oh man. What the hell happened last night?

After my shower, I put on my jeans and started heading out the door to work when I checked my pockets to reveal:

1. A valet ticket for Lot 10
2. A receipt for a pack of cigarettes and some mints from Lot 10... time, 01.30am

WAIIIIITTTTTTAMINUTE. Then it dawned on me. I wasn't even DRIVING that night. How the hell did I get from Zouk to Frangipani (it is definitely not walking distance)? WHY in the WORLD do I have a valet ticket from Lot 10 (which is neither where Zouk OR Frangipani is... completely different place) and WHY do I have a receipt for a pack of smokes when I haven't smoked in ages?

According to Lan SiBuk i left Zouk slightly after midnight, which is correct, and according to Storm Rider I arrived in Frangipani slightly after 2.30am... What happened in those 2 hours? How did I end up at Lot 10? Who was I with? How was I getting around?

AND THATS what I'm worried about.

I go out. I get drunk. I leave without telling people. I lose a few hours in the night. Don't remember anything... and... and...

This is why I don't go out that much anymore. My alcohol tolerance has dropped, i've become a cheap date, but since I'm always dating myself and I earn so much more money, I keep plying myself with drinks with the knowledge that even if I'm unlucky the whole night and don't get anywhere with anyone, I can always take myself home and score with Koobz.

But if you saw me that night, hanging out at Lot 10 and/or Roots by myself looking completely dazed and confused... do let me know. Or better yet, don't ever tell me.

The Subtle Cringe

2010-02-15T20:02:00.004+08:00

I would say that I'm an expert on reading body language and subtle communication cues.

I wouldn't say its because I'm a communications major (I dropped out). I also wouldn't say its because I like looking at bodies (which I do... I majored in it, unofficially).

I would be hard pressed to say where this skill/curse came from but I will say that I'm constantly aware of it and my body language radar is always working, well serviced, and beeping like a smoke alarm on crack.

All that being said, I've become so aware of the subtle cringe that Indonesians experience when they end up in conversation with me.

A flash. A hint of shoulders being raised as a quicksilver reaction passes over their face. Like someone made them sniff smelling salts, garbage truck on a hot day flavor but the penalty for reacting was DEATH, so they switch back to their normal smiling selves.

They are reacting to Malaysia.

They are reacting to the bastardized version of their language that I'm trying to adapt and bastardize so I can make myself be understood more efficiently, basically cutting out the middle man who translates spoken English that lives in their head.

They are reacting to my accent. They are reacting to my LAH. They are reacting to how familiar I am to so many things about their culture yet completely unfamiliar to things that should just MAKE SENSE seeing that I understand so many other things WHY DON'T YOU JUST FUCKING GET THIS PART HUH?

They are reacting to stories of maid abuse. They are reacting to other Malaysian production folk who swing through Jakarta, swinging their cocks and pocketing as much money as they can, as cockily as they can. The swagger. The arrogance.

But mostly they react, process, and then put that past them, because hopefully I'm different. Hopefully I'm polite (I'm a walking school of mafakin' etiquette), and hopefully if they don't laugh or react too hard then by the time this asshole leaves he'll have some kind of working knowledge of how to converse in Bahasa Indonesia. They certainly try very hard to please, not offend, and just generally be thought of as being nice people. It works. I definitely think they are nice.

Honestly I think Bahasa Malaysia makes their ears bleed. They can't handle it. Everyone cringes. From taxi drivers to chicks I'm trying to pick up at Karaoke joints to PAs that I'm sending off on wild goose chases to look for the specific type of cable I'm missing. So I spent the whole morning being really self-conscious about trying not to sound like an idiot or make people sniff rubbish and it was really frustrating. I felt like some kind of stupid school kid who hadn't done his homework, or someone who shits themselves in class and just kinda sits there and hopes that the smell doesn't make anyone turn around because clearly moving will alert them to the brown stain and you know that any disturbance of the shit will make people smell it and turn around and THAT would be a problem.

The solution was, at lunch, to have a beer... and then call my producer and her PA on it.

Me: You guys cringe when i talk, do you realise?

Her: Noooo, why do you say that?

Me: You just did it :)

Her: hahahahahahahha. No comment

then we got to talking and the solution to this problem is to firstly work on my accent and my Bahasa Indonesia as quickly as I can but also to stop worrying about the cringing. It is inevitable, and has to do with historical and cultural differences, problems, and arguments that have nothing to do with me. Maybe they have everything to do with me, but someone's gotta point that out to me so I can realise it. WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE, SOME KIND OF MIND READER?

I've always wanted to say that line, while shouting at a woman... I'm yet to come across the perfect opportunity to let it rip. I hope I get to do so at some point in this life.

A completely unrelated thing about Jakarta though is that they build all the way up to the street. It is decidedly a very unfriendly place to be a pedestrian, and you can't really see what's going on in the shops or the houses because the walls are so high up and actually you are very close to them.

Then you get behind the wall, or you walk through the door, and the most amazing spaces lay behind them. Had lunch at a place called Payon in Kemang earlier and it was absolutely stunning. I'm lazy to describe why it was stunning without sounding like some kind of Indonesian travelogue but the architecture was very Javanese and there was an amphitheater in the garden where a drum circle were rehearsing and just groovin' and the rhythm was just RIGHT. First the soundtrack to the meal was the percussion, then the skies darkened and it began to rain heavily. The doomDOOmChakdoomChak was replaced with the sound of fat raindrops crashing down on the clay tiled roof as well as hitting the pond that snaked around the restaurant. Everyone ate in silence for a while and we just watched the rain and ate some crazyDelicious Javanese food.

I'm meeting an old friend tonight to tokkok singsong. I'm going to get homey to break it down for me and learn some key phrases so I can get my shwerve on without making people cringe. They are definitely going to cringe, but maybe it'll be so subtle that it'll escape my radar.

That's all I'm asking for, really :)

Some bad pics of Payon that doesn't do it any justice.

Jakarta, Koobz... Koobz, Jakarta. Play nice.

2010-02-14T03:32:00.001+08:00

A two hour flight delayed two hours means you take off when you were supposed to land and that all the time and anger and effort you spent rushing to the airport was in vain because you weren’t late… you were too early.

Everything about the flight was miserable to say the least. I wasn’t only proverbially stuck sitting in front of the proverbial crying infant, I was very literally stuck in front of said child. Loud uncontrolled wails with sharp kicks into the back of my chair with parents who decided that they were going to take the “leave the kid alone” approach. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I felt bad for the little girl actually. She was miserable.

The stewardesses were hot. I managed to flirt with one of them. The flight was bumpy with lots of turbulence. My mind was clouded with thoughts of the pressures I’m heaping on myself for this trip. Pressures related to how I’m going about selling myself while I sell my soul. How do I negotiate the two? Why am I still worried about negotiating the two when clearly my soul was sold ages ago?

As we descended into Jakarta, the clouds were thick and full of lightning and the plane was rockin’ like something that didn’t want you to come knockin’. They turned all the lights off and the EXIT signs came on… I’ve never seen that lighting scenario on a plane before. It was a little spooky. They even turned the floor strips on.

Then I looked out the window and saw a sea of fireworks exploding all over the city. There were at least 40 different sites, erupting into bright gunpowder circles. The ones closer to the sea were being reflected into the water.

Upon landing, Pak Rais was standing at the gate waiting for me. He took my passport, ushered me through the diplomatic lane, and my bag was waiting for me. Took me less than 15 minutes from the plane to the car.

It was quite the welcome.

Hello Jakarta.

This is going to be fun ☺

so proud

2009-09-26T23:12:00.002+08:00

today, instead of running, i ate a giant plate of nasi lemak and went to sleep.

amen

k

forgot

2009-09-07T12:16:00.000+08:00

forgot to do my push ups this morning, remembered while i was soaping up in the shower...

will do 'em when i come home tonight.

aiming for the same set as the post below.

booked my holiday to bangkok! awesome prices... RM1000 for flights, airport transfer, and 6d/5N at a small boutique hotel in sukhumvit.

yayyyyyyy

Late For Work

2009-09-05T11:04:00.002+08:00

If I don't have time for exercise, at least I can start watching what I eat a little.

Last 2 days have been very measured and disciplined, lots of veg, minimal carb... but there was that one slice of chocolate marshmallow cheesecake. It wasn't a very big slice.

4 days ago i was 93kg

This morning I'm 89.8kg

I think that's some kind of water retention thing. I don't know how I go 3+ kg in 3 days. That's crazy.

Anyway, today's exercise was:

3 Sets of:
10 x Pushups
10 x Sit ups
10 x Squats
10 x Samsons
10 x Figure Eights

and it felt really easy. So tomorrow lets do that as quick as we can!

who is this we that has crept into my grammar?

why am i blogging if i'm late for work?

k

Big Fat Bastard

2009-09-03T11:17:00.003+08:00

I'm going to attempt to resuscitate my blog. I'm not doing it because I'm frustrated with 140 characters. I'm not doing it because I now have so much time. I'm not doing it because I'm taking blogging tuition.

I'm doing it because the State of The Union of Koobz is going through some sort of food-induced emergency.

On the 30th of June, I participated in the Standard Chartered Kuala Lumpur Marathon where i ran the Half-Marathon (21km) and completed it. Took me more than 3 hours, but i finished the damn thing. I weighed 83kg.

This last month of being busy at work (which is great for the wallet and the stomach, coz of all the free food) and not going for regular runs has led me to BALLOONING. No really, I mean BALLOONING. As of last night I was 93.2kg!

GEEEZZZZZZZus what the HELL is going on here? 10.2kg!!!!

So, this is me, attempting to right this wrong and to get back to the low 80's, and while I'm there, let's get to the mid 70's.

Why the hell did I let this happen....

*sigh*

K

Vote For Change

2009-04-20T17:00:00.002+08:00

Today is the last day to make a difference.

Head over to http://www.askcleo.com.my/campaigns/eb09/vote.html to cast your vote. There is no limit to how much you can vote, so there is no limit to how much you can make a difference.

:)

This has been such a hilarious and wonderful experience. Thank you CLEO! You ladies have been brilliant :)

VOTE #45!

Kubhaer, CLEO Bachelor #45 on the Fairly Current Show

2009-04-16T12:58:00.001+08:00

Kubhaer, CLEO Bachelor #45 on the Fairly Current Show

It's crunchtime people. It's time to take voting to the next level.

Vote Koobz. Vote #45. Vote for Change.

Yummy

2009-04-01T00:13:00.001+08:00

Yummy, originally uploaded by koobz.

You know whats HILARIOUS? I'm one of CLEO Malaysia's 50 Eligible Bachelors 2009!

The Mexican lovechild of Bob Hoskins and Danny DeVito...

More here. Look for #45:

www.askcleo.com.my/campaigns/eb09/index.html

You can vote me in for subsidiary titles. I want to win "Tastiest Looking Bachelor".

Vote Koobz. Vote #45. Vote for Change.

This Poster was Designed by Nisha K.

*************

Ben: we should have drugged him and peed on him in the ocean

Koobz: i fucking hate that guy

Ben: I like intensity.

Koobz: so do you think i'm going to find the chinese girl of my dreams now that i'm a cleo bachelor?

Ben: yeah totally

Ben: no

Ben: i know a guy who was one of people magazines most eligible bachelors like 5 years ago

Koobz: did he marry rich?

Ben: no

Ben: he would tell people 'did you know i was one of people magazines most eligible bachelors and they would respond with hahahaha bullshit

Ben: he is also kind of a fat guy w/ a blog

Koobz: i'm a fat guy with a blog

Ben: yep, so don't get your hopes up haha

Koobz: hahahahahahaha

****************

Done

2009-02-18T16:15:00.003+08:00

It's done.

I just served my letter of resignation and my last day of work will be the 28th of February... then I will be an entrepreneur and freelance director/ AD/ Whatever you want me to be.

Right now, I'm free :)

The Wrath

2009-02-18T01:46:00.001+08:00

The Wrath, originally uploaded by [n].

So the deluge of public holidays has finally ended and Malaysians can now return to complete work weeks and the knowledge that all the shops are back open and that the guy from accounting who has to approve the final payments is back from his 2 week leave.

How did it go?

Christmas - New Years - Chinese New Year - FT Day - Thaipusam

I'm not complaining. After 4 years of working every public holiday that came my way, including every one in 2008, it was nice to dodge some bullets and have some time off.

Now its down to serious business and I've gone ahead and done something that I've been meaning to do for two years... no better time to do it than in the midst of the gravest economic conditions the world has faced in a looooong long time... I've quit my job.

So far I've verbally gone through the motions. Tomorrow I put it in writing and then work out the terms of the notice and all the outstanding stuff.

What will I do instead? I've got a plan, but it is too sensitive and too tedious to explain on a blog, for the time being. Not to be too cliffhangery, I will say that my brother and I are starting a business together and the freedom from having to work a 9-Whatever-Time-You-Finish is that I get to set how I spend my day, and what I'm devoting my schedule to... means I get to give this new business the due attention which it definitely NEEDS and DESERVES (otherwise why bother trying to start something anyway).

So good luck to me. Good luck to you.

P.s' I'm so tired of the cliche Thaipusam pictures. I love the shot attached to this post by [n]. I keep hearing big booming kettle drums and ominous sounding horns whenever I look at it. DUH DUH DUH DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Fatty Fatty Bom Bom

2009-01-28T03:35:00.002+08:00

The fatty bom bommery that overcame my life in December has YET to come to an end.

Today I ate TWO prosperity burgers... thank god I opted for no curly fries on both accounts and at least I'm exercising again.

That being said, I've put on 7 kilos since Dec 1st. DAMN KOOBZ!

ok ok ok

tomorrow I get back on the quinoa. Enough of this gluttony

Now for a poker update of the game in Klang...

EVERYONE from the office cobra-ed. Congratulations guys! You lived up to your lofty expectations.

Anyway, I went (pork and poker, remember?) and had some awesome pork and then had an awesome game and won RM200. I was the big winner for the night and very happy about how it all went. It was nice to go to Dare's house and take all his money from him... coz last week Dare played poker for the first time and took RM450 for us, but he cleaned us out... he took the WHOLE pot. No one could cash out. They didn't make it to the door. Dare killed it.

I did feel bad about taking Chonson's money though. She's such a sweetie patootie.

Gong Xi Fa Cai (gimme all yer money)

2009-01-26T23:07:00.002+08:00

My littlest brother is obsessed with his iPod touch. He's also obsessed with his Nintendo Wii, the best of YouTube, photo tagging on Facebook, and Texas Hold 'Em Poker.

How the hell did Texas Hold'Em become so gawdamn popular? It's been taking over KL for at least a solid year now, and its really picking up steam this Chinese New Year.

I had resisted for a long time, just like I try to resist so many things that have a strong popular groundswell to them. I guess sometimes I like to think that I'm cooler than everyone else; so if 10 people are taking part in something, then they must be the masses and and stupid, and because I don't partake in the masses, then I am cool and special and unique.

WRONG

Hold' Em is frikkin awesome. In fact, I'm only writing this blog between hands on a 90 player Sit n' Go tournament on Full Tilt poker (download the app from http://www.fulltilt.com)

*********15 minutes later***********

OK, I lost.

FUCK.

Now I'm pissed off because I'm trying to teach myself patient poker playing, to stop giving in to the tantazlingly big pots that may come up. Then I didn't want to blog because I'm all pissed off, but then I remembered that I'm blogging as a writing exercise, so that I can get use to WRITING again... rather than the normal sell-cigarettes-to-your-children work that I do. SO I'm going to continue blogging for tonight. Where was I? Oh yeah. So now I'm addicted to poker, which is brilliant, considering I'm quitting smoking, cutting down on drinking and womanizing... nothing like a little gambling to fill up all my free time.

I picked up the gambling bug sometime in 2008 when my Roti Canai Crazy Cousins from New York came to visit and on a whim we decided to show them Genting. Hercules and myself had never been to the casino before and figured that this would be a great time to ch-ch-ch-check it out... so upward ho to Ringding (which is what Roti Canai Crazy Cousin #2 kept calling it because he's soooooo American).

I was my normal frugal self and decided to only play RM100, and picked roulette because hey, how hard could it be to pick RED or BLACK? We kept going like this on the RM5 bet tables until I was down to my last chip and said ohhhwadahell, i'll just pick a number and lets see what 'eppens.

1 Red, straight up.

I hit, and the payout was 35:1. for a RM5 bet, i made RM175.

SO MANY CHIPS!

WAHHHHHHH! I knew something was wrong, instantly. Something had clicked inside my head. An employee of my Brain had just checked the box next to "GAMBLING" on the clipboard of my life. I was hooked.

I gave Hercules some chips and then ka-ching, HE hit. It was ON like the Kong of Donkeys. My RCCCousins were done playing and were getting bored, but my bro and I sat there like proper losers and kept going and going and going. I ended up winning around RM1000 off of my initial RM100 investment, and Hercules did even better. Beginner's luck is a bitch though, because not more than TWO WEEKS LATER, we were feeling rich and itchy again so we took a late night trip up to the Highlands at 11pm with a car full of dudes and found ourselves at the casino. That was a pretty bad night. My first RM100 was gone in less than 10 minutes. Not long after, I was down RM200... and then RM500.

WHY DO THEY HAVE ATMS IN CASINOS!!!!????

Which was a really bad idea, because it was a tight month in the first place. I was interested in winning a free car payment for the month since i didn't really have money for much else, and there I was RM500 in the hole. No free car payment, but further compounded by No utilities, No cable bill, and No phone bill for the month.

Hercules was freaking out. The carload of friends were being irritating and saying we should head back. It was about 3am. It felt disgusting. It felt really irresponsible, slightly illegal, and I felt like my parents would ground me. The only solution was to win it back with the last RM20 I had in my fanny pack.

Maybe it was the fanny pack? Maybe the Gods of Gambling and the Ghouls of Genting were getting back at me for being so arrogant as to bring a fanny pack to the casino, in hopes of putting all my winnings in there, like some kind of old Taiwanese woman.

As an aside, did you know that Genting has a reputation for being one of the most haunted places in the country? Apparently from the slew of troubled souls who have hurled themselves off the side of the mountain from crippling gambling debts. The casino is said to be FULL of ghosts, heck the whole damn resort is said to be haunted beyond belief. They say that the regular gamblers always carry sweets in their pockets for the ghouls hiding under the tables. Keeps them from munching on your chips.

ANYWAY, I ditched my brother and the friends, turned off my phone, and found a table in the corner of the room and sat down and bet VERY carefully, and slowly but slowly but never surely but definitely slowly won my money back, and finally left Genting at 5am with my winnings for the evening...

RM30.

Which was less than what it cost me to drive up there in the first bloody place, but at least I was 30 up and not 500 down... and I had my dignity. Which is a lie. Coz I lost my dignity too.

We haven't been back since, but that initial joy of winning lots of money was what turned me on to even being receptive to listening to my 12 year old brother explaining to me how Hold 'em Poker works. A few weeks later we hosted a poker night for the cousins, a small RM25 buy in at 50sen a chip. I think I lost RM75, but I was definitely hooked. A few months later, I've now played poker for 4 nights in a row, thanks to this glorious holiday called Chinese New Year.

God Bless the Chinese for their love of pork, their beautiful women, and their unabashed worship of prosperity and money. Chinese people LOVE their gambling, so there has been a lot of poker invitations floating around recently. I'm proud to say that I'm up so far. Not much, I've won about RM200 in the last coupla days, but it's still better than being in the red. Today alone I played two different sessions with two different groups of people.

Tomorrow will be a big night. Heading down to Klang, the Den of Lions, for a kick-ass game with one of the producers from work at his family's open house. That will be some proper Chinese New Year kungfu shit going down. His family, who are from Klang, are making some homemade bak kut teh, followed by some gambling.

Yes.
Yes.
YES.

pork and poker.

like whisky and ice.

yummy.

I don't like the structure of this post. I feel like I'm rambling... but at least I blogged, and my fingers got a work out.

Happy Chinese New Year of the Ox. Let's hope everything works out this year. Obama's in power, the world is on tenterhooks, and the summer of my discontent is proving to be most humid and sweaty.

peace

Skinnamarinky Dinky Dink

2009-01-20T23:11:00.002+08:00

Mira, the gorgeous photographer/socialite/fashionista tagged me in a very interesting note about herself today where she revealed her love for Sharon, Lois, and Bram's Elephant show and it instantly hurtled me back in time to my days of sitting in front of the tv (which NEVER had clear reception... not for my first 15 years of my life did I have clear television) and singing along to SKINNAMARINKY DINKY DINKKKKKKK SKINNAMARINKY DOOOO

What an awesome show it was. It made me remember all kinds of other brilliant shows I used to watch as a kid.

Oh oh.

WATCH OUT!

HERE COMES THE 80'S RETRO TV SHOW INTRO/OUTRO VIDEOS c/o YOUTUBE!

First comes Fraggle Rock, which has such a... hmmm, lack of a better word... ROCKING theme song.

Next up, Gummi Bears! I used to have a crush on the blonde one. I guess my thing for short haired girls started young, eh? eh?

What about Duck Tales? D-D-D-Danger lurks behind you! There's a stranger out to find you! Actually ah, ACTUALLY AH... why are these theme songs so damn good? Just listen to the quality of the vocals, the instrumentation, everything. These were really good songs. What the hell has happened to the quality TV show theme song? Gone going gone everything gone giveadamn.

StarCom was underrated but overawesome. The big "technological breakthrough" of this sci-fi series used to be... MAGNETS! The toys were so FUCKING COOL.

I will play a linking game with the next three shows. First we'll start with BraveStarr, where both the heroes were in fact minorities. Marshall BraveStarr was Native American and his horse, if i remember correctly, was supposed to be a black guy. Kinda like a Samuel L. Jackson, but equine. So anyway, cowboy/space age, but still very rooted in the spaghetti western kinda feel. The bad guys in this show were really scary.

Followed by SABRE RIDER AND THE STAR SHERIFFS! Another brilliant show. Less free range, more space age, but still very cowboy nonetheless. Here you start to see the unicolor uniform theme starting to show up.

Followed by the ultimate in the unicolor uniform theme, and now not western at all, but totally wild and animalistic and and and... I'LL FORM THE HEAD!

and and and whattabout VEHICLE VOLTRON? Who did you like better, butter? Actually I liked the lions. They were bad-ass... but Vehicle Voltron was a close second.

The ultimate vehicle show though, had to be MASK. This is another great song.

The Visionaries were shortlived, but it was a bloody good cartoon and the intro is really rocking. I remember two of the chants...

"Mist filled pits, dark, dank, unclear. Fill all before me with frost-bitten FEAR!"

"Three suns aligned, pour forth thier light. Fill this archers bow with MIGHT!"

and last, but not least, because Obama is being inaugurated right now... i wanted to remind all of you to, POWER EXTREME.

I'm sure you've got millions more. care to remind me?

K

Selling Imagination

2009-01-19T23:01:00.003+08:00

My first attempt at DOPing. Got a lot to learn, especially lights, focus, color, composition, and pretty much everything else.

Created during the Astro-Nida Short Courses 2008.

Sorry about the pillar-boxing. We exported it as 16:9 but when it came to youtube, it did this kakaration to it.

bleargh.

Blueberry

2009-01-19T22:59:00.000+08:00

Zahir gave me the link to this. It's frikkin brilliant, really.

Somethings Happened

2009-01-19T22:23:00.003+08:00

Somethings happened to me.

I don't know what it is. I don't know whether you want to call it growing up, or growing old, or trying to deal with the uncertainties of the future. I don't know whether its depression or just a changing of the guards/moods.

I went to a birthday party last Saturday night at an art gallery in a quiet neighborhood of KL. It was a beautiful house with beautiful artwork all over the walls. The host was truly an icon of KL cool and actually I was quite flattered to be invited. Swimming pool, free flowing booze, an alternative crowd, designers, artists, actors... the closest thing to bohemia that we have here, and I felt so socially awkward and retarded that I got up and left.

I've never felt socially inept before. I could not communicate with anyone, couldn't connect, and frankly couldn't get out of there faster. I don't think it was the other partygoers. I routinely watched groups of strangers meet, go through their introductions, and then have a good time, or at least feign a half decent one... and there I was, the Hot Air King of Christmas Past, who couldn't sustain a conversation longer than 3 minutes. Fuck it, i didn't even want to.

But wait, does any of this matter? No, not really. Will my ability to schmooze in a party decide whether I'm going to heaven or hell? Oh, I'm a hindu. I'm coming back... so even more so, NO.

Somehow I knew this moment was coming. I feel more out of touch with people than ever before. Surely and definitely not slowly, I'm losing the desire to stay in touch, to actually communicate, to call old/new friends, to write e-mails, to Flickr, to get stoned, to drink (which is so far the slowest of all desires to disappear to be honest). I'm becoming so... insular that I'm resorting to blogging again.

What DO I like?

I like playing poker.
I like my garden. The balcony project lives on.
I like looking at the sun in the morning and in the evening.
I like going for runs.
I like cleaning my room.
I like every time I manage to control my temper and actually say/do nice things for my family.
I like managing my finances.
I like hypermiling (572km to one full tank!)
I like porn.
I like maguro.
I like my music collection (and e-mailing out songs to people).
I like telling the truth more.
I like talking less.
I like most of my colleagues.
I like not shaving so much.
I like being home early.
I like sleeping early.
I like Jln Tun Razak during rush hour.
I like not having testicular cancer and that the lump was benign.

What would I LIKE to do?

I'd like to meditate
I'd like to scuba dive
I'd like to find the right pots for my garden
I'd like to find the right frames for my things that need framing
I'd like to spend more time with my little brothers
I'd like to spend more time with my dog
I'd like to eat healthier
I'd like to quit smoking once and for all
I'd like to finally write that film
I'd like to finally be rid of certain ghosts, or rather, stop inviting them back into my life
I'd like to work abroad
I'd like to make the transition from AD to director already

Now that I've listed this stuff down, I realise that there isn't much that I do in my life right now that is stuff that I don't like. That list takes up nearly 95% of my time. I don't attend plays, screenings, launches, dances, exhibitions, birthday parties, reunions, meetings. I don't do anything that isn't work or me. Then this is a positive change, yes? no?

Why do I feel constrained? Isn't life supposed to be a combination of responsibility and doing the things you want to/enjoy doing? I'm doing that now. How come I feel more imprisoned than ever before?

In a nutshell, I'm scared, and unhappy... but have also never been more optimistic about a start to the year than this one. 2009 is going to rock, the same way 2008 did, and 07, and 06, and 05. I think I'm out of my dark days. I think this is something different. This feels a lot less angsty, or rather the angst is manifesting itself differently. No more wailing and melodrama.

Now it's more like sitting on a rock, looking at a beautiful view, taking it all in, but not really knowing what to do with it all, since I'm not allowed to get off the rock in the first place.

Fucking rock

If I do start blogging regularly, I'm going to try and not have all the posts be like this one.

Promise.

More Important Matters

2008-03-03T00:58:00.002+08:00

Control Room Conversations: A Discussion with Storm Rider

The following took place in a dark lighting control room, during the run of a major musical that you may have seen at some point in 2007 at Istana Budaya.

*************
ME: Isn't Melaka named after some kind of tree? Like the Moluccas tree or some cock like that?

SR: No, Melaka is named after 6 whores... "Mah Liew Chia"

*AWKWARD SILENCE*

ME: 6 whores?

SR: Yeah.

*AWKWARD SILENCE*

SR on COMS: Stand-by follow spot. Go Follow Spot.

ME: 6 whores?

SR: Yeah whores.

ME: WHORES?

SR: Not WHORES... whores... the one you can ride.

ME: HORSES?

SR: Yeah, horses. MAH-LIEW-CHIA

ME: Horses... like "KISAH ENAM KUDA" (Tale of 6 Horses), not "KISAH ENAM PELACUR" (Tale of 6 Whores)

SR: Yeah, that's what I said. Whores.

Not a Resolution

2008-01-06T05:49:00.000+08:00

I'm trying to stay sober for the entire month of January, 2008. It's proving to be more difficult than I thought, because I'm finally learning just how much alcohol is part of my daily life.

Turns out that I have a drink in some way or form nearly every day of the week.

Not drinking has helped show me how much I drink. Let's have a look at the social events that I've attended recently and the alcohol that has been going around the table.

1. New Year's night wind down drinks @ the neighbourhood bar with new friends. Good conversation, easy laughter.

Present: House white, House red, Hoeegarden, Tiger.
I Drank: Coffee, Fresh Detox Juice (cucumber, celery, apple, capsicum), ice water

2. First Friday Random Dinner & Drinks with Old Old Friends and New New Friends @ Palate Pallete. Easy Conversation, great laughter, plenty gossip.

Present: Tiger by the Bucket, House white, House red, Gin and Tonics, Mojitos.
I Drank: Ice Lemon Tea x3, Soda Water with Ice & Lemon x 2

3. Late Night Rendezvous with My Bro @ the other neighbourhood bar. Future planning, ho' smackin', cracklin' good time.

Present: 2 bottles x White Wine, Black Label & Soda, Whisky cokes
I Drank: Bitter Lemon with ice.

4. Waffle Breakfast with the theatre family. GREAT food, brilliant company, and UNO (with intercept) and crazy picture taking session.. and honey fried bacon. Yum.

Present; Champagne, Mr.Pimm's No#1, Kahlua
I drank: Coffee, Lemonade, Orange Juice, Water, Ice Cube

5. Late Night Solo Sashimi Dinner with unexpected guest. Shop talk, but the kind that doesn't make you want to steal things from your bosses.

Present: Sake bottles
I drank; Hot tea

hmmmmmmmmmmmm

This is difficult, but I'm sure I could give myself a month sans alcooooool.

If my deodorant can do it, I can too.

Happy New Year people

The End of an Era

2007-07-31T02:20:00.000+08:00

I’ve always maintained that I’m going to blog about work as sparingly as possible. Even then the work stories have to be very interesting, funny, or self-indulgent, otherwise there really is no point in telling them.

I’ve been really busy lately. Busy to the point of not actually doing much else with my life other than work. Seriously, like, almost nothing else at all, oh my god totally.

Tonight though, my family and myself had our official “Happy Leaving Day Rutvik” gathering, organized by The Legend himself. He had some cake in the car, so we sang him “Happy Leaving Day” and made him cut cake and all. I had the office camera on me so we had “Picture Session” and all. It’s funny how we’ve grown to love our own ridiculousness. I love it. I blame my brother for it. He’s singlehandedly bringing the cousins together, all under his reign albeit, but a noble cause nonetheless. I’m beginning to meet my family and really enjoy their company.

If you have never had the pleasure of meeting Rutvik, then you haven’t really experienced true love and irritation and admiration and repulsion for one human being simultaneously. He is The Legend. He is Head Macha. He’s The Pune Pundek. He’s the biggest cobra in the world.

“Macha, I just had my milo, so I can’t go out.”

“Dude, so what? Just come out”

“No ‘cha. It was the milo with milk, not like how they make it in the mamak. You know how they make it with water at the mamak? It’s not the same ‘cha.”

“Whatever fucker.”

Rutvik is the man who we took to Singapore and singlehandedly threw down the gauntlet for how to be drunk and misbehave under the radar while in a foreign country as stuck-up as Singapore CAN get (I’m not saying they are all the time, k? I like Singapore. I’ve grown to really love it, really. But they can get a little insecure sometimes). He sang Justin Timmmerrerlake on the streets late at night, he got drunk on champagne and cleared four white guys off of the dancefloor so that he could do his MC Hammer Dance. He found the 2 for 1 Kilkenny Special at the bar next door, ran all the way back so that we wouldn’t order ANYMORE kilkennies from the rendhi hotel bar which was overcharging us. He had a pee buddy. He passed out during the group photo. In a country that doesn’t allow you to spit freely, Rutvik was throwing up out of the van, in the flower pots in front of the SingTel building, at a shopping centre car park on Orchard Road, at traffic lights…

If anyone of your other friends were doing this, you’d almost hate them for being such a punk… but not Rutvik. With Rutvik, you celebrate those moments with him. You clean him up, help him on his feet, give him water and then laugh at him. Then he laughes back with you before he tries to throw up again.
Yet it isn’t the drunkard that we are going to miss, or the bloody rasta that he is. Every 2 months he’ll pop by and tell you about the latest 60 Bob Marley albums he just downloaded.

“Did Bob Marley make 60 albums?”

“Yeah dude, he did. He made so many albums”

What we are going to miss is the kid with the amazing ability to inspire love in so many of us. We truly LOVE this boy. He’s one of our family members. Even his family have come to recognize the special bond he’s got with us.

I’ve got so much to say about him, but I can’t put it into words. There is no way, really. I do know that I haven’t felt that sad, gut sucking centre of sadness that I felt after we said bye to him at the bar tonight. I’m going to go send him off to the airport tomorrow, and that will be fun and distracting and painful, yet tremendous closure coz I want to see the fucker get on the plane.

It’s the End of an Era for Kuala Lumpur. Ask anyone who knows him in this city, and there are a lot of people who do.

“Rutvik, you should get on facebook.”

“I will macha, but I need to get a digital camera first.”

“What the hell? Why?”

“Because I’ve studied it ‘cha. Facebook is all about the pictures. People tagging and exchanging pictures and stuff. Look at the kid…”

“Shut up dude. Ok. Whatever. Friendster then.”

“Yeah man, Friendster rocks, plus I'm going to be on MSN dude. Facebook is too hectic. You'll see me 'chat. Hopefully I can sort out some kind of internet connection for 24 times..."

"Hhahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahhaa"

"24 hours... I mean, 24 hours"

Maybe I’m the only one who finds this funny, but whatever lah.

It’s been a month of love. Many different kinds too. Emotions that haven’t been pricked in a while came to life, bubbled to the surface briefly, and with one open and close of my romantic season, the flowers came and went. People leaving, people on the brink of dying, people with health problems, people coming back, people from the past, people from a possible future. Love rekindled briefly, lost again. Lost for the first time. Gone going gone. So vague kan? I’m lazy to type lah. This way if you get it, you get it, if you don’t get it then…Sorrylah.

Westbound

2007-03-01T00:42:00.001+08:00

Westbound 1848hrs, originally uploaded by koobz.

Westbound... that's the title of my first ever short film. I'm ridiculously proud of it.

It's playing at http://bmwshorties.com.my

You can download it there and view it, and then you can vote for it. The flick with the most votes wins the People's Choice Award... which I think is a keychain and a certificate or something.

It was easily the most difficult thing I've done, but thank God I didn't have to do it alone. SOOOOO many people helped out on it. I would have thanked everybody here but it looks like I've deleted all the job files for the movie. Thankfully I still have a copy of the damn thing.

So go watch it, and if you are inclined, go vote. Stuff the ballot. I could really use a keychain.

The Attack of the Blob

2007-01-31T18:19:00.000+08:00

Pantai Hillpark is, in my opinion, one of the two craziest condominium developments in Kuala Lumpur. There are 5 phases and 17 million people living in an area that couldn't me more than 1 square km. The other crazy one is way up high in the OUG hills. It's one real kung fu hustle type of complex called Bukit OUG.

The OG's leave U out of their wars.

Like most of my stories, this one takes place late one night and early one morning. I was driving home from Pantai and decided to take the scenic route (no need to pay toll) and put the windows down to enjoy the breeze (use less petrol). El Stormo Guapo easily dealt with the kampung sized speed-bumps and was thirsting for the New Pantai Expressway on-ramp ahead of us. The morning had begun and a bus full of workers was pulling away from the stop to my left. A couple on a motorbike were cruising on my right. In front of me was the slowest driver ever. Even if I pulled over and a flock of physicists ran comparative tests on which was the slower vehicle, my parked car was still a speed demon.

That was the peloton that I found myself in... which actually isn't a peloton at all lah, it's just a normal driving situation. Bus on left, motorbike on right, idiot in front, hero in the middle with rapidly diminishing options except slow down and let one of these monkeys win.

Out of the corner of my eye, from around the right side mirror, a black blob suddenly attacked me. It jumped on my face, covering my entire right eye. I screamed silently and swerved. My non-blobbed eye was working fine and reminded me that I could kill alot of people if I panicked, so I didn't. Maybe it wasn't my eye, but my brain and my reflexes. Either way my eye was involved SOMEHOW. I held the car steady, slowed down, and kept driving. Then the blob started to adjust itself. One foot in my eye, the other in my ear. My smooth head was the perfect place for it, so it climbed on. It was a frog.

How the hell did a frog get into my car travelling 50km/h? I wasn't under any trees, there was nothing overhead for it to drop out of... but there it was, hanging on to dear life on my head. It looked quite happy on my dome, and actually I felt kinda cool. I've always wanted an iguana that I could chill with. You know, twist joints and then have Joswe (pronounced Ho-sway) chill on my shoulder while I pass it to the left. The only difference was that I had already smoked, and instead of an iguana on my shoulder there was a stray frog on my head.

As I congratulated myself for not killing everyone around me in terror when I was frogged, Kermit jumped off and found a nice cozy resting spot against the passenger window glass. He turned around to face me, and we contemplated each other.

"Ok frog... That's a good spot for you. You just wait there, we'll be home in 10 minutes, and then I'm going to let you out in the garden, ok? If I let you out here, you are going to die" I said.

Fredo didn't say anything so I assumed he was cool with the plan.

20 seconds later there was a police roadblock on Jalan Brickfields. I did my usual posture adjusting, switched to Lite & Easy, and put my grown-up face on. The cop slowed me down and waved me through, unaware that I had a stowaway. I should have turned the frog in at that point, but I decided to give it one more chance. 15 metres away from the roadblock as I was eyeing the cops in my mirror, happy to have escaped them yet again, the bastard jumps on my face again. This time I swerve and the tires screech. All the cops turn around and look. I steadied the car again and made my way out of there. What a fantastic frog.

I tried to grab him this time but then he belly flops onto the back window. I see him slide down the glass, and then disappear into the abyss that is my back seat. Right before he disappears, he gives me a look... It was a look that was full of, I don't know lah. I don't speak or understand frog.

Once I got home, I looked everywhere for my hijacker but couldn't find him. Maybe he gave me the slip while I opened the door, I'm not sure. I hope he isn't inside the car. I hate discovering random frog skeletons (you know you've found one somewhere weird before, admit it) and then realising that it was their misadventure that got them there. They should teach frogs not to jump into moving vehicles, or if you are going to jump in, you must know how to jump out. What kind of future lays ahead for the frog world if they keep going on these suicidal joy-rides?

I sighed and shut the door. El Stormo Guapo and I have been "involved" in the deaths of two animals on Malaysian roads (a fish and a chicken), and now an unsolved mystery. The animals are NOT going to be happy.

Taking a breather

2006-12-30T01:05:00.000+08:00

I'm taking a breather from not writing, just to write a little bit, to tell you that the blog will be back up and running in January 2007.

I've been busy dodging bullets, moving house, writing a short film, and countless other silly things that take up my time for no good reason whatsoever.

I've been flickering alot. You can check out the pictures at http://www.flickr.com/photos/koobz.

I'll be in Johor for New Years, getting loose with some Grey Goose.

Apart from that, have a safe New Year's Eve, and have an absolutely brilliant 2007.

My resolution is to be more productive.

Love,

Koobz

Michael Backman and Malaysia

2006-11-23T16:46:00.000+08:00

"MALAYSIA'S been at it again, arguing about what proportion of the economy each of its two main races - the Malays and the Chinese - owns. It's an argument that's been running for 40 years. That wealth and race are not synonymous is important for national cohesion, but really it's time Malaysia grew up."

- excerpt from Michael Backman's "While Malaysia fiddles, it's opportunities are running dry". First published in The Age, November 15 2006.

To the 10 people who visit this blog, have you heard about the storm in a teacup that is Michael Backman's article in the Australian newspaper, The Age, about Malaysia? Titled "While Malaysia fiddles, it's opportunities are running dry" and released on the 15th of November, it's not the most positive report, but it is definitely the most honest thing I've read the whole year. Someone buy the guy a drink.

If you've always lived here and couldn't put your finger on why we are so mediocre, the articlewill help you put things in perspective.

If you know nothing about Malaysia, it is still an interesting article about a developing nation with so much to offer but unsure about how to go about doing it.

We've got a serious problem with criticism in this country. We take special exception to constructive criticism, especially by foreigners. Since we are so busy trying to bodek the foreigners and comparing ourselves to them, I think receiving a note or two from an outsider's perspective is absolutely crucial.

Anyway. Go read the article. Backman has also written a little response to all the hoo-hah that he seems to find himself at the centre of. Rafidah doesn't think much of him, because he isn't Malaysian. Go figure.

Cloudburst

2006-11-23T13:20:00.000+08:00

I honestly think that the KL skyline is not as spectacular as we like to believe... though sometimes I believe all the hullabaloo, actually I believe it most of the time. Yet when I'm driving along the elevated highway, or on the MRR2, it's not the buildings that I'm staring at.

It's the crazy clouds, especially the ones that we get these days during monsoon season. They are such drama queens. Three days ago I drove to the top of a hill in Cheras to watch this crazy gang fight that was about to happen between warring cloud factions. There were three big cloud "systems" or whatever you call them that were kinda moving in on each other. From the left there was a very dark, very low, all lightning and thundering mass that was creating havoc under it. In the middle was this huge, swarthy cloud gang that was slip slidin' n' swirlin' left, over the angry thunderstorm system but at the same time it was also moving right.

What was on the right was just breathtaking. The setting sun was low enough to be under the cloud cover and had backlit the entire city, the angry clouds, the swirling clouds, and you could see the rain falling over parts of sri kembangan and sungai besi. It had also previously rained all over Hulu Langat and the mountains that start the Banjaran Titiwangsa so there were very low-lying fresh white clouds that were clinging on to the tree line. One particular valley within our valley had a full cloud ceiling and it was reflecting the light as well, thus the buildings around it were backlit from the left as well as sidelit from the right. Rich golden red hues from the background right crossing through to foreground left. KLCC in the middle. Dark, rain diffused mountains on the left, sharp green mountains on the right. Aaaaah.

I don't know whether this description makes sense, but it was stunning and worth the one hour of driving around looking for the perfect view. During that time I found a geese farm next to the Leisure Mall in Cheras, along with the ugliest houses I've ever seen in my life.

There is an entire community of very rich Chinese people in the hills of Cheras that realise that their land has some of the craziest views of KL. They have exploited it however, and built the most hideous mansions I've ever seen. It is WORSE than O.U.G. I'm going to take pictures soon. Why is the race of the homeowner important in this particular rant?

It's Malaysia. Race is always important. Don't believe me? Just check out the recently finished UMNO General Assembly.

Craziness man.

Anyway. Just pause for a second while you are rushing home from work today to escape the evening downpour to have a look at the clouds. If it helps, look at the clouds and the skyline at the same time. They really compliment each other. On the way to work today, a big bugger had cumulo-nimbofied itself over the Twin Towers. One tower was in bright blue skies and strong direct sun, and the other was in very dark shadow. Countless metaphors come to mind, but I just liked the way it looked.

"The Two Towers"was taken by Matt2005 over on flickr.

Pass the Dutchie...

2006-11-01T09:18:00.000+08:00

There is a certain elegance in getting stoned on the rooftop of a 30 storey building while watching the sunset and the mist roll in after a heavy afternoon downpour.

I'm also increasingly attracted to the particularly violent cropping of photographs.

In the middle of a hugeeeeeeeeee shoot right now. Will resurface soon.

Yay!

2006-10-18T17:02:00.000+08:00

Yay!
Originally uploaded by koobz.

Was recently in Langkawi on business, and I ran into Lindsey and Gang on pleasure. I love this photograph. These guys do the group holiday thing really well. They buried each other in the sand, played in the waves, had coreographed jump photo ops, wrote "I MISS YOU" messages in the sand for friends who weren't around... and they were rewarded with the most beautiful blue skies I've seen in years.

2006-10-18T16:42:00.000+08:00

Jay-Shawn Does Pharrell, LIVE at Carlton Hotel, Singapore

We recently went to see Russell Peters, live in Singapore. We also drank like bastards. Gary had a little bit more to drink than the rest of us.

Losing the Battle, Losing the War

2006-09-27T22:44:00.000+08:00

Pulau Indah Sunset
Originally uploaded by koobz.

I had to shoot over Merdeka (Independence Day) weekend this past 31st August. To top it off, it was a night shoot, which means your days are fucked because you are preparing for the night and your nights are fucked because you haven't slept and you are shooting.

Dealing with a night shoot in the centre of town on a weekend is tough enough, but when you are doing it on Merdeka, you also deal with a bunch of flag waving hooligans riding around on their motorbikes making absolute nuisances of themselves. Add the extra day off from work, the drunk drivers, and just the generally bad drivers of Malaysia and you have a few recipes for disaster.

One such hero was a black CRV that was honking and swerving past us as we were in the midst of a tricky tracking shot using the back of a low-loader. He sideswiped us, beat a traffic light, muscled his way past a car that was waiting at another traffic light and zoomed out of sight. We turned the corner and just as he came into sight again, so did a taxi.

The CRV had run another red light and plowed through a taxi that was coming across the junction. The taxi slammed into a Guardian pharmacy, shattering the glass. The taxi driver, dead on the spot, was flung out and behind the car. His two passengers had broken multiple limbs and lay there in pain. The CRV driver had broken his leg and couldn't move but that didn't stop the gathering mob from beating him to a pulp. His passengers tried to make a run for it but the now fully gathered mob gave chase. One of them tried to jump off the bridge into the Klang River but missed and hit the riverbank instead, breaking his ankle... and then got beaten to a pulp.

I watched all of this from a distance. I was on shoot. I was working. I couldn't leave the camera and there were about 70 people there in the blink of an eye anyway. Somebody smart and not busy working or beating people up had already called an ambulance because they were there in record time for Malaysian emergency response teams.

That downer of an opener is not the point of this post though. This post is far more romantic and idiotic at the same time.

Instead of using smaller lights, Harold Goh-bachev, our Director of Photography, had opted for an 18K light to be boomed 80ft into the air off a cherry-picker crane. The white light canceled out the ugly amber that KL is usually flooded in. Cool, slightly bluish tones replacing warm, orange tones. This is significant because the amber has irritated me for years. Even when you fly into KL all you see is a sea of amber. The spill is more effective and brighter than the white light, and yes it is safer, but it is just UGLY. Everything looks so sweaty and hot and blearaggghghghhghhghghghgh.

Anyway, we were shooting in the older part of town with colonial building and pre-war shophouses (Medan Pasar area to you true KL-ites). There were millions of cockroaches, the whole place smelled like a drain, and the drunken maniacs were a friendly bunch. Then it started drizzling at about 5.30am. There I was in the middle of the street, getting the extra cars and motorbikes to line up so that we could shoot the traffic light scene again. I was wet, tired, hungry, cold and then I turned around was floored by what I saw.

Backlit by the powerful white light, the slow drizzle looked like snow. Not some stupid flash in the pan flurry, but proper medium strength snowfall. I didn't have my camera-phone with me at the moment, but it isn't important because I remember exactly what it looked like. I was one of those foreigners who would stop to watch the snow every winter when I was abroad just because it was so DIFFERENT to me. I had three full winters in Boston and I stopped every single time it snowed. I'd take extra long walks in the snow. Snow was more than the one hit wonder who sang informer, it signified the complete removal of myself from my home to somewhere else. That moment was special because I felt so far away from home and somewhere else yet I was right there. The excitement at being somewhere new while actually being somewhere you are completely used to... and avoiding cockroaches at the same time.

Thanks to the early morning downpour, the skies were cleared of the haze and were rock-solid blue. There was a strong breeze left over from the storm, fluffy clouds that raced low across the city, and a strong warm sun that was probably groovin' on Motown as it came up, because that was what they were playing on the radio. It was Sunday morning, it was Merdeka weekend, the roads were empty and the shoot was a resounding success. You have never seen a morning like this, Malaysia. Most of you were probably asleep, hung-over from excess jubilation for the birth of our nation. It felt like a late early spring morning in the west. Do you know how rocking a late early spring morning is? Fwoah. It's the best. Everything you can think about that makes a stereotypical beautiful morning was in full effect. Birds were having choir competitions, trees were rustlin'... it was the best.

It felt so good to be in Malaysia and being Merdeka weekend, it felt so good to be Malaysian. At some point they played "Tanggal 31" by Sudirman on the radio and I caught myself looking at a flag on the traffic light longer than I needed to. Corny, yes, but I was sleep deprived and it was just gorgeous, ok? I really wanted a Pokka Green Tea so I dipped into the 7-Eleven and this was the point that just turned the whole morning for me.

I got my beverage of choice and returned to the cashier, and ahead of me was this pudgy, disgusting man who was just being an asshole. He will now be known as Asshole Guy (AG).

AG: Where can I find information in the newspaper about real estate?

7E: *quiet mumbling response*

AG: What is the name of the other English newspaper?

7E: *quiet mumbling response*

AG: NO! That is the paper I'm holding in my hand! I'm asking you about the other English paper....

7E: *quiet mumbling response*

AG: Where is a good place to rent an apartment? I'm new to this country and I need to know.

7E: *quiet mumbling response*

AG: You are useless! Where else can I buy a newspaper around here?

7E: *quiet mumbling response*

AG: What?

7E: *quiet mumbling response*

AG: Yes yes, that is all. What do you think?

And I just stood there, sunglasses on, completely quiet. This guy was about 35 years old and definitely an Arab national. Hands waving, perfect English, obnoxious as fuck. This situation is disturbing on many levels. Firstly, no idiot in their right mind goes about getting real estate information from the 16 year old who works at 7-Eleven, especially if you are in a foreign country. Secondly, the clerk was Malay. Malay culture is no longer the soft and gentle culture it used to be traditionally, but when dealing with foreigners and people speaking English, somehow it reverts to being very mumbly and soft. Therefore, if the belligerent moron took a second to LISTEN to what the 7E was saying, he would have gotten the answers he wanted and wouldn't have gotten belligerent and stupid in the first place.

Asshole Guy walks out of the shop, obviously headed for the newsstand across the street. I pay for my green tea, jump into my car and drive off. I'm seething. Someone should have put that asshole in his place. That's no way to behave in your own country and definitely not the way to behave in someone else’s ESPECIALLY ON THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MORNING IN THE HISTORY OF MALAYSIA, THE FREE.

I'm pissed. I turn my car around, and take into account pedestrian traffic behavior in the area; I assume that he'll be headed for one of the two hotels next to 7E. Lo and behold I find the bastard outside the first one. I drive up next to him aggressively, catching him off guard. He looks at me like I smacked his mother. I wish I would.

Me: Yo man... come here.

AG: What?

Me: Come here... I want to talk to you.

AG: What?

Me: Just come here. I was at the 7-Eleven with you just now. I heard you asking about real estate.

AG: So what?

Me: Let me do you and my country a big favor. Let me answer whatever questions you want to know about Kuala Lumpur and Malaysia in general. Whatever you want to know. Where to change money, where the good supermarkets are, where to buy an apartment, everything.

AG: Why?

Me: Because you are antagonizing the citizens of this country, and they don't need it.

AG: When was I antagonizing anybody?

(he's very arrogant and obnoxious and rude about this whole thing. I'm just playing it like Samuel L. Jackson on a plane. Cool, but man there are snakes everywhere and I can't take it.)

Me: Back there in the 7-Eleven. That guy was answering all your questions correctly, and even giving you more suggestions, but you are so rude and full of yourself that you don't even listen to what he was saying. So you just irritated yourself, and scared him, and just fucking stop it. We don't need your rudeness. We don't need your negativity. We've got enough to deal with without having foreigners come here and screw it up. You don't like it here, go back.

AG: Thank you very much for your concern

At that point, he walks off. I'm so charged at challenging a stranger in the first place that I just drive off. I don't sing him Negaraku. I don't yell at him to fuck off, or some racist remark. I just drive off. It really is his loss though. I would have been an excellent resource for him. He’d put me on speed-dial on the cell phone and line that I would arrange for him. He’d come visit me in the taxi that I’d get to be with him at all times. He’d buy me dinner in the best Indian restaurant in town not knowing that my family owned it and he was paying 30% more. He would love me to the point that the rest of Malaysia wouldn’t have to deal with his shit and then many years from now when his assholeness cannot be hidden anymore and they kick him out, they’ll give me some kind of honorary because I was on a mission to protect the country. Datuk Koobz.

Now in Man-World, AG has won. He has handled a situation with veiled politeness and left it without having to deal with it very much. His accuser is left flat-footed and without any comebacks because he has diffused the whole thing with one swift act of assholeness and is gone. But outside of Man-World, I think I won. How often does a complete stranger come up to you in public and tell you "Hey, you are being rude. Stop it." Hopefully he would have gone upstairs to his room and thought about it for a second.

But it is true. Malaysia isn't paradise, but some of us are at least working on it. We don't need the rude, and we don't need the negativity. I'm talking about from Malaysians and foreigners alike. There are plenty of foreigners here who aren't rude and are very positive and love this place to bits. There isn't much to not like about it. It's a great country... but to those of you who don't like it, just leave. No one is forcing you to be here. Stop torturing yourself and torturing us. We already put foreigners on a pedestal here just for being foreign. We already get tongue-tied and shy about speaking English because so many foreign fuckers can't get past the accent and then shit all over these poor people. I'd like to see a Malaysian tourist tell a Scotsman to go and learn how to speak English properly because he can't understand him...

For us Malaysians, I have nothing for us but a big fat *sigh*. We only get together beyond our mutual races when there is a car accident. That too the first question we ask is "Melayu Cina ke India?" (Malay, Chinese, or Indian?) followed by "mati ke?" (did they die?). We seem to take any kind of constructive criticism as being unpatriotic and judgmental. Stupid. Not accepting constructive criticism is being unpatriotic. If you don't like it here, just leave. I'm ready to leave for a short while but then come back. My negativity and rudeness is on the tip of my tongue and before it rears its ugly head, I think I need to be somewhere else. But then I'll come back, refreshed, and ready to do magic.

To the ones who don't want to come back, that's fine. The rest of us will do fine without you. Just don't complain to me that no one lines up, or that the food at the side of the road is too dirty. I don't want to hear it.

Happy 49th, Baby.

2006-09-25T14:45:00.000+08:00

Hugo Chavez calls Bush the Devil

I think there is no witty, subtly political commentary that I can make here. Hugo "Boss" Chavez says it all.

2006-09-16T18:23:00.000+08:00

Drypantz - Aiman

The first in a series of two commercials that make up my directorial debut (peeeeweeeeetttt!!). It isn't going to win a Cannes Lion anytime soon, but it's already bought an apartment in my heart. Awwwww. Mommy is a lounge singer who is releasing an album soon, and was a dream to work with. Baby Shahrir was also the man... patient, understanding, and very professional. The scene where Mommy is putting him to sleep though isn't as restful as it looks. He's actually crying his poor little eyes out. Through the magic of editing, it's like he's ready for bedtime! Yay editing!

2006-09-16T18:17:00.000+08:00

Drypantz - Sara

This is the second in the series of two commercials that I directed. The funny thing about this one is that Mommy managed to slip a disc in her back during the first shot of the day. After a 2 hour massage delay, and another 2 hour chiropractor delay, she managed to pull it together and shoot the majority of her scenes. After an early night's rest and a shot from a doctor, she was able to come back the next day and finish the shoot. The baby on the other hand, was terrible to work with. She only gave us a good 1 hour to work with her when she wasn't crying or sleeping. Babies are a pain in the ass to work with. They don't do ANYTHING you ask them to, no matter how polite or how much you bribe them. Babies. Bah Humbug.

The Return of The Chinamen

2006-08-27T09:27:00.000+08:00

Everytime Storm Rider swoops into town from Singapore, he invariably drags Guru Besar out of his hole in bloody Kajang for some good old fashioned time wasting. Thanks to their overwhelming coolness though, the universe usually rewards us with fantastic mini-adventures for our enjoyment.

These days Guru Besar has grown himself a Hong Kong triad ponytail, and Storm Rider... well, I think he's just spent way too much time in Singapore (No offense, M!). Last night's mini-adventure was me agreeing to drive out to Kajang to hang out with Tweedledee and Tweedledum. For even more poor cultural taste, how about Ah Dee and Ah Dum?

By the way, Malaysians ah, we are prisoners of our own laidbackness and cell phone culture. Last night, despite having to work, I also quadruple booked myself. I was supposed to hang out with Substitute first, and then I asked Cobra Commander what he was doing, and then WhatWhat came into the picture, and then JuneBug had also called, and then some point in the afternoon, Storm Rider calls me from the highway and says he's just past Melaka and I gotta come find him at some point in the night. Wait, that is one more than quadruple. I've pentacle (?) booked myself? To make matters worse, none of these five bookings had ANY concrete plans whatsoever. If you wanted to prioritize and arrange your social calender, you would not be able to because everybody refuses to lock anything down.

ME: Wanna hang out Saturday night?

THEM: Sure, call me lah after dinner.

We have, myself included, become very guilty of avoiding proper plans because it keeps our options open in case something better comes along at any point. Actually I'm not saying we should bring this practice to a complete stop. I really like keeping things open, and KL is the kind of city both in personality and in size that this is a viable and actually tremendously fruitful method of socializing. That being said, we gotta bite the bullet and stop being scared of future plans. We can practice by doing things a few days in advance, and then move on to maybe a week before. Do you know in KL, it is almost impossible to call somebody on a Monday and ask them if they want to go for dinner? Thursday, 7.30pm? I'll pick you up. You would have to call back on Wednesday to make sure Thursday night was on, and then again on Thursday afternoon to find out if you really were still on. It's as if the city is only populated by rock stars and politicians.

JuneBug and I must have called each other at least 4 times last night, just to figure out what time and where to meet up, what we were going to do, or just pretty much make any kind of plans with each other. Each phone call too was full of polite hemming and hawing. We should work on it, JB. Make plans and stick by em! If they really suck and something comes up, call and cancel! I won't be upset, promise.

The most disgusting thing is that this is entirely common. I got out of it with Substitute by telling him the truth. I'm glad that at least a few of my friendships are still rooted is unflinchingly brutal honesty.

ME: Sub, I was going to make up some excuse about why we shouldn't hang out, but actually I'm pentacle booked, and I'll just see you next week.

SUB: Yay. Now I can play WarCraft!

As for the others, I managed to get WhatWhat to come to my place early. I got him to roll one of his famous Killlllleerrrrr Weiiiii Blunts and then we went to see the Commander of All that is Cobra and the members of his crack Cobra support team a.k.a his co-workers. They really are a bunch of snakes... in a production house. After that it was a quick dinner with JuneBug before driving...

Driving all the way out to Kajang. Driving through Bintang Walk traffic on a Saturday night, onto the Sungai Besi highway. All the time needing to pee from the beer and green tea that I had been steadily guzzling since about 4pm. Driving onto the Kajang-Silk Highway and not seeing the correct exit before ending up on a 20 minute detour before turning back around and ending up in the one-horse three-cowboy town that is Sungai Chua. I stopped at the Maple House Pub and Fun Club, a dinghy corner lot serving beer amidst plastic flower lights and Nepali immigrants. Guru Besar and Storm Rider were trashed. In front of their lazy bodies were, at first glance, at least two or three bottles of beer. Bloody lightweights. A really unattractive waitress poured me a beer and I settled into my chair.

Even before having the beer, it is safe to say that my reality was sufficiently altered and had been since at least 2pm. Before you can say that Robert is indeed your father's brother, the three of us picked up exactly where we had left off and started our own special blend of murdered Malay, English, and Cantonese as we fought our way through the language barrier. Like I've said before though, their English is terrible and my Malay and Cantonese is disgusting. Somewhere in the negative adjectives though, we come together and really enjoy each other's company and manage to communicate in ways that I wished the rest of the world could experience, at least once.

The Maple House announced last call and the three of us jumped into El Stormo Guapo and sparked a J. To slightly digress, Agency recently got married and her little door gift, a porcelain box of some kind, is the perfect little Container Of Vice. We took a leisurely drive through the village of Sungai Chua. We passed the fanciest restaurant there; the Station One Steakhouse, complete with warm lighting and acoustic Chinese singer-songwriter duo. They were doing a solid interpretation of "The Blower's Daughter". In front of the restaurant were the DVD boys, but old school style. They had opened up a little stall with the fluorescent tube, the movie titles all layed out on a table in front of them. I don't think copyright law enforcement is high up on their list of cares and concerns out in Sungai Chua. I think some of them are still thankful for electricity and don't want to push it too much.

Nicely buzzing, we continued to drive around and see the sights. I saw a bicycle gang of kids, no one older than 14, stealing a road sign and then speedily speeding it away. Maria Callas singing "The Marriage of Figaro" came on just as we hit a stretch of road with no streetllights. Busting on through the dark, everyone was quiet while Maria broke it on down. I was enjoying the cool air that comes with being this far out from the city (I drove 150KM last night. All of my mileage being AFTER 11.30pm). Storm Rider was playing with his phone. Guru Besar had his eyes closed and was moving his head like as if his chin was conducting the orchestra playing in the background. A few minutes of silence passed before Guru Besar suddenly sits up, wipes his face clean, looks at me and says "Wahhhhhh. What is this voice like angels? What is this angel music you are playing?" before leaning back against his chair. Not ten seconds past before he followed up "Eh, turn left there. Let's go for Lok-Lok."

Lok-Lok. It's a combination between satay, steam-boat, and old fashioned pigging out when drunk and/or stoned. You stand by the side of this truck and just grab skewered meat and vegetables and throw them into the boiling soup, wait a few minutes, and then you have FOOD ON A STICK! Food on a stick is absolutely glorious.

As a general rule of thumb, the better the club, the worse the lok-lok that is parked out in front of it. The lok-lok in front of Zouk is terrible. The lok-lok at Asian Heritage Row is rubbish. You just imagine how good the lok-lok at Maple House Pub & Fun Club in Sungai Chua, Kajang is. Truly I experienced a culinary moment last night when Storm Rider handed me what looked like char siew (bbq pork) wrapped in some obscure Chinese vegetable. I took a bite (actually I put the whole thing straight into my mouth... like a pterodactyl) and it was the best char siew I had ever tasted. What was even more surprising is that it wasn't ever char siew at all! It was duck, and duck liver, and through some Chinese magic they had made it taste like pork. I dare say it tasted even better thank pork. Shite. I dare say it and I said it. It was a tasty little culmination of what had been a great day of stoning, wasting time, and just recovering from everyday life in general by staying as far away from everyday life as you possible can.

Weekends... I think I could get used to the concept.

2006-08-23T21:13:00.000+08:00

You Make Me Feel Brand New

Motown never sounded this good. I've never sounded this bad.

Again with the Naked Nihonjin...

2006-08-23T21:05:00.000+08:00

After an extensive post-mortem of hanging out at the All Hang Out Club locker room, Hogs and I came to the conclusion that a towel is the best way to go. Dirty looks be damned, I need to look out for my modesty.

So there I was... not naked but shaving at the sink at the end of the counter. I heard the sauna doors open and some people laughing as they came closer to where I was standing. Something in the corner of my eye caught my attention and as I turned, I saw not one, but FIVE naked Japanese men. The only semblance of cover they had was their tiny little face towels that they each had across their shoulders. They were bright red, sweaty... and shrivelled from the heat. Truly the male physique can often be the ugliest of nature's creations. The neikiddo nihonjins, happily nattering away in nihongo, were on a collision course with my hairy, covered ass. They walked in perfect formation and who but NJM was the proverbial (and this case, literal) tip of the spear. The naked, middle aged Japanese Danny Zuco(nawa) with his wingman Kenickie(sawa), and the others. They were on a collision course with me. It was unavoidable. There was no Bruce Willis and nuclear bomb on the way to save me. I don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to fall asleep coz I miss you baby, and I don't wanna miss a thinggggggg.

I was just hoping that he would walk the FUCK ON BY DAMNIT. But he didn't.

He stopped, looked at me, turned to his gang and said,

NJM: Ah-re! *cute guttural japanese noises in a sing songy fashion*

GANG: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

NJM: You ah-gain. Doing tha same thing. You don't go home?

ME: No, I moved in here last week. I'm living out of Locker 476.

NJM: Ree-ahlly?

Shit. He didn't get the joke. At all. The look on his face was half-compassion and half-pity. Imagine living out of Locker 476.

GANG: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

NJM: NANI?!

GANG: HAHAHAHA! *Kenickie(sawa) explains to him the nature of the joke while the others continue to laugh at him*

NJM turns back and glares at me, before harumphing and flicking his head to indicate to his gang that joking time was OVAH. He storms off and they follow him in perfect, nekkid, formation... while still laughing at the poor guy. I don't think he's going to talk to me anymore. One of them was re-enacting NJM's "Ree-ahlly?" and then they burst out laughing again. I couldn't tell if NJM had turned red because they were all beetroot anyway.

I'm well on my way to being really popular at the All Hang Out Club.

****************************

One of my producers at work sent me this joke a few months ago. I think most Malaysian's will get it. You foreigners bettah recognize. I reproduce it here:

One day, siew pau (steamed pork bun) and maggi mee (instant noodles) had a big fight. Maggi mee beat siew pau up until it had bruises on its pau body.

Siew Pau loose the fight and went back to tell all the pau family;- kaya pau, tau sa pau, curry pau, and etc.

So together.. all the paus went to find maggi mee for revenge.

On the way... they met Spaghetti.. so all of the pau ran to Spaghetti and BEAT the hell up on Spaghetti that Spaghetti cant say a word,

Spaghetti then scream...

"what did I do? I don’t even noe you all"..

Then the siew pau say..

"HEH! MAGGI MEE! Don’t think I cant recognize you after you do REBONDING!"

****************************

In other news, I fell in love and then she left. At least I know she's out there :)

Flirting is Funny

2006-07-31T17:24:00.000+08:00

I've recently had the pleasure/irritation of buying stock footage for a TVC that my company recently finished. The irritation is the actual process of going through the footage, getting the director to choose one, quoting, and then actually paying for it. Basically the whole process. The pleasure has been Anna.

Anna laughs at everything I say. She giggles when I ask her about her weekend. I don't help the situation because everytime I speak to her I like to use my suave, fancy England in my sexy, deep voice... which is very sexy and suave. I am very attractive when you don't actually have to look at me.

So Anna and me have been flirting, doing the half business half social thing. She sends me through the loopholes to find her on Friendster, which I do, and she turns out to be a cute Chinese girl. Just my type. We back and forth and forth and back and finally I decide to ask her out for coffee (just in case she's terribly boring or it goes REALLY badly. One coffee later I can get the hell out of dodge. Daytime is also neutral and Coffee Bean is either the Maker of Dreams or the Preserver of Boring Status Quo).

I ask her for coffee and she giggles, and then we have the following conversation.

Me: So how about this weekend? I'm actually not busy, for once.

AN: Finally! This weekend is ok for me too... normally I spend it with my fiance but he's golfing this weekend. It has to be on Saturday evening though, coz I'll be in KL trying on wedding dresses and then I'll be free.

Me: *single silent cough*

Crashing and burning? I've made it an art.

Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man

2006-07-31T16:11:00.000+08:00

So I'm gymming like a bastard these days. Handsome Surfer Boy gave me a fantastic program of circuit training, core development, and then I do my normal cardio. I feel...heldy as the Indians like to say. I either go to the gym at Fitness Last near home, or this fancy run-down country club near work. The thing about the country club, is that they LOVE their nudity in the men's locker room. They thrive on it. It's a throwback to the bathing culture of Europe... and I suppose Japan and increasingly, China too.

So in the locker room, everyone just goes stark naked. This is also particularly funny because the country club's patrons are truly the captains of Malaysian industry and the really powerful dudes who just HAVE to get some golf in during the weekends, otherwise their lives are incomplete. You could wear a towel around your waist, but then everyone looks at you like "what are you trying to hide, sonny?". I'm sure they also just want to know where they rank in the ancient male game of "Whose Dick is Longer?", which is fine, because hey... I play that game too.

So (third paragraph that begins with So... English purists everywhere are cringing), there I was... naked and shaving at the sink at the end of the counter. Out of nowhere, a middle aged Japanese man with this crazy beard that only the Japanese can pull off materializes next to me. He's massaging his face, trimming his beard, and going through his motions when he turns to me and goes:

NJM: Excuse me... you look very famiriar.

I look at him and recognize him in an instant. He's my ex-girlfriend's boss. I've only met him once, years ago, at a terrible company party (the party was terrible, the company I don't know). He probably remembers me coz I went up to him and said "KANPAI!" after I had kanpai'ed a bit on my own. I obviously don't want to deal with explaining the whole situation to him, so I just say:

ME: Er... I don't know. I don't think we've met before:

NJM: Are you shuah?

ME: Well, maybe you've seen me around the club. I'm always around these days.

NJM: No... I met you somewhere outside.

Then, I thought I'd be really smart and throw him off the scent so I said...

ME: I work in advertising too, so maybe you've seen me around the post-production houses? I always like to follow post.

NJM: Ah so des...

A quiet moment passes before he wisens up and says:

NJM: How do you know I work in advertising?

ME: Er... well, what I mean is that I work in advertising too... like I go to the club AND I work in advertising. I didn't know that you work in advertising. Where do you work?

NJM: I work at Brand X Agency and I'm the MD there.

ME: Oh ok... anyway, nice meeting you.

NJM: Ah, yes yes.

And he walks away, butt jiggling with each step as he hums some strange tune under his breath. I really need to work on my white lying skills. They are going down the drain.

Angry Minnie

2006-07-27T12:23:00.000+08:00

Angry Minnie
Originally uploaded by koobz.

I found the following on the wall of a 9 year old girl's room. I thought it was great.

"One day, Minnie was walking to a cave. She saw in the cave there was an angry monster. The monster bit her. And she became angry. And she married him. The end."

Anyway, I'll post more about the shoot after the edit. It was a bit of a catastrophe. The Chinese mom talent pulled her back on the first shot. The babies refused to stop crying. Everything was fraught. I will be relying heavily on my offline editor Jordan's magic to help weave everything together.

Rock steady.

One Toe Through the Door

2006-07-24T17:54:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow will definitely go down as one of the milestones of my life to date. I'm about to direct my first TV commercial for a premium diaper brand. It's not a terribly big project, but it counts nonetheless. They are going to show it on TV, which means it is important (to some people). We are shooting on DigiBeta instead of film. They are two small testimonial spots involving Mom and Baby talking about the diaper and how their lives are infinitely enriched by it. Mom does all the talking... Baby has been uncooperative so far. That's the problem with working with kids 9-12 months old. They just don't care.

It has been a very quick almost 2 years since I joined production. Abandoning theatre and the arts to, essentialy, sell out and start again at the bottom of an altogether different industry was a big leap of faith. It wasn't hard to do though. The time to move on was right and I had reached an impasse of some kind, real or imagined.

When talking about my career, God has been provident and I have worked hard over the last two years. I have never had so much focus in my life and the dividends are starting to pay off. I'm starting to get addicted to the mental sharpness that comes with paying attention. It really is quite brilliant.

So tomorrow I will get a nice chair, my very own monitor, my stopwatch, and someone will keep the peppermint tea flowing while I furrow my brow and think. Even if I don't know what I'm doing or what my next step is, I'm going to keep the brow furrowed. Occasionally I will close my eyes and hold my clenched fist over my mouth. I will talk to myself. I will wildly gesticulate in the corner. I will make ridiculous small talk with my clients and have lunch on a specially segregated table with a table fan already set up and use metal cutlery instead of the usual plastic forks. I will not repeat "Cut" in a loud voice. I will merely whisper it under my breath, audible only to my 1st A.D. I will establish eye-contact communication with my Director of Photography. I will torment my Art Director about the color progression from wheat to taupe. I will scream with joy and relief and thank God and my bosses from the bottom of my heart for this amazing opportunity. Once you get a good first toe in, the next step is to kick the door down, but one step at a time.

Lastly, for the first time in all my life milestones, or at least the ones that you can suitably prepare for (big exams, virginity, leading role in a play etc), I find myself prepared. I've paid attention, worked hard, sucked up, and I GET this. I haven't GOT something this much before (besides chicken pox and love... I'm still recovering from both). Defending my ideas and my direction during pre-production meetings has been like defending a thesis (at least I'm imagining it to be) and after FIVE rounds of defending and minor changes to my work, we are about to go to war.

Shit, did I pack my calculator? Do you want to come in for some coffee and then stay for breakfast? Positions please. Two minutes. Ok guys, stand by here we go. Roll Tape. Turnover... anddddddddd ACTION.

I'm really looking forward to tomorrow.

The Horny of Africa

2006-07-13T18:34:00.000+08:00

I like using metaphors when I talk. In fact, sometimes they go out of control. Someone pointed this out to me the other day and I justified it by likening my use of metaphors to a herd of elephants that research scientists have managed to attract to their research outpost, only they did such a good job of attracting the elephants, that they created the stampede. So the scientists benefit from having SOME elephants there, but all their field equipment has been destroyed by the rampaging pachyderms.

Those bloody elephants.

My latest metaphor is for the age old battle that occurs within every man.

The battle between head, heart, and penis. Head says one thing, heart pleads one thing, and then the penis does whatever it wants in the first place.

Imagine Man as Somalia. I remember reading somewhere that life started somewhere around this region. Anyway, his head represents the United Nations. His heart represents the aid organizations, missionaries, and other volunteer groups. His penis represents the tribal warlords... which is especially apt since they both live in the bush.

The United Nations are usually imagined to be the well-thought out, metered, and rational approach. The heart goes after the morals, the underlying social issues of right and wrong. The tribal warlords, fuck dude, they are pretty single minded/headed creatures. They want what they want, they want it now, and unless it is a surprising show of force and lobbying from the UN and the Red Cross, they are going to do whatever they want.

The problem with tribal warlords, is that anybody can be one. All you need are a bunch of cousins and a rocket launcher. It doesn't even need to be a very good rocket launcher, just as long as you can blow something up. The tribal warlords come to Mogadecisionmakingissue and create a ruckus. The UN shows up with their blue helmets and do whatever it is they do, directing traffic or escorting bureaucrats, all the while trying to point the problem in the supposed right direction. The aid groups drop flyers from the sky and appeal to innocent bystanders who neither have blue helmets or rocket launchers. The warlords, convinced they are right because of the overwhelming urge to blow something up, try and be patient. I suspect it isn't patience but merely enjoying the bumbling show of "leadership" and "guidance" provided by the other two. One day they get bored, and suddenly it's Black Hawk Down.

The warlords are celebrating. Their rocket launchers are spent. The UN releases a strongly worded statement. The aid organizations rue the day. The warlords? They don't care. They just shrug and go "I dunno"... You guys got us in this situation anyway. We were just trying to be tribal warlords and suddenly we've got 2 other groups telling us that we can't have our warlord fun. More justifications from both aid workers and the UN as to why and what has happened. The warlords replenish their ammo and set their sights on juicier targets... and on and on it goes.

So now how? How do you stop the tribal warlords? How do the aid workers get more organized and more funding and able to print flyers in more than just French? How does the UN show that it is a serious force to be reckoned with, since both aid workers and warlord associations think they are just a joke?

*sigh*

Negros, you know what I'm talking about. We are all Somalia.

I definitely am.

Educating the Natives

2006-07-04T09:49:00.000+08:00

When you are the AD and the talent, you are still the AD.

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

It would have been fun to run into Umfufu. You know Umfufu, the buck naked bush bitch who rides a zebra.

Sooooo many interesting things... maybe

2006-06-26T18:25:00.000+08:00

So many interesting things happen to me on a weekly (I don’t say daily because then it makes it sound like I’m TOO interesting) basis and yet I am never inspired to write anything about them. I stare at my update-less blog and contemplate the delete button… and then I listen to a song like Nico’s These Days from The Royal Tennenbaums soundtrack and suddenly I want to write my own version of the Mahabharata.

I’m currently experimenting with being a hermit. After 25 years of being an intensely social creature, I’m suddenly moving towards hanging out with myself and establishing a hermitocracy. My new DVD player and 35 DVDs (ranging from The Passion of Christ to Tom Yum Goong) are brilliant late night company and can everyone please give the World Cup a big round of applause? Can I get a witness? Did anyone watch Portugal v Netherlands? In the middle of the Battle Royale that was going on (4 red cards! 12 yellow cards!), Maniche managed to excuse his terrible hair-style and score a fantastic goal with his fantastic fast moving feet. World Cup, DVDs, PS2, the Gym, and tons and tons and tons of work. Perfect for being a hermit.

A Kubhaer (aku-bear) needs a place to hibernate so I’m trying to sort out my bear cave. I say bear cave because when I’ve got the air-con pumping and the DVD rockin’, DON”T COME A’ KNOCKIN’! hahahahha. I’m particularly excited by the AV splitter that A’elahhhhh gave me. Once I connect a simple RCA cable to it, I can go between my PS2 and the DVD without having to change any wires! WHOA!

I’ve got grand plans for my room… but mostly grand plans of cleaning it and organizing it. I’d like it to be SUPER organized. I dream of getting a bigger TV, putting up some shelves, and cleaning up the windowsill area so I can whack some thai triangular cushions up there so people can relax and watch movies there. I need to repair my amp and hook up my speakers so I finally have some working sound-age. Nothing too fancy. Just a living space… my own living space.

I remember one intoxicated night at Brandeis many years ago, this one frat boy showed us how he had tricked out his dorm room. “My parents asked me if I wanted to do up my car or my room… and I said “DUH!” This guy had UV lights and the required posters, music synchronized lazer lights, lava lamps, and basically all these things that idiot drug culture subscribers think are important to keep your high going. He had spent about US$10,000 on them. I remember thinking that US$10,000 would pay for all my college loans and two return tickets to Boston. I swallowed that thought and ripped a hit from his 3 foot glass piece and suddenly everything was ok.

Hermitology is only part of my disease. I’m developing some kind of hybrid form of OCD. Some the blame should lie squarely on past relationships, but a lot of it is my own monster that I’ve been raising in the backyard of my consciousness. I still take as many showers as I can a day, but now I’m doing things like making sure I have spare batteries at home. I maintain an arsenal of AAA, AA, C, and D batteries for my remote controls, nose hair trimmer, alarm clock, and torchlight. I also make sure that I’ve always got stock. I had a small panic attack the other day as I had run out of spare C batteries. If my alarm clock was to suddenly use up 4 brand new Energizer batteries in the next 6 hours, I would not be ready to deal with the tragedy. Failure to plan is planning to fail.

I’ve also been grocery shopping. I felt like having juice the other day so now I have mango, apple, and orange juice at home. I felt like having a sandwhich so I cleaned out a section of my fridge, rearranged the contents and now it reads as follows… Yellow mustard, Honey mustard. Honey Dijon Mustard, Dijon mustard, Mild BBQ sauce, Spicy BBQ sauce, green and red Tabasco sauce, Mayo, Light Mayo, cream cheese, sour cream, cheddar cheese, mozzarella cheese… wholemeal, white bread, hot dog buns, burger buns (with and without sesame seeds)… I’ve also got sausages (pork and chicken), burgers (chicken and lean lamb), chicken slices, ham. I’ve finally figured out the oven toaster and now I’m grilling myself some glorious sandwhiches.

I haven’t been calling anyone. I haven’t been seeing anyone. I’ve just been trying to maintain as much radio silence as I can possibly handle. I called it an experiment earlier on, but it isn’t so much as something I’d LIKE to do as much as it is something I’m feeling quite compelled to do. I enjoy it. I drive without the radio on. I’m not actively ignoring anyone, it’s all very passive. I’m seeking audience with my inner monologue in a bid to find discipline and effort and so far so good. I get to work before everyone else these days. I’m putting in tons of time at the gym. I’m spending crazy amounts of time with my family.

We actually managed to go for a massive 20 person Chinese seafood family dinner all the way to Kuala Selangor a few days ago. I managed to round up everyone except my granddad (who begged to be let out of it. He’s vegetarian and old, and he knew he would be bored out of his mind in the 1.5 hour trip to KS before having to deal with our shenanigans. He was most happy at home in front of the TV without us hooligans there to kacau him) and off we went in a four car convoy.

It was hilarious trying to pack 20 of us into 4 different cars. Big Momma refused to ride with any of her sons because she said they drove like maniacs. Bhagwan insisted on sitting with Barista who inturn insisted on driving. Drunken Lawyer Cuz wanted all the aunties to go in one car, but he’s Big Momma’s son so therefore… H to the Izzo and me were patiently and dangerously negotiating the treacherous path to perfect seating solutions before an hour and a half drive. My dad and Big Poppa wanted to go with each other so they could talk about some law case. No way was I riding with them because invariably it would degrade into an argument which would then become a lecture (probably part of my dad’s Greatest Hits Series… Track 4, Disc 3: Why You Should Marry a Hindu. Dad likes to have quality time when you are trapped in a car. It is the worst). Hindu Cuz didn’t want to drive. #1 was busy trying to be #1… what do I mean? Well, #1 is a blog entry all on his own. Let me put it this way. He is always #1… if he isn’t, then he will make himself #1. Who’s the best? You #1… you are the best. In the end H to the Izzo and Me managed to get the best car, with Mogitron and Mogitron’s ubiquitous Chinese friend who has been coming to our family functions for the longest time. Let’s call her Angie.

I was so excited and I felt so family first, taking everyone out to Kuala Selangor. No one knew what the occasion was or why I was buying 20 fat people dinner. I kinda felt like I hadn’t seen these people in so long because of work, and who knows how much longer it would be before I saw them all together again, so might as well do it while I had the free time.

I also figured we could eat some lai liew ha, some hardcore crabs, some crazy steamed fish, some sotong, some oysters, some bamboo lala… the works! When we got there, my wonderfully middle class Indian family turned around and started to order our usual… Lemon Chicken, Kangkung Belacan, Dry Chilli Chicken, and Chilli Crabs. I had to put a stop to it but to no avail. In the end, they just ate what they wanted to, which was fine. They looked happy and made a lot of noise. We even started with a peanut fight, which was all fun and games until it hit my Grandma. #1 was probably responsible for it.

In something completely unrelated, I’ve been practicing my conversation steering. I had forgotten that certain jokes can be set up by the simplest of conversation fodder. Proof that despite my interesting weekly happenings, I’m also terribly boring so when I hit a good joke, I like to keep it going. My latest gem:

Office Guy: What are you doing?

Me: Drawing a map to my house.

Office Guy: Why?

Me: So I know how to get there…

*silence* OR *laughter all around*

One brilliant soul didn’t get the absurd humor of it. She asked for her name online to be Blurduh.

Blurduh: What are you doing?

Me: Drawing a map to my house.

Blurduh: Why?

Me: So I know how to get there.

Blurduh: Why? Don’t you ALREADY know?

Me: *sigh*

Whoosh!

2006-05-31T18:37:00.000+08:00

I have TONS of things to blog about, but I feel that my words alone don't do the stories justice. I am, however, notoriously inefficient at compiling all the pictures and videos of all the events I'd like to blog about. That being said, I managed to get my act (and technology together) and now I present to you...

AJ Hackett's Slingshot: A Reverse Bungy Experience at the base of the KL Tower.

It isn't as fun as it looks, but it beats everything else in KL by a factor of 5 katrillion right now.

Whooooooooosh! Spectacular views of KL, an amazing sunset, and brilliant company.

Thanks Karmela :)

P.S' Check out http://www.wefeelfine.org . It is such a wonderful extrapolation of blogging that I'll let the site explain its mission to you without me corrupting their message. My new favorite website.

Koobz of the Jungle

2006-05-11T23:45:00.000+08:00

Koobz of the Jungle
Originally uploaded by koobz.

I'm way too tired after this shoot to write anything substantial... I just wanted to share what I looked like on shoot yesterday. Funny thing is I had to AD half the shoot looking like that as well. More photos and the full Veetalogical breakdown within a week.

Hairless Whisper

2006-05-04T11:00:00.000+08:00

As some of you are acutely aware, my posts on this blog are signed off as Veet Fan. If you weren't aware in any acute or obtuse fashion, then all you need to do is scroll to the bottom. Veet Fan is not the Chinese name I always wanted but my parents never gave me. Veet Fan is like... Chelsea Fan, Swim Fan, Butt Sex Fan... a FAN of something. In this case it is Veet. Hair Removal Mousse. I am a fan of Veet Hair Removal Mousse. I've only used it once, but it left me feeling so smooth and silky, and like a woman all over again.

Hmmmm....

My office recently bought 3 cans of Veet Hair Removal Mousse. Each can is a different color, but they all have my name on it.

I'm going to do it... and then appear on national TV without my shirt on.

This is going to be AWESOME.

Stay tuned, negros.

What did I tell you?

2006-04-10T11:26:00.000+08:00

Anthony
Originally uploaded by koobz.

Anthony Bourdain couldn't agree more... Bak Kut Teh is the way to go. Who needs all that exotic fried insect, fermented soya bean, bull testicle, dog meat nonsense when you have the fine swine that is bak kut teh. Made in Malaysia. Made in my heart. *muah*

And thennnnnnnnnnnn........

2006-03-21T15:41:00.000+08:00

I had a weekend and a half.

First there was Gamarjobat. You could tell from the poster that this was going to be an awesome show. Aunty and myself wanted to see it from the moment we laid eyes on their big heads, but fate conspired against us, and then my schedule conspired against me. However, in a rare moment of opportunity, Saturday rolled around and after many phone calls and trips to the box office, Agency and myself managed to get tickets to their penultimate show. Inspector Saab had called earlier on and got me on the guest list at the Johnnie Walker party happening at the fancy new Mercedes showroom in town. It was F1 weekend, KL was the Grand Prix City, I had a freshly shaved dome... Everything was in place for a good night out. I even got to the theatre early and had a couple of beers while waiting for Agency to show up.

Gamarjobat didn't disappoint in the least. In fact, they were inspirational in their brilliance. They are a "shut-up comedy from Japan", which means that they do mime. Not paint your face, I'm a tortured soul stuck in a box mime, but sharp, extremely funny, extremely technical mime with exquisite timing. The secret is being a mime God is in the control of your body. If you are going to interact with something that isn't there, you have to act with your emotions and face like normal actors do, as well as your body. If I was going to mime the act of picking up an object from a table, my action has to take into account the weight, texture, resistance of said object. If my arm moves downward, picks up the object, and then moves upward again with no difference besides my fingers arranged in an object-clutching fashion, it would look fake and worse, stupid. However, if I take into account the additional weight of the object as my arm is moving upward i.e by tilting your wrist, the angle of your fingers, slightly altering the speed of the upward moving arm, then the action is made for more believable. When the action is far more believable, you can get into the spirit of the action in a much more comfortable fashion. With Gamarjobat, the quality of their mime is so excellent, you forget that they aren't using props. You assume the props are there. Just because you don't see them, it doesn't mean that they aren't. This is an amazing skill to have. It allows the audience to go straight to the meat of your performance. If you are trying to pantomime that your very small bag is heavy, you would have to pull and push at that small bag to no avail to communicate to me that it is heavy. If you can do this effectively, then I will move on to the next step of the performer-audience interaction, which is allowing your joke to develop within me and then we can go on the journey that the performer has set. If you pull and push at the small bag and it looks like you are playing keep-away with your 3-legged cat, then I will not believe you and will make fun of you with my professional mime friends. We will talk about how much of a loser you really are, and whenever you pretend like you are trapped in a box, we are all secretly wishing we could cover your head with a plastic bag instead.

So anyway, they were so good that you go straight to enjoying their show, and wah, their show was so enjoyable. For the first 20 minutes all they did was show off how damn good and funny they were. They had magic tricks, they had toilet humor, they had the escalator/elevator going up and going down thingy that I can watch for 12 hours straight and not tired, and they had tons of audience participation. They picked on me and I stood up and ably went through the motions well enough to deserve a second-picking on and a lollipop. I gave the lollipop to Agency and in her greediness, ate it on the spot, without even offering to share it. Bleardy shit. Now if I was me on stage, I'd pick on me too. Big brown fat guy with a shiny bald head, sitting in the front row, smiling happily with his arms folded in front of him, looking like a cross between Bob Hoskins and the Laughing Buddha? Dude... I might as well fax them two weeks in advance with my ticket number, politely requesting to be picked. This had led to my acceptance of audience interaction. The first time they picked on me was to react to this magical power they had where the first time they zap you, you freeze, and the second time they zap you, you unfreeze. A few audience members had some problems understanding the issue at hand, but I got it, they liked my reaction enough to pick on me again... but I don't remember what the hell for.

That memory was the first casualty of the evening.

You see, I had a shoot the next day, with a 7AM call time at location. Not just a regular shoot, but a shoot where my boss and mentor, The Brain Himself, was on the job as the baby wrangler. I did some careful calculation. Gamarjobat finishes at 10.30PM... Quick Drink with Agency till 11PM... Meet up with Inspector Saab @ Johnnie Walker's at 11.30PM... leave Uncle Johnnie's at 1AM... Shower and in bed by 2AM... Wake up at 6.30AM... On Set by 7AM. Perfect. Rocking. I've worked on far less sleep before. Besides, it was a reshoot and our talents were baby geniuses and the whole thing would be exxxxcellent.

I didn't, however, take into account the 15 or so whisky sodas I would end up drinking in an hour and a half. It was crazy. It was irresponsibility at its highest... a bull in a china shop, or an Indian boy in a freeflow of Johnnie Walker. Everytime I was almost done with one, some pretty young thing would sidle up next to me with my next beverage in their hand. Nothing else about that party was remarkable, except that there were a bunch of my good friends there, the place was really stylish, and the booze was flowing like chi. The rest of the crowd were wankers who had come for the glamour of it all but cleared out once they realized that the only ones who were left were the serious drinkers who only gave a shit about actually having fun and celebrating once they had gone out, and not to pose for the photographers (that being said, I ended up posing for at least 6 pictures that night). Pincushion just called to tell me he nearly got into a fight at that same party... some guy accused him of touching his wife, which never happened. The husband was so frustrated that he threw... wait for it... a whole pile of TISSUE at Pincushion. Whisky just makes everyone so manly.

The funny thing about drinking so much so fast is that it doesn't hit you until slightly later. I headed for my car at 1AM, right on time, and as I left, everything was ok... about 5 minutes into my ride home I suddenly realised that I was completely and utterly smashed and was seeing four of everything. Fuck. I felt so incredibly irresponsible. I hadn't done the drive with four of everything nonsense in so long. The only way you are going to survive it is if you close one eye and drive. This cancels out the 4 cars in front of you and leaves you only with the 1 real car, but the problem when you have one eye closed is that you can't judge distance... so when you get behind another car, drive with both eyes open and stay equidistant away from all 4 of the cars in front of you.

So driving drunk and seeing 4 is pretty fucked, but the worst part is that I completely forgot that I had shoot the next day, gave Cobra Commander a call and went over to see him in PJ for some late night breakfast. There we were at Pan Bakery, happily chomping away at pancakes and fried eggs when he turns to me and asks;

CC: Oi rendhi dog... what are you doing tomorrow?
Me: Nothing much... I got shoot in the morning, but then after that I'm free.
CC: You got shoot tomorrow morning? What the hell you doing here?
Me: Oh fuck... *tires screeching*

So I hope into my car and start heading back home, when I realise that I have met my match... I was too drunk to drive about 12 drinks ago, but now I'm way too drunk to even pretend to drive with one eye closed. I call my Guardian Angel in Providence and she proceeds to give me a massive yelling at, which I deserved, and tells me to pull over and get my brother to come pick me up. I thank her for her kind angry words, hang up, pull over somewhere near the Science Centre, call my brother, and then pass out. I wake up 30 minutes later to discover that I never pressed "Send" on my phone and the entire conversation I had with Don Jethwani was in my head and that it was now 2AM. I look around and realise I'm 2 minutes from home, so I suck it up and drive real slow all the way back home. I make my way from my driveway to my room in one smooth motion, jeans flying off, shoes kicked like habits, and as I'm climbing up my ladder to get to bed, my Internal Monologue says;

IM: Ok Koobz... it's only 2.15AM. Take your phone off of silent, set your alarm clock, and you can still make it.
Me: Ok set *zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*

The next thing I know it is already 8AM the next day, my maid is screaming at my door that my friend is outside... my friend? who the fuck? Call time was 7AM! ARGHHHHHHHh.... I put on a pair of shorts, brush my teeth, comb my hair (haha), and dash outside to find Azuzu and a runner van, happily smoking a cigarette at my gate. Azuzu is laughing his ass off because he had completely suspected my tardiness on that day and had come to my rescue like the hero he often is. I left everything behind at home... no smokes, no lighter, no wallet, no business card holder, no pen, no call sheet... All I had was my handphone. Great.

The shoot was an exercise in how not to shoot. We as a production team had miscalculated the level of preparedness that we needed to do what was supposedly "an easy job". It wasn't. It was a nightmare. The problems were mostly small and boring if you aren't in the industry, but it was particularly entertaining when the owner of the house we were shooting at suddenly materialized and went ape-shit that half of Hollywood was in his garden. See, we had permission from the tenant, whose lease was expiring in a week.. but she flew the coop the day before all the way back to Ole Blighty (England) and she was nowhere to be found. Her only representative was the thamby gardener, who was the one who opened the gates for us and all. The owner was about to shit himself. He was swearing and screaming at us to get out, and was particularly upset about a 0.5 x 0.5 x 0.5 metre hole we had dug in his beautiful lawn. We had permission, just not from him. So there he was in his fuming rage demanding that we leave his property and The Brain Himself was doing his whole Exec. Producer smooth talkeration on him. Now, it is one thing to have the authority to ask a film crew to do anything, but when you don't have the authority, then there is not much in the non-violent world besides a court case and the police that will get a film crew to move. If we have even the slightest permission to be there, we will be there.

A film crew is a small army. Moving it is no easy matter. Equipment needs to be packed up, cables need to be rolled, a destination needs to be decided, non-drivers need to be accounted for and so on and so forth. You've got the art dept truck, lighting truck, camera truck, facilities truck, grip truck, and the generator truck... one of those trucks don't show up to location and you don't have a shoot. The vans that bring the talents and the wardrobe people, or the ad agencies, or the clients, or the director and the DOP... one of those vans don't show up to location and you don't have a shoot.

So long story short, we didn't move. We had paid SOMEONE to use that place, and SOMEONE had said yes, and unless you can give us a damn good reason to move... The angry owner proceeded to fume his way out of there and was back 10 minutes later because in his infinite inability to drive his car, had broken his side mirror while trying to squeeze past a 3 ton truck. He blamed it on us, and we will take half the blame for sure... but he had already driven in without a problem, how come the car couldn't get past when he was driving out? We told him to send us a bill and we'd cover it. We just got the bill this morning... RM2100! Whudafuck? My favorite incident that morning though was bright red middle aged white guy who stormed into the compound of our location, and for some reason, looked straight at me... his eyes were bulging, he was a brilliant shade of lobster, chest heaving... "I WANT SOMEONE TO MOVE THEIR CAR! IT IS PARKED RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE! I'VE ALREADY ASKED TWICE BUT NO ONE WANTS TO HELP ME. MOVE THE CAR NOW!" and then he turns around and thunders off. The entertaining part of all this was that we got to see some pent-up rage release itself, but the not-so-entertaining part of all this was the total unprofessionalism that was reeking off that shoot, just like the whisky was reeking off my breath. I was still drunk till about 11.30AM before my hangover kicked in. Having a hangover on 4 hours sleep while running after 2 children in the equatorial sun is just about as bad as it can get. My brain was trying to force its way out of my left eye socket.

Then it got worse. We got rained on nice and proper and I'm not the kind of AD that lets my crew get wet trying to protect their equipment. I was out there with them, getting soaked to the bone, my insane headache going inside out as the raindrops exploded against my skull. It was some chubby-ass rain, and it was a sad-ass scene as I sat down and smoked a cigarette and contemplated the last 24 hours, and then the last 1 month of my life. It was good, but actually terrible. I was out of shape, addicted to all the wrong things and people, and just basically in control of absolutely nothing. It is a very depressing mood to be in, compounded by the hangover and a feeling that I have only been privy to since I started working in production. The feeling of being sunburnt and completely wet and the same time. Your boxers and socks are wet, but the back of your neck is sizzling. It is the worst.

So later on that evening when we were absolutely done with the shoot, I lit up a Marlboro Light and got into the runner van to send me home. It tasted like death, and everything I don't want to be or don't want to do in my life flashed thru my head. I opened the window and threw it out. I'm very aware of myself when I do irresponsible things in my life. I even hand out punishments to myself in order to get myself back in line, but the punishments are usually terrible... like as if I handed them out myself. They'd be along the lines of "No Playstation for you for at least 2 weeks... except if you want to play Winning Eleven, and then you are allowed 2 games a night, but only when playing your Master League"... see what I mean? Nonsense. Driving drunk. Wallowing in sadness. Going to work late and unprepared; These things are not on. So my punishment this time around is not so much a punishment, but a reward. I'm making my first fully fledged attempt at quitting smoking cigarettes and turning my lifestyle around a smidgen. So far its been 2 days 18 hours 4 mins and 39 seconds.

I'm not quitting for some girl, or to hide from my parents. I'm quitting for my health. So I can go to the gym and run more effectively. So I can save some money and my prostate from cancer. I'm also redesigning my diet. I'm not ON a diet, I'm just eating healthy... and going to the gym. My workout is a combination between my own regiment as well as "The Men's Health Hard-Body Plan: The Ultimate 12-Week Program to Burning Fat and Building Muscle". It sounds ridiculous but its a good book, or at least I think so. I also think it's going to take me more than 12 weeks, but fuck it.

I got all the time in the world. I just realized I'm 24.

For W to Keep Upon Finding

2006-02-28T15:03:00.000+08:00

"What’s this feeling?
My love will rip a skylight in the ceiling…
Give myself to you from the essence of my being" - Matisyahu

This is for the better, baby
This is for the best

Slowly my head will learn not to look down your street as I make my way home
Slowly the license plates that bear your name won’t burn my eyes
Suddenly the gym doesn’t need to be squeezed in
And I can stay as late as I want at work
It feels good to flirt again
It feels good to be free
It feels good to pay as much toll as I want to
But slowly the city that I’ve grown to love and hate will swallow me whole
My cells will regenerate and I’ll become someone else
And every memory that I’ve involuntarily assigned to your smile and kisses will fade away into something elseness
For now they still steal my breath

We went to every one of my refuges
Now my soul has no safe house
Your name doesn’t just flutter easily in the breeze
It is a typhoon that engulfs me
Storm swells that punish me
Yet I can see blue skies in the middle
This is achingly painful yet strangely ok
This is the best thing we could have done for each other
My only escape is my car
But even then I can’t bring myself to look at the empty seat to my left
For now at least

For now at least I can’t touch anything that doesn’t have your name emblazoned upon it
And there is so much
Too much
So we extricate our lives from each other from a safe distance.
I’m only beginning to shoot the time lapse photography of the dismantling of our love
F r a m e
B y
H e a r t
B r e a k i n g
F r a m e
And I won’t call you baby anymore
Won’t call you baby...

I’ve always understood but never accepted
You’d try to jump but I’d keep the tether on
Finally I get it, I’m letting go, you are free.
Find someone who’ll worship you as I did but do him a favor and work just as hard
Don’t listen to your loneliness or give in to mine

For now at least I’m looking to the heavens for new safe havens for my wellbeing
You are welcome to keep everything else, with no prejudice
So far I’ve got a lake, 2 more ocean views, and a waterfall that are mine all alone
Learning that you’ve got to find these places on your own
Learning that their beauty is enhanced because I can’t find you within the waters

Yet you are so eternally beautiful
And I’ll always see you at sunsets and good food

Cruising

2006-01-30T04:46:00.000+08:00

I really like the Kerinchi and Penchala Links. They are two shining gems in KL's traffic management system, which in my opinion, is getting better all the time. Both are well built, cutting one magnificent straight path from what is actually the start of Kepong all the way till the Federal Highway. The exits are well designed, and recently they opened up the new exit that connects the highway directly to Damansara Perdana and Mutiara Damansara. KL is changing. Almost every month there is some dramatic new edition to the face of the city.

The exits are everything I dreamt they would be. Fast, smooth, and wonderfully dramatic. You weave thru the air, dipping and banking before you come out 3/4 of the way up the Damansara Perdana hill. I haven't taken the Mutiara Damansara exit yet, I'm really looking forward to it. Leaving Damasara Perdana is just as delicious. You almost feel like you are taking off when you get on the highway, when really, it is merely the beggining of the inevitable. The eventual, set by fate, unavoidable destiny of the tollbooth. RM2 please.

Strange eh, the planning? On the Kerinchi Link side of it, the exits take us to the Federal Highway heading North and South, but neglects the massive Pantai Dalam, Kerinchi, Kerinchi Dalam, Pantai Hillpark areas that are RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE HIGHWAY. Why is that? The Kerinchi Link was built first, and has many years of assimilation into the community around it. THe Penchala Link is not so old, but as soon as they finished it they tacked on some exits to Damansara Perdana. Yeah yeah early planning and selling point to the Perdanarians, but it still stinks of that (and what the hell is up with the stink around the Kerinchi Link tollbooths? It smells like a herd of Wild Damansara elephants decided to take a communal piss around that area, every night. It smells terrible, all the bloody time). Now us middle and upper class folk don't need to even drive on the local roads anymore. The Bukit Damansarians and the Sri Hartamites can go straight to Ikea, the Curve, or visit their cool graphic designer/ lady of leisure friends without any traffic whatsoever. I like the convenience and just enjoying the well builtness and good planningeration of the whole highway. Sayang thinks that it is a waste of money to use the Penchala Link but I'll gladly sacrifice Jln Damansara for a little slice of good driving.

That being said, the whole of KL is good driving right now. Now KL gets pretty empty other times of the year, but nothing beats Chinese New Year. It is the closest the economy comes to actually coming to a grinding halt. How is anyone going to make money if the Chinese folk are taking a break? It ain't going to happen, negro. That's the beauty of Chinese New Year. In fact, it's made even more beautiful coz it's Chinese New Year AND Federal Territory Day AND Awal Muharram which just means so many public holidays in a row, which means even more people can get the hell out of Dodge leaving the city to the night owls and the city slickers.

Parts of it are frustrating though really, and it hasn't even begun. My check isn't going to clear till sometime next month, the DVD seller's are closed till Thursday, and I went and watched all 5 of my movies tonight. "Good Night, and Good Luck", is brilliant. George Clooney is turning out to be a lot different from what you may have initially thought of him. I can't wait to watch Syriana.

Coming back home at the crack of dawn this morning, Coldplay's "Fix You" was on the radio as I was savoring the desolation that is the Penchala Link on a public holiday at 8.15am. The air was cool, crisp, and in the hills you could see fog. The sun was rising and the whole sky was a gentle, bleeding, bloody orange. The gradient crept from mild to the opposite of mild, but the sun was constantly blocked by the Kiara hills. The guitars were still building up in the song, preparing for the massive, happy feeling climax that is "Fix You". Chris Martin was telling me that lights would guide me home, and ignite my bones. I believed him about guiding me home but highly doubted anything in the Setiakasih region would ignite my bones, or even come near my body with so much as a matchstick. Finally the tunnel came about on the highway and the radio went dead. The Brit-pop is replaced with the sound of El Stormo Guapo bouncing against the walls. The soothing low grumbling of the turbo diesel engine and the slightly whistling of the tyres. As I came around the dark side of the moon and started to pick up the Mix FM reception again on the other side, the song had already climaxed and it was the end quietness. The guitars had given way to silence and Martin's earnest voice cajoled my ear drums and bought it a curry-puff. My ears were sorted out, and for my eyes, the misty hilltops of Bukit Kiara had given way to a view of the KLCC and the KL Tower, with a maginificently red and orange sun glowing behind them.

I'll leave you with a gem of an SMS I found stored in my phone, received on the 6th of June 2005. I've repackaged it for the times, but it is still as pertinent and I feel like it is imperative to share with the world, or at least the Malaysians.

Tronic's Pantun Berbilang Bangsa, sempena Tahun Baru 2006, Awal Muharam, dan Tahun Baru Cina (woof):

King Jung Il manyak perabot,
Mutu Kayu sangat tinggi,
Sasterawan negara manyak kasut,
Kalah Sex and the Siti.

Gong Xi Fa Cai.

WHEEEEEEEEE!

2006-01-26T21:12:00.000+08:00

Have you heard of youtube.com? It's like flickr, but for moving piccies... My first contribution, courtesy of my free Sony camera.

I was recently in India for 2 weeks for my cousin Simi's wedding. My new relatives are damn cool, and the wedding itself was brilliant. Took a lot of pictures which will be uploaded soon, but some of the most fun I had during that 2 week trip to the open bar was when Herukh and I paid the auto rickshaw driver 60 rupees and told him to let us drive it.

Check it out.

http://www.youtube.com/w/?v=ZKy9wYZSAxo

Part 2 of a Really Long Story

2005-11-22T15:15:00.000+08:00

I’ve never been an owner of much stuff. I just tend to spend most of my money on eating at expensive restaurants, drinking, and other social pursuits. I’d much rather drop RM200 on a good dinner than buying myself a pair of shoes that I like, and maybe kind of need as well. Thus my wardrobe sucks, and I just generally lacked most of the STUFF that other people just kinda had, or saved up to buy in the first place. Saving up to buy stuff was beyond me until I got a regular job and started getting a regular paycheck and realized that I didn’t need to spend my money all at once.

Not that I’m rolling in the cash right now, but all of a sudden, I find my bank account subscribing to the just-in-time philosophy of stock replenishment.

Which means I’m starting to get stuff. Bloody capitalist.

It started with the RM200 slippers.

Then I was rewarded with a beautiful cell phone for being a good Samaritan.

Then came the thumb drive.

Then I won the digital camera… and went out and bought myself a nice big memory card and a cool carrying case.

Then I bought myself a lap-top.

Then I got a pair of sunglasses and a beautiful Crumpler bag for my birthday.

My latest addition is an iPod Shuffle… that I won in a contest that actually I didn’t win, but I won in the end anyway. See? Contest lifestyle. I’m telling you, it is the shiznit.

STUFF?! I was never into stuff before, but now I’m learning that handling your shit means you can buy shit, and if you take care of your shit, you can enjoy your shit for longer. Shitttttttteeeeeeeeee. This is a simple concept for normal people, but somehow, I missed school on the day that they were teaching simple life skills to people. I swear my life skills are just fucked. If it weren’t for Sayang, I’d still be a grimy fatty. Now I’m a cleaner not-so-fatty.

Anyway, I know my acccumalation of stuff is hardly impressive, but screw you, it’s a coup for me. When I was a kid, my parents got me “Rhino” from the cartoon Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma M.A.S.K. Rhino was the red 18 wheeler truck that that Bruce Sato used to drive. Bruce's mask was Lifter and made him look like a WW1 soldier in a gas mask but could send out concentric circles of energy that could lift stuff. Useful when off-roading. If you know your cartoons you'd realise that M.A.S.K was brilliant and Rhino was the pimpest ride in a show full of pimps. The rear could extend and out would come a misslle launcher. Rhino makes the Bradley Fighting Vehicle look like Shawn Bradley. I also lost Rhino the day after I got it. This is a trend repeated throughout my life, so for me to ACCUMULATE stuff is just mind-boggling.

Do you see the link a.k.a the point of this long story? Remember my twerk? My iPod was responsible for it. Which brings me to another contest lifestyle story… that I will write another time.

This is a good feeling by the way. I told myself that when I splurged on my Powerbook that I would blog more, that I would write more, and promised to be more hardworking in general. Omong-omong kosong as Jeng Jeng Jeng would say. Maybe now I can start filling up my omong and finally get somewhere in my life.

“I was sick about awards,
couldn’t nobody cure me,
Only playa that got robbed
But kept all his jewellery” – Kanye West, “Diamonds are Forever”

Part 1 of A Really Long Story

2005-11-21T12:10:00.000+08:00

I am completely aware that I haven’t updated in absolute donkey years. There is no need to remind me, because, I actually like blogging. Bloody hell, I’m going to come out and admit it. I don’t love blogs, but I really do like a few, and enjoy just following the progress. I’ll even admit that while initially (and in the present, still slightly) dubious of the entire concept, I like the concept of blogging. Yet, I would not be sitting down tonight if it weren’t for something wonderful that twerked inside this afternoon.

That twerk was, here it is, the song “Under Pressure” by Queen, on their Greatest Hits 2 album. The bassline to that song was sampled and eventually became the beat for “Ice Ice Baby”. A beat so brilliant that when we hear it we automatically launch into:

“Alright stop,
collaborate and listen…
Ice is back with a brand new invention
Something
Grabs a hold of me tightly
Flow like a harpoon,
Daily and nightly
Will it ever stop?
Yo, I don’t know
Turn off the lights, and I’ll glow

To the extreme, I rock the mic like a vandal
Light up the stage and
I’ll wax a chump like a candle.”

That’s all I personally remember, but that’s enough. Go to Mumbo Jumbo on Wednesday nights @ Zouk and when “Ice, Ice Baby” comes on, the crowd goes absolutely drunken Indian lawyer on your ass. Everyone is your best friend. If you can walk, you can run, if you can sing, you can dance. Johnnie Walker is my uncle… Uncle Johnnie. It’s all so EMOTIONAL.

Wah. I’m so tired. Work takes up 99% of my time and the other 1% gets shared badly between Sayang, homelife, and friends. Very badly. My body hurts and I don’t get enough sleep and I my eating habits are not bad or terrible, but they are plain stupid. My mind is in a Jln Tun Razak traffic jam that I take twice every day mess. I haven’t been eating Bak Kut Teh of late. But somehow that Twerk brought some color back into my day. Music always seems to do that. I don’t know whether this is true for everyone, but I routinely forget where to look for GOOD music. I’m not talking about Tower Records or Limewire, but I mean who? Some new music is good, but where do you listen to the stuff that makes you happy from the inside? I’m not one of those fuckers complaining about new music, by the way, I just agree that a lot of older stuff is more brilliant.

Queen are brilliant. Yes yes, a bit gay, but still brilliant. You don’t own one of their albums but you’ve definitely heard their music. You would be surprised how many Queen songs you’ll listen to and go “Oh, I didn’t know this was Queen…” and then perhaps pause for a briefest moment as you consider whether to start listening to more Queen. You should. You should either listen to Queen once every 2 months, or two to three times every month (you have the option). A lot of people are quick to call their favorite bands “truly progressive” but Queen definitely are. They have so many different sounds.

Listen to “Flash”, which is a strange, minimalist, musical style homage to Flash Gordon. The one note bassline and drums drone repeatedly and laced with Flash Gordon samples while the band punctuates it, singing “FLASH! Aaaaahhhhhh ahhhhhh!” It sounds terrible but it works.

“We Will Rock You” and “We are The Champions” are some of the biggest clichés in pop culture but listen to them again and realize that they are brilliant songs. “Radio Ga Ga” is 80’s dreamy magical. Synthesized pianos and Freddy Mercury’s mustache only hear Radio ga ga, radio goo goo. This song is a brilliant counterpoint to “Video Killed The Radio Star”. Someone should take the bassline and turn it into a dance track. It would work mannnnnnnnnn.

The quirky songs are what really define Queen for me. They sound almost musical-like in quality with their long grandmother stories and the chorus ooooh-ing and aaaaah-ing away. The funny thing is that I hate musicals. They irritate me (ok lah, some are good, but most of them make me want to bang my head on the wall). This music though is varied, layered, intelligent, and damn good in general. They switch keys and tempo and everything about the song whenever they God damn feel like it, woman. The bridge in “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boys” always makes me smile. “Play The Game” reminds me of the Beatles, but with more of an electric guitar kick. I’m listening to the song now. It’s such an evil guitar that they have axing thru their 4 part harmonies.

Apparently, one funeral undertaker in Britain, who will normally acquiesce to anything, refuses to allow people to play “Another One Bites The Dust” at funerals he organizes. You may play anything else you want, like Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back”, but not THAT song. Maybe he doesn’t want the dead to spin in their graves before they get there…

Queen’s music has a very inspirational feel to it. It is never evil or malicious. It is always positive in message, and if not at least happy, hopeful. This story could go on forever, so I’m just going to name my other favorite Queen songs (this is really turning into a blog kind of blog… which I said I would never do, but hah). In no order:
1. Bicycle Race
2. Don’t Stop me Now
3. You’re My Best Friend
4. Bohemian Rhapsody (remember “Wayne’s World?”)
5. Killer Queen
6. I Want to Be Free
7. Fat Bottomed Girls (YOU MAKE THE ROCKING WORLD GO ‘ROUND!)
8. Who Wants to Live Forever? (remember “Highlander?”)
9. Now I’m Here
10. Crazy Little Thing Called Love (yes, it’s a cover)
11. Somebody to Love (which has one of the best intros in rock).

But let’s not forget Jay-Z.

Good segway, huh? Apparently Dubya gave Junichi “But-July-ok” Koizumi a Segway scooter recently. Fucker. Never got anything for me oso.

Anyone has a shred of doubt that Jay-Z is the undisputed MAN of the rap world should watch the documentary that Roc-a-fella commissioned while Jiggaman was recording the “Black Album”, his opus. We get to watch him working with Kanye West, Timbaland, Pharrel, Rick Rubin, and all his other producers. He checks in on them periodically and rips their work to shreds but then each of them have one track up their sleeve that makes his eyes light up and then the magic starts…

He walks into the booth, and lays almost the entire track in one take. Not some rough draft nonsense… nearly a 100% of the finished version. If he misses anything, he plays back the beat along with his last take and listens to it patiently and then just fills in the blank when it comes along. The lyrics aren’t lightweight either, the nigga be droppin’ gems.

In “Moment of Clarity”, Jay talks about his success and also addresses the other rappers who aren’t poyo (lame)… 2Pac, Kweli, Common Sense and others. He says:

“We as rappers most decide what is most important,
and I can’t help the poor if I’m one of them,
So I got rich and gave back,
To me that’s the win-win,
So next time you see the homey with his rims spin,
Just know that my mind is working just like them,
The rims that is…”

Other brilliant rhymes include:

“I’m strong enough to carry Biggie Smalls on my back, and the whole BK, nigga’ holla back” – Moment of Clarity

“From bricks to billboards, from grams to Grammys,
The O’s to opposite the Orphan Annie,
You got to pardon Jay,
For selling out the Garden in a day
I’m like a young Marvin in the hey,
I’m a hustler, homey
You’re a customer, crony
Got some dirt on my shoulder…
Could you brush it off for me?” – Dirt off Your Shoulders

“When you first come in the game, they try to play you,
Then you drop a couple of hits, look how they wave to you” – Encore (which would anytime make my All Time mix CD. Kanye West has outdone himself on this track).

“I never ask for nothing that I don’t demand of myself,
honesty, loyalty, friends and then wealth,
death before dishonor, and I tell you what else...” – Justify My Thug (which has a terrible chorus, but the rest of it is damn good).

“So cry me a river, build a bridge and get over it” is my favourite line but I can’t remember what song it’s from. Fooooooooo yooooooooooooo!

Ok… that’s the end of Part 1. This doesn’t sound like much of an adventure, but trust me, it is. It involves more contests, activating digital lifestyles, the American Embassy, Gwen Stefani, and just a ton of crap. Check back in about a week.

Contest Lifestyle!

2005-08-12T12:13:00.000+08:00

Sometime last month, I was looking for movie showtimes on Cinema Online (which is a cool site by the way. Instead of going to either the TGV or GSC sites for movie times, here you can go to one site and access cinema info for both the big local chains). I think I wanted to watch Batman Begins, or War of the Worlds, or National Lampoon and Your Mother... the name of the movie escapes me, but whatever. I was distracted by one of those flashing contest buttons on the side.

In my opinion, I'm not a fully fledged Internet user. I just stay as non-participatory as I possibly can. Yes, I'm on Friendster and Flickr. Yes, I use ICQ, AOL InstantMessenger, Yahoo Messenger, and MSN Messenger ("though not all at the same time. That'd be a record or something" - Kenny Mayne)... but I don't BUY anything online. I don't participate in the e-commerce aspect of it all. I don't shop E-bay or Amazon. I can't become a Pro member on Flickr. The only website that I have an honest subscription to is paid by my office. So this means that everytime I see certain buzzwords on the net, like "contest" or "enjoy" or "join" or "browse" etc. I just don't. I shrug and if I can, download it illegally. Unless it is Malaysian. Always buy original Malaysian stuff. Pastikan Ori. For everyone who is going to complain, my conscience and I really couldn't care less, so don't.

Anyway, distractiing flashing contest button. What really got my attention was "Win a Digital Camera", because hey, I need a digital camera. I can use it for work. I can use it for play. I can use it for all sorts of combinations between work and play. I can buy a large memory card for it. I can buy a 12 in 1 memory card reader and plug it into my laptop that I'm going to buy and then upload it through WiFi onto my pro Flickr account, blog it all at one go, and then Photoshop the pictures and send them out all over the world. One of the pictures will get the attention of a particularly powerful friend in the creative department of an international advertising agency who is facing a mental block who will then use it in a presentation to his clients and completely win them over. The picture will then be used on billboards and t-shirts and coffee mugs and can be downloaded as a desktop wallpaper in many different sizes. Someone will make an animation based on the picture. Someone will appropriate the symbolism into graffiti.. and I will collect royalties and try to work on making one hit song which will then essentially go through the same process and I can collect even more royalties. Who needs to read "Rich Dad, Poor Dad" when you have a digital camera and a dream?

The contest was simple. So simple it was stupid. The most number of correct entries (read: text messages) would win and each entry costs RM0.50. The contest was called "Wau Word Crazy June 2005!" and let me just explain to you the basic stupidity of the questions...

First you send them your registration information in the following format:

WAU WC KOOBZ

and then they send you the question:

PE_PER

And all you have to do... seriously... is fill in the one letter blank. Now, this might be complicated to some, but I think my ego is big enough for me to say that this was damn easy. There is no way that PE_PER becomes PEMPER, PEZPER or PEBPER. PE_PER becomes PEPPER. No arguments.

So then you reply:

WAU WC PEPPER

and if you get the answer correct, they send you the following question. Something along the lines of:

CA_SICUM

CAHSICUM? CATSICUM? CABSICUM? No. CAPSICUM. Please do not argue.

So off I went. I decided I'd send in 20 entries (for a total of RM10), check my ranking (WAU WC RANK) and if I was close to winning one of the consolation prizes of 5 movie tickets, I'd be golden. The contest was ending within 24 hours and I was sure that the SMS crazy residents of Malaysia would be well ahead of me... but they weren't. For a mere 20 entries, I was ranked #24. So then I figured I'd send in another 10 entries and check my rank and it couldn't be much higher, but it was. #15. The Grand Prize of the Sony 4.1 Megapixel camera was still on the screen in front of me and taking into calculation the retail price of the camera, the cost per SMS, the number of hours left in the contest, and my steep climb up the Wau Word
Crazy rankings, I stood a good chance.

So I bloody went for it. 3 hours of rapid fire SMS later, I was ranked #3. I'd like to think it was because I was a genius, but it wasn't. I was just a hardworking idiot. I kept going though. I wanted the camera, not the 10 free movie tickets (which by now, was not free... it was merely RM10 less).

AMBUL_NCE, DO_TOR, S_RGERY, ACCIDE_T, WA_CH

1 hour later, I was #1. I didn't do anything in the office that day except stare at my phone. Just for posterity, I sent another 40 messages while I was on top so I could increase the distance between myself and the impending losers. Co-workers would ask me to do something and I would say "No, I'm busy winning a digital camera... ask me tomorrow". Answers like this don't usually go down well @ work, but sometimes you just have to be a dickhead about things. I didn't even know what camera it was. All I knew was that it was a Sony 4.1 Megapixel Digital Camera... and that it was MINE.

I stopped messaging and just hung back for a while. Hogs was my advisor and biggest cheerleader. He gave me advice on how to just chill and let the competition come to me and then take them on, rather than me exerting too much energy taking the game to them. Like a boxer. Hogs used to be a boxer. Not like a guy who works at docks or at TV factories, but more like Mike Tyson. Except that if Hogs is Mike Tyson, I am Mel Gibson as Christ.

A few hours later. 2200hrs. 2 hours to the deadline. I went for a meeting and to the gym, comfortable with the thought that as I headed in to my 3 hour contest blackout, I was still in the lead. As El Stormo Guapo cruised over the Penchala Link, I sighed with content and reached for my big handphone. Expertly I sent in the rank request with my left hand and steered the Maroon Monster with my right. Sayang was waiting for me @ her place. My abs were burning. Life was good, but I WAS SECOND! I dropped the phone and turned off the air-conditioner as I proverbially stepped on the gas (turning off the AC gives you better mileage, especially when you are speeding).

As Sayang opened the door for me, I calmly announced that I couldn't have much conversation or good hang out time with her until midnight as I had some digital camera winning to do. Her family were laughing at me (but I think that is normal, so ok) but I didn't mind. Sayang was laughing at me. If the people at work could've seen me, they would have been laughing me. I didn't let me family know at all because they would have laughed at me first and then berated me for wasting so much money... but all that would have been moot if I didn't start moving faster. 30 minutes to the deadline and I was still second. The thought of winning a DVD player crossed my mind and I shrugged and slowly began to ferment my sour grapes. I mean, a
DVD player is cool too... you can... play DVDs on them... but I don't want a DVD player. I wanted a digital camera. I wanted to be irritating and see every one of my pictures right after I had taken them. Realising my clunky, color screen very gadgetarial handphone was actually slowing me down, I switched sim cards with Sayang for her more older generation Nokia with more stream-lined software that was more efficient at, go figure, communicating.

Actually can someone from Nokia answer me that? Why is it harder and more cumbersome and SLOWER to send SMS, type in your keypad, or even connect calls with the new generation of hardcore phones? Bloody shits.

With Sayang's phone, I was able to send up to 4 messages per minute and I got on my speedy, kinda expensive horse and for the next 15 minutes, just went absolutely Maxis Speedmaster on the contest's ass. I don't remember much about that night apart from staring down at the phone in my lap. Sayang was watching some show and I was grunting answers to her questions and small talk. She took the hint after awhile and left me alone.

2345hrs! I checked my rank and JASON LO AND BEHOLD I WAS BACK AT NUMBER ONE but damnit, I knew that if I didn't keep on going for the next 15 minutes that there was some cobra hiding in cellular space waiting to steal my digital camera from me. Before I could even follow through on my no retreat, no surrender, no mercy because you will get none yourself plans, it was 2355hrs and the contest just stopped.... Huh. Just like that. Based on 10 minutes ago, I was number one, but that was 10 minutes ago and many millions of things have happened in much less time (hmm... at this point I was going to list out a large number of disasters, tragedies, and other things of utmost and severe important to the human race but I've decided to leave it out and just mention the concept instead. I think it would be really rude to compare
my quest for a digital camera to those events in such detail. Speaking in general is fine, just don't think of anything really evil and bad. Think about something happier). I wasn't really sure what the hell happened but I thought I had won. Sayang gave me a kiss on the cheek and I relaxed into her couch. I think we were watching CSI. I was watching nothing.

One week later, I went by Cinema Online's contest winner's page and found this:

Wau Word Crazy
June 2005

1st Prize = Sony 4.1 MP Digital Camera
Kubhaer Thakurdas Jethwani

2nd Prize = XV-N312S DVD Video Player
6012XXX9203

3rd = 10 Movie Passes
Foong Pui Fan

4th = 6 Movie Passes
Damayanti a/p Ramachenderan

5th = 4 Movie Passes
6012XXX8689

Special Prize (7,14,21,28,35) = 2 Movie passes
Gerald Lian
Yap Chui Lay
Mohd. Radhee Ramdhan b Yusoff
Pua Ying Li
6012XXX6899

and as it turns out, I had won this:

SO-DSC-S40_LG

2005-08-12T12:12:00.000+08:00

SO-DSC-S40_LG
Originally uploaded by koobz.

Sony DSC-40. It's an older model, which means it has a viewfinder and it runs on AA batteries... but if you really think about it, these are good points. Plus it is a little bulky and solid, which means it is easier to hold still than all these silly little extra thin and narrow cameras they are coming up with. All in all I calculated that I sent about 150 to 200 messages... at RM0.50 per, I estimated my bill to come up to an additional RM100 or maximum, RM150. Which was absolutely correct when I got my bill. RM150 for a RM1000 camera? Cheers Cinema Online!

Adjust

2005-07-14T14:00:00.000+08:00

Adjust
Originally uploaded by koobz.

Sometimes if you sit down too fast, they get in the way... then you have to stand up again and adjust them properly.

Relief

2005-07-14T13:56:00.000+08:00

Relief
Originally uploaded by koobz.

After a long day's work, there is nothing better than a good scratch.

Beautiful Island (PART 2a)

2005-07-02T17:04:00.000+08:00

Note: Aunty is now officially known as Sayang.
-------------------------------------------------------------

A few months after getting my license, El Stormo Guapa came into my life. She brought along some independence, macho street credentials, and a 2.5 litre turbocharged Diesel engine with 4WD.

There aren't suitable words to describe the grunting sound that comes to mind right now.

Penarik and I decided that the time was ripe to take ESG for her first off-road adventure, but first we would start with some BKT in Klang. We took the old road there and explored the city centre for a while and found what looked to be quite a promising establishment. It bloody sucked and was a bad start to the night. We got out of dodge as fast as we could and realised that from Klang town, we had no idea how to get to Pulau Indah. No worries. Penarik and me pride ourselves on being adventurers so we just took the road that "felt" right.

We felt all the way through the town, past the hospitals, heading towards the part of the sky that felt like ocean... I mean, there has to be an ocean for there to be a port, right? Straight through the heart of Klang until we came across this massive elevated highway and followed under it for a while before getting on to it and then we felt like we had to go left, so we did, and lo and behold came across the bridge crossing the river and the signboard saying "Pulau Indah".
Awwwwwwww shieeeeeeeeeeet.

On our previous visit to Pulau Indah, we had found an asphalt road that took us past a half completed housing estate but then transitions unceremoniously into a dirt track very fast. In the Volvo we turned around and went through the village instead, but in El Stormo Guapa, we decided that the housing estate should be our first stop. We knew where the village road was kinda going, this one was a complete unknown. All the more fun to follow it. You already know what I'm going to say next... we followed the dirt road.

High Beams on. Neutral Gear. Switch to 4WD High. Back to Drive. Drove.

ESG took to offroading like ice to a whiskey soda. While the Volvo was plodding at 10km/h, ESG was sailing along at about 45. Now, I realise that you shouldn't be driving so fast off-road, but it wasn't the Kalahari or even the Camel Borneo Expedition. It was just a dirt road. In retrospect Penarik was a bit of a pussy with regards to his aunty's car. But then again, it was his aunty's car and she is a bit of a stickler.

After a few minutes on the dirt road we busted out onto a small dirt clearing with a cute little dirt junction. To the left was an abandoned kampung house, and to the right was the village road we had used the last time we were here! Our theory of "All Dirt Roads lead to Dirt Rome" was true and we stopped to do a little jig. Actually we just turned to each other and nodded. The best way to enjoy revelations and discoveries like this is in absolute silence. I mean, conversation silence. We were listening to the Lost in Translation soundtrack which turned out to be perfect. There was something infinitely serene about that music wafting through the pitch blackness. Sofia Coppola has a damn good eye but she has even better ears. We lit a cigarette and sped off. The mocking of the Angler's Resort signboard could not be heard over the grunting of El Stormo Guapa.

Beautiful Island (PART 1)

2005-06-18T18:15:00.000+08:00

A couple of years back, Aunty, Penarik and myself had just chowed down on some most righteous Bak Kut Teh somewhere along Jln Ipoh when we decided that at some point in the near future, we should head to Klang to sample the pork delicacies in that part of the world. After all, Klang has a reputation for being the birth place of that most omnidelicious of all pork dishes and the spring onion on top of the soup is that Klang is by the sea! We could see the ocean AND eat some fine swine.

We finished our tea as we stroked our full bellies, pretending to schedule an actual time to go when it occurred to me that we should just go to Klang right there and then... you know, for shits and giggles. It was midnight and nothing would be open by the time we got there, but at least we could check out the geography of the place and most importantly, see the ocean. We hopped into Penarik's fancy Volvo and headed off to the promised land.

Its funny how Malaysian roads don't have signs saying "OCEAN", so we didn't really know where to go, but I remembered that there are signs for Pulau Indah (Beautiful Island) and next to the name is a wee caricature of a sailboat. Perfect. It didn't say "OCEAN", but it had a wee sailboat AND it was an island. There MUST be some body of water next to it.

It felt like we were going on holiday! The music was good, the company was better, and the roads were like buttah. 45 minutes of Pulau Indah roadsign following later, we hit a bridge that started carrying us across what I assume to be the Klang River and gosh darnit, we were excited. The road kept going and so did we. The ocean was at the end of it, we could smell it.

Technically, we were right. The ocean WAS at the end of the road, but before you could get to the proverbial end, you had to go through customs and security at Westport... the newest and most high tech container terminal of the Port Klang system. There was no ocean. Just floodlit orange streets, trailers blazing down the highway, and stacks and stacks and stacks of containers. The giant cranes that unload the ships could be seen in the background and there was no way that we were going to get through customs.

Instead of giving up, we asked for directions to the ocean from a confused convenience store dude and he said that there is a beach but we had to cut through the nearby kampong. 3 point turn, 2 km of backtracking, and 15 minutes of village navigating later, we found a signboard saying "ANGLER'S RESORT... 15KM ->". This was it! The road that lay before us was a shy dirt one, and it was dark as night all around us. We figured that the dirt road was the product of roadworks and that the asphalt would kick in soon, so we said what the fruck and got on it.

Penarik was worried about his fancy Volvo on the rough dirt, so we drove at about 10km/h (he was really worried). The headlights illuminated our path and it was beautiful. We could tell we were near the ocean and also that we were on giant sand flats. Nocturnal birds jumped out of the way of the car, and actually it was all very scary, but at the same time... and I use this word alot... beautiful. It was so nice to be in KL and we oohed and aahed at the limited view we had around us. Snatches of ponds could be seen, the occasional signboard for bait, and after about 20 minutes, another signboard saying "ANGLER'S RESORT... 12KM ->". Fuck. All that time and we had only covered 3 KM? We did the math and it wasn't looking good because it was nearly 3am by now and we still had to make our way back in the slow, fancy Volvo. At that rate, we'd only get back to KL the next month. Which is a great thing, except that Aunty had work and Penarik and myself had college. Bloody shit.

We turned around, rued the moment, and vowed to come back here at some point in our lives.

TBC (which means "To Be Continued", not "To Be Chinese")

2005-05-20T22:32:00.000+08:00

The new Pope loomed large as he blessed his first highway...

2005-05-20T22:26:00.000+08:00

I think it is wonderful that from the tops of buildings, people look like ants and on the bottom, ants look like people.

2005-05-20T22:25:00.000+08:00

PRINCE ALI, MARVELLOUS IS HE, ALI ABABWAAAAAAAAAA... the High Courts at the new administrative capital of Malaysia, Putrajaya.

This could have been good, but I'm lazy...

2005-05-20T21:32:00.000+08:00

Joining the production industry in KL has definitely changed me as a human being. I don't know whether the overall change is for the better or worse, but on a micro level, there are some very brilliant new skills that I'm acquiring. Things like punctuality, efficiency, and the wonderful ability to find you almost anything you want in this city.

I've also made a very conscious decision to keep my bitching to a 5 minute minimum for each non-industry friend I meet. I don't want to be that guy who complains about his job all the time. That being said, there are tons of things that I absolutely detest about work. Let me explain a little bit about production for a second though...

There are three phases to a confirmed shoot. The first phase is the prep stage, where you go about finding locations, talents, equipment, crew etc. It's the planning and presenting to clients stage. The second stage is the actual shooting of the commercial and the third stage is post-production where the processing, editing, and special effects are done. The first stage is what I absolutely hate. The third stage I don't know enough about because I'm always busy on the first two stages. The second stage though, I am absolutely in love with.

My good friend Pizza the Kid (Mr.Wong Himself) once described shoot as "exams after you've been studying like a fucker for a month". Which is the perfect way to describe them. Rushed late-night prep periods feel exactly like picking up your textbook at 6pm the day before mid-terms and the resulting shoot feels exactly like sitting in an exam hall and just praying that the stuff you studied for comes out. A lengthy prep period makes you extremely eager to go to shoot... it is a special feeling watching all the work that I hate to do coming together seamlessly in an intelligent, chronologically efficient, manner... and bugger it all. Shoot is FUN.

Today I got to drive a fire engine red BMW 330 Ci convertible with 19" Brighton rims and a Brighton bodykit back from the outskirts to the middle of the city. This is a serious car and when you drive it, alot of people turn around to have a serious look at it. It is triptronic and the gear shift is from the steering wheel, to give you that quasi-F1 feeling. It is effortlessly powerful, handles like a pair of handles, and is something I'd never have the opportunity to do on my current paycheck.

In the short time I've been working at Your Mother Pictures, I've got to do some cool things...

- Go all over the city on technical recces. Access to rooftops of skyscrapers in the center of town hence some of the best views of KL. Some have beautiful swimming pools, some have been around since the early 1900's. All make me love my city even more. From 40 storeys above the ground, traffic jams look fun.

- Drop a half-ton metal plate into the Klang River, smack in the middle of downtown KL from about 70 feet above the water... and then raise it back up and do it all over again. It creates a splash about 20 feet high and sounds like a bomb going off.

- Guide a helicopter to its proper landing area and then guiding it back up into the air.

- Go swimming in an underwater river

- Meet, flirt, and talk absolute nonsense with some of the hottest women I've ever seen.

- Watch countless sunrises and be amazed by each and every single one of them. My favorite was at the paddy fields in Sekinchan. Green as far as the eye can see, fog, birds flying in formation, silhouttes of old kampung houses, old man on a bicycle, purple clouds, orange skies. Gor-ges.

- Carry a walkie talkie.

- Drive El Stormo Guapo through Mars like terrain on the top of hill.

- Wade through leech infested ponds.

- Race that BMW convertible while driving a tricked out Mitsubishi Airtrek Turbo through morning traffic. Being late for crew call does amazing things to your ability to charge through traffic.

- Use a loud hailer.

- Cover the brand new unlaunched national car with a truckload of "mucus" (cooked tapioca starch with green food coloring).

- Smash a car with a sledgehammer and then turn it on its side. After that I had to get in and climb out through the window while acting like I didn't know what hit me.

- Flatten an entire beach with a tractor.

- Yell at massive amounts of extras.

- Work with a fun loving bunch of pirates (the crew).

Ok lah enough already. I love shooting. I love the focus, the maddening pace, the constant vigilance, the absolute control that one needs to co-ordinate 45 or so people through the blazing hot sun.

There is more but I'm exhausted. I started writing this blog coz I was too tired from today's shoot to go home immidiately. Now I'm too tired to continue writing it. Instead, I'm going to be lazy and post some pictures.

Man, this is my worst entry ever. I guess I really contradicted my opening paragraph.

Whatever, balls.

2005-05-16T21:14:00.000+08:00

Fun with Wigs, #1 in a Series

2005-05-16T21:13:00.001+08:00

Fun with Wigs, #2 in a Series

2005-05-16T21:13:00.000+08:00

doo doo doo doo

2005-05-16T21:10:00.000+08:00

Found in a credit cart debt collection agency filled entirely with machas...

2005-05-16T21:01:00.000+08:00

Anyone have any idea what "Ladunie" means? No point even offering a partial translation if you don't have the third word of a 5 word sentence.

2005-05-16T20:58:00.000+08:00

I'm not a very good older brother... but on his birthday, I managed to get home at 5 like normal people do and spent the rest of the evening teaching him how to ride his bike. 1 month later and he's learning how to bust no-handers down the street. Goombastic!

2005-05-16T20:55:00.000+08:00

The Eye of Koobz... reminds me of R2-D2 on Tatooine

2005-05-16T20:52:00.000+08:00

Hogs of the Mountain...

2005-05-16T20:49:00.000+08:00

All the other condensers gathered around when it became obvious that they had a jumper on their hands...

2005-05-16T20:45:00.000+08:00

I don't like being monitored... especially by Johnny 5.

2005-05-16T20:44:00.000+08:00

This sign doesn't need a witty caption.

2005-05-16T20:42:00.000+08:00

This is where you go to school to learn how to be my mother...

2005-05-01T19:47:00.000+08:00

Ladies and Gents, Krishen Singh! I love this picture of him. He even did his famous Krishen pose as we joked about what could have been if he were a Sikh...

2005-05-01T19:43:00.000+08:00

The Old Man in healthier days... with another one of his crazy shirts.

2005-05-01T19:10:00.000+08:00

The gang... I you can't really make them out (except for the fatty in red) but somewhere in there is Zahim, Ivy, Fred, Ramesh, Gabrielle, Mark, Adrian, Wyn, May Lin, Marion, Raju, Sunil, Nina, Angie, Kung Yew, Andre, Huzir, Claire, and fast becoming one of my all-time favorites, Marge.

2005-05-01T17:51:00.000+08:00

Leaning over the side of the boat as Marion poured his ashes into the water. The rest of us threw flowers, and May Lin added the Panama hat, just in case he might feel it in fashion once more.

2005-05-01T17:49:00.000+08:00

"Done. Threw his ashes and hat and flowers into the sea from a cute wooden boat. He be happy." -- Foo May Lin.

2005-05-01T17:47:00.000+08:00

"Done. Threw his ashes and hat and flowers into the sea from a cute wooden boat. He be happy" -- Foo May Lin

2005-05-01T17:44:00.000+08:00

Zahim pretending to be a submarine officer on shore leave. He really looks the part, in my opinion.

2005-05-01T17:42:00.000+08:00

3.10pm, Thursday April 28th 2005. Rain falling on the University Hospital rooftop.

Dearest Krishen... Encore, Bravo, and Thank You

2005-05-01T17:09:00.001+08:00

Krishen Jit s/o Amar Singh passed away on Thursday, April 28th 2005 at approximately 3.00pm. For a truly dramatic effect, Mother Nature aquiesced and the heavens parted. Thunder boomed, lightning frizzle frazzled across the sky, and flash floods broke out all over the city.

I was with Marion and the army of family and friends that Krishen commanded thru saying our goodbyes at the hospital, going back to the house, lying in wake, the funeral, the cremation, and finally this morning the dispersal of his ash in the ocean, somewhere between Port Klang and Pulau Ketam. This was because while Krishen was not a close friend of mine, he has definitely been an influence, along with Marion and the rest of the indomitable Five Arts family. It was an honor to serve him and his kin, even if it be in his passing.

This entry though, is not so much about the Old Man as it is about the last few days. Much can be said about KJ, and much has already been said about him in a manner far more eloquently and respectfully than I ever can. Read Kathy Rowland's obituary and also the condolence page on Kakiseni.Com

I would like to be sent off the way Krishen was. Everything was done with great care, honesty, attention, and above all, love. Kathy said it right when she refers to it as love in "all its emotional complexity". Instead of wearing a boring suit to the proceedings of his death, Krishen showed up in one of his favorite shirts: Black base color, long sleeved, and covered with ridiculous swatches of bright pink, orange, red, and other maniacal colors. When we first saw his open casket that night at the house, there was a definite undertone of mirth and joy for this man's life. Marion shared a small laugh with us about the shirt as we gathered around the coffin, her fingers tenderly stroking his wild eyebrows. His hobbit fingers were neatly clasped together on his chest as we contemplated whether they should be covered by his ridiculous Panama hat that he took to wearing for a few months in 2004. In the end it was decided that it was a phase that he was already over, so... no need lah.

Like most people of his stature, Krishen's death reunited a community, for at least a few brief days. I saw people I hadn't seen in years... brilliant friends whom it was worth sneaking out of the wake for a roti canai. We exchanged pleasantries, cigarettes, cheap beer, and Krishen stories, all the while sweating like dogs in the unforgiving KL humidity. There was a very palpable sadness but at the same time, a very palpable joy. His was a life very well lived. He touched people from all walks of life and from all generations.

The solemn Christian rites of his funeral were tastefully intercut with gamelan music accompanying the procession of Krishen's coffin, P. Ramlee's 1960's Malay bossanova flavored stylings during the final respects, and then Vivaldi ushered all of us out of the church with his movement titled "Spring" (I THINK that is what it's called anyway). There was a heart wrenching slideshow that covered the requisite "thru the years" theme, but at the same time, none of it was contrived. Every photograph of him kept some part of his soul and his eyes mischeviously shined from behind his crazy eyebrows and his glasses. Photos of Krishen at rehearsal, with his actors, a Krishen caricature by Malaysia's Cartoon Laureate, Lat that finally ended with a beautiful photograph of Marion and Krishen smiling together... that absolutely tore me to shreds inside.

Krishen was given two eulogies at his funeral. First by TK Sabapathy, the famous South East Asian art historian based in Singapore and Krishen's old friend from his UC Berkeley days in the 1960's and the second by Mark Teh, the young publicity manager of Five Arts. Mark was chosen to represent the young, for Krishen touched many a young person. The age range at KJ's funeral was quite amazing, really. Both eulogies were equally touching. Sabapathy had the history, Mark had the gratitude of being respected for who he was. Not for his age or his race or whatever else that idiots in this world use to filter out reality, but just for himself.

At the crematorium, we sang Amazing Grace as we placed flowers on his coffin and Yellow Bird for as the doors slowly closed. As we were turning to leave, Leow Puay Tin announced "Ladies and Gentlemen, how about a round of applause for Krishen Jit?!" and the crowd erupted into a tremendous applause. Applause that complimented the thunderous booms of thunder that only the ever theatrical Mother Nature could provide. Later on at Marion's place, samosas, egg tarts, masala tea and other comfort food held sway as the army of love continued to biouvac in the living room all the way out to the kerb.

The best part of his send off though, for me, was definitely earlier this morning when a small group of us went to pick up his ashes so that we could spread them into the ocean. About 6 cars convoyed from Marion's place to Klang and while the atmosphere was sad, it was definitely buoyed by the underlying excitement and holiday atmosphere of any normal Five Arts outing. Zahim somehow came dressed as a submarine officer and a Krishen shirt, Huzir was wearing Marion's "Life is a Cabernet" baseball hat, and Mark had the most ridiculous Sri Lankan cricket team t-shirt on (sponsored by Dilmah Tea).

We all hoped on a cute wooden boat that shared a jetty with the Pulau Ketam ferry, which by the way, has a woman conductor that is most interesting. She was a petite Chinese woman somewhere in her mid-30's dressed in tight jeans and a sheer yellow top with thick yellow faux fur lining. In her left hand she clutched a bright purple handbag and in her right hand she had a child's loudhailer which alternately broadcast a cheesy version of "Happy Birthday" and her own boat conductor schpiel which was....

"PULAU KETAM PULAU KETAM PULAU KETAM FELLY FELLY PULAU KETAM PULAU KETAM FELLY VELLY GOOD VELLY GOOD VELLY GOOD PULAU KETAM PULAU KETAM PULAU KETAM"

at breakneck speed. My rationale, for her wardrobe at least, is that there must be some sort of direct ferry between Pulau Ketam and Sungai Wang Plaza.

The aforementioned cute wooden boat took us out between Pulau Ketam and Port Klang. The 20 or so of us hung on to the side of the boat as Marion leaned over and emptied his ashes into the water. The rest of us threw flower petals. Krishen took to the petals delightfully, or perhaps it was the other way around, but they hopped on the current and made a gentle arc that stretched behind the aforementioned cute wooden boat. May Lin threw in the Panama hat as Krishen's physical form formally returned to the elements, and his spiritual form moved into our hearts and our heads. Altough, that being said, his spiritual form has always lived in our hearts and our heads, just that now he finally made it official. Change of Address forms at the post office and what not. Angie felt it was really appropriate to spread his ashes in the ocean because "he was so gentle, and his influence pervaded everywhere... it's like what his ashes are doing now... with the flowers, mingling with everything, returning to everything."

What I quite liked about it was that not even 4 minutes after the mini-ceremony, a barge coming from the opposite direction sailed straight into the flowers and the ash. It was one of those moments that Life likes to throw at you where the symbolism is very simple and easy to grasp. Life. Goes. On.

Sabapathy said "The collective store of wisdom and culture is shrinking on both sides of the Causeway (Malaysia & Singapore). And we have no way out." It is a very scary thought and one that Krishen would want us to do something about.

The other thing he would have wanted was to take part in the ensuing seafood meal that we went on to eat, post-ash spreading. The beautiful thing about Krishen is that while everyone has some sort of Krishen story, those lucky enough to have dined with him know that some of the best Krishen moments happen over food. His love for the edible transcended his diabetes, his lack of a driver's license, and everything else. He truly enjoyed eating and sharing good food with good company. He would have loved the 20 odd bottles of beer that were left empty at lunch, or the steamed fish with ginger, the oatmeal prawns, the butter prawns, the mantis prawns, the choy sam, the cabbage, the CRABS(!!) and most of all, the company. Gathered around that table were some of the most delightful people I have ever met, and I'm sure Krishen felt the same way.

My Krishen stories involve among many things, giving him hobbit names after seeing his feet for the first time, road tripping with him to Melaka for Nyonya food and ancient tomb sightseeing, and eating chicken rice with Meera and him in Singapore. My favorite story though, I won't share here. I enjoy it too much, and now I'm going to hold it even tighter to myself. If you'd like to know, give me a call, and maybe I'll tell you.

But now after all the ceremonies are done, and all the official steps are taken, comes the hard part. Moving on within ourselves. I cannot fathom a world where there is a Marion but no KJ. I love the two of them too much for me to even begin to understand this, but I suppose that is what every one of us who knew the man is dealing with in some capacity.

See you later, Mr Jit. Old Man. KJ. Krishen. Chris. Jit The Shit. Utih. I love you and Marion immensely. Even though it was in an indirect fashion, you helped shape me and helped me change myself into a better person.

I'll end the same way Mark ended his eulogy... in fact, I'm going to quote him directly.

"One of the things about Five Arts Center program books, if you know Krishen Jit's Director's notes, he talks about many different layers of things, but there is only one constant thing that he mentions over and over again, always the last line, the ending thought. Marion D'Cruz. Each time, every time, he found new ways to thank you. He called you his anchor, Marion, because you have a lot of weight. You carry a lot of weight. Look at all these people around you. We hope you will let us help you carry that weight Marion, and not just keep it all to yourself".

*****************

More:

"Krishen Jit Dies of Stroke" - The Star
"Krishen will remain a hero for generations to come" by Kee Thuan Chye
"Malaysian theatre director Krishen Jit dies" - The Hindu

Last Night A Piggy Saved My Life...

2005-04-14T01:04:00.000+08:00

I'm not going to apologize for not posting for so long. I've tried. I have about 5 drafts that haven't been posted... cobra stories of overnight trips to Jakarta, sudden bouts of rudeness to random strangers, being fired, being promoted, and then being unfired.

They just weren't remotely adventurous in my eyes.

I get into these mini-funks. Smaller funks within one harder, stronger, faster, better funk. Funk Jrs. Things that I normally enjoy just don't do it for me. Food doesn't taste good, driving is a chore, slave to the gym (that is definitely a new one), and the worst part is that music doesn't sound the same. I'm not being melodramatic and poetic here... I'm serious about having those feelings. I can be eating whatever it is my heart truly desires at a certain moment, but still feel only 75% of the true joy a moment like that is supposed to bring.

Then I had a breakthrough. Suddddddddddddenly only.

I woke up late for work that morning and there was something different in the air. For the first time in about a month and a half, I had a craving for something... and it was Bak Kut Teh!

HAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! A Spicy Sparerib Consomme according to these guys.

Bak Kut Teh is the swinerrific slice of heaven that, to my knowledge, was created by the amazing Chinese cooks that wonderfully grace our shores. It is truly comfort food. Side of the road, supper time, good company, preferably somewhat intoxicated, neighbouring table of drunk Indian men, swinerrific spicy sparerib consomme, heaven.
I have driven many kilometers to eat Bak Kut Teh. I will gladly make the trip. It is worth every cent to travel and have to work a little hard to find your meal.

I used to have some very close BKT kakis but Penarik moved to India and I just kinda lost touch with the other one. I have one in Kerstana, but it is still too early in our Pork relationship for me to say that we are a serious item... or at least that is what I thought.

I had been thinking about it the entire mouth-wateringly long day. I stopped by the gym first to apologise to my long term goal of being Sexy Koobz by running 2.9KM in 20 minutes (I'm becoming the Fat Boy who Could!) and then doing 200 situps instead of the usual 100. I was going to eat it without rice. I was going to just sip the soup and pinch on the paiquat. I was going to change, baby, I swear, give me one more chance. It was the flavor I was after, not a big fat bastard meal.

I picked up Kerstana and Mighty Joel Young with no more diesel left in El Stormo and went straight to fill it up. A few wrong turns and twice encircled rotaries later, we were in Kepong Baru and stopped at the 1st stall after the Giant Prawn Mee Neon sign. Closed. U-Turn to the fat chinese guy standing next to a Bak Kut Teh sign 500 meters earlier. Closed. More Kepong driving followed by a wonderful decision to go to Damansara Perdana for some fancy lad BKT in a shophouse there. Closed.

One more right behind it, but part of a larger coffee house. Closed.

PJ Old town... but the only music on the radio was a Boyband Festival and my Giant Burger CD case was nowhere to be found.

Picked up Cobra Commander for a fill-up of his own before going for recce of the Old Town location. Closed. More Old Town driving and found oft closed Heng Kee to be opened. Dropped CC back at his den and then headed straight back to Heng Kee.

I ordered for the three of us and by the time the food came, the conversation had come to a stop. I think on a normal scale of 1 - 10, the BKT was probably a healthy 7... but due to my recent abstinence, this meal ranked a massive 37. I carefully prepared my helping and said a subconscious Thank You to the powers that be and started to stuff my bloody face. The meat was chewy but not rubbery and had a nice balance between fat and lean meat. The soup was flavorful but not pungent. My teeth sliced through the skin of the tau foo with ease but then there was another bouncier, juice filled world hidden in the middle. The fresh red chillies were tangy, the fresh green chillies were dynamite, and the evenly chopped garlic swam happily in my little soy sauce dish.

Two big bowls of rice and 4 soup refills later, Mighty and me were leaning backwards in the chair and groaning in pleasure. Kerstana finished all her rice which was an accomplishment all in its own.

But there was something about the meal that brought me back to life. Normally when I stuff my face, I can hardly walk back to the car but tonight was different. I was skipping down the back lanes of PJ Old Town, talking absolute nonsense to my 2 newest BKT buddies. The air felt clean and my shoes fit just right. I think it was the combination of going to the gym AND eating like a fat bastard that helped cancel out any big meal guilt or other related stupidity. When I got into the car again, my Giant Burger CD case had magically reappeared and as I flipped through it, it became evident that only the Chemical Brothers would fit the moment.

Which brings me to my next point... I am usually very non-committal when it comes to naming favorite music or movies or things like that, but I can firmly say that the Chemical Brothers would be on a desserted island with me (along with unlimited petrol, a 150 KvA generator, a 5:1 home theatre system, and countless other things). I've got their last 4 albums and all of them are brilliant. Their music makes me want to make movies so that I can use their tracks as a score. The progression and the layering of their samples are remarkable, unpredictable, and have the ability to span many musical genres.

Take "Galvanize" feat. Q-Tip for instance. It is their first single from their new album "Push the Button". It touches both dance and hip-hop without alienating fans of either forms. Q-Tips lyrics remind you about rap's power to inspire and motivate and also the argument that rap is actually a more audio friendly version of poetry. Their Arabic sounding sample in the background helps you wiggle your hips, the pounding beat makes you nod your head, and the general feeling of the song helps you galvanize all that into dancing like a bastard. They even throw in what sounds like a normal, steadily building progression... Q-Tip and the Brothers do a call and response of as the layers peel back and just at the peak, when you think everything is going to come crashing back in at breakneck speed, it doesn't. It just goes back to normal... and to me, that anticlimax is such a welcome climax to the normal warm up- build up- orgasm- pillow talk nonsense that most dance music tries to force on you. That formula is for sex.

I dropped off Kerstana and Mighty Joel Young and managed to squeeze in some halla halla time with Pizza The Wong before hitting the proverbial road. I drove and drove that night... I did the whole Middle Ring Road loop from Bandar Sri Damansara, all the way to Ampang and then on to Bukit Jalil and then Shah Alam, the edge of Klang, before dipping down into the NKVE and following it all the way to the Jln Duta exit and finally back to my hood. Wasn't gloomy, wasn't depressed. Was just revelling in BKT and beats. El Stormo was handling like a dream and slicing through the empty lanes.

I'm so close to having my self back. I'm just forcing myself to wait patiently... and not force it. When I counted up my demons, I saw there was one for every day. With the good ones on my shoulders, I sent the other ones away.

Sorry for not writing for so long.

Oooh la la la

2005-03-20T22:51:00.000+08:00

I've never been for any of big concert acts that have been coming through KL over the last few years. I missed out on Incubus, No Doubt, Black Eyed Peas, and all the other cobras who have slithered through these here parts. The last big concert I went for in KL was Shaggy. As a kid I remember going for Paula Abdul, MC Hammer, Vanilla Ice, and oh baby, Color Me Badd.

Then this whole tsunami aid Forces of Nature concert thingy came about and out of a lack of better things to do on a Friday night and annoyed that I tend to miss out on all the best watercooler type conversations the next day, I decided to make my grand appearance, alongside Dayang Nurfaizah, Annuar Zain, Innuendo, Ruth Sahanaya, Yumiko Cheng, Nicholas Tse, Black Eyed Peas, Boys 2 Men, Lauren Hill, Wyclef, and of baby, the Backstreet Boys.

I went with Tronics and a mineral water bottle filled with Gin and Tonic and had a nice buzz by the time we got to the National Sports Complex in Bukit Jalil. We walked around outside, had a burger, looked at chicks (By the way, I was once again wonderfully reminded that KL is full of hot chicks... they just don't work in my industry or happen to go clubbing a lot, which sucks), stared at the red carpet arrival area for a while no one was arriving and then took our seats.

Paula Abdul came on stage and welcomed everyone, which was weird. Not wierd like frat kids, but weird like "What the hell is she doing here?" This was a feeling that was constantly repeated throughout the night as random ass celebrities from far away kept coming on stage to tell us to "remember the victims of the tsunami" and also that they were a force of nature. Jodi Watley (who?), Lance Bass, Joey Fat One, Michelle Yeoh, Jackie Chan (who sang!), Eric Morales and someone introduced as the First Lady of Hip Hop. My cousin DotCom Man muttered something about her being Russel Simmon's wife and somebody else said she was Tata Young. A normal blogger would have done some homework by this stage and provided you with a link to either Tata Young or Russel Simmon's wife but I am way too lazy and the mouse is out of reach right now.

From the start I knew it was going to be an interesting evening. I was hoping for interesting in the sense that I was actually enjoying it instead of making sociological hob-servations of the state of Malaysian society. The first hob-servation I made was that instead of a sea of kids standing in the front of the stage screaming for some love, they put all the VIPS and invited dorks there... on those blue banquet chairs. One thing about Malaysians is that if you give us a chair, we will sit on it (unlike other people who take the chair to dinner, or perhaps the zoo) and it is going to take some serious cajoling to get us off of our asses... which didn't happen until later on in the show.

Lauren Hill opened the show with some wonderfully sung but terribly low energy acoustic numbers before she broke it down with X Factor and Doo Wop (That Thing). She was brilliant but the chairs won. After that Innuendo and the local cobras came on. No disrespect to the local industry, but aiyoh, I couldn't wait for them to be finished. Shiela Majid came on next to prove that Malaysian artists don't have to be crap and she absolutely rocked it. She sang Warna, Sinaran (of course), and Ikhlas Tapi Jauh. Now, Ikhlas Tapi Jauh would make my All Time Favorite Songs Box Set, somewhere in the middle of Disc 2 which is very impressive but they replaced Zainal Abidin and Amir Yussof's respective parts with a wooden Annuar Zain and a permagrinned Dayang which made it terrible. Still, it is very fun to sing along to... even while completely rooted to your seat.

Boys 2 Men came on next (i think... not sure) and they had us on our feet in no time, except for the VIPs who paid so much for their seats that they refused to stand up. B2M were amazinglah. I was singing along to the parts that I knew and pretending at the parts that I didn't... they sang Mama, Water Runs Dry, On Bended Knee, I'll Make Love to You, and End of the Road. The B2M Classics as they call it.

I can't remember the rest of the concert because Clef completely dominated all the storage space that I was saving for everyone else. This man absofuckinglutely rocked it. I felt like I was watching a DVD of one of his concerts. His DJ started it off with some brilliant scratching, throwing together some of the choicest hooks in hip hop over the last 20 years or so before the Preacher's Son walked on stage, struck a pose, and launched into No Woman, No Cry. After that, he said something along the lines of:

26 hours... 26 hours... That's how long I had to fly to get to Malaysia. 26 hours! So, if I see a single one of you sitting down, then Wyclef is going to come and get you. STAND UP! And you better bounce to this next song, I don't care if you are young or old, you better stand up and jump around!

Upon which he started singing House of Pain's Jump Around before neatly going into Stayin' Alive, which was definitely the shiznit when it first came out way back during The Carnival (which in my opinion is one of the top 10 hip hop albums of all time. If you don't have it, you suck). Then in trademark Wyclef style, he politely asked if he could play his geee-tar. The audience thought about it for a second and then politely acquiesced... I mean, it's Wyclef... if he wants to play his guitar on stage then, I mean, I guess it should be ok. Besides, he said that we could sit down for the next 3 minutes.

He didn't play his guitar though, he became his guitar. I always knew he could pluck a 5 stringer here and there but this man borders on virtuoso material. He was doing the behind the back, he was playing with his teeth, he was dipping in and out of Guantanamera and making it sound like he was playing Johnny Be Good. He then got everyone to hold up their handphones and turn on the screens as the stadium lights dimmed down. He started to play Knockin' on Heaven's Door and this was truly beautiful and pretty much the only truly creatively fitting moment to remember the tsunami victims the whole night. The stadium was a sea of little dots of light of all sorts of colors, swaying left to right and singing along with Mr.Jean.

The best part though, was when Clef looked backstage for a moment, got excited and then proceeded to invite Lauren Hill onstage.

My jaw dropped.

The Fugees were having a reunion in Kuala Lumpur and I was there to watch it (Pras doesn't count, ok?). The last time they had played together on the same stage was at Dave Chappelle's party in Ft.Greene in 2004 and before that, absolute yonks (probably at some point while they were promoting The Score). The crowd were going bananas and a whole bunch of other fruit as well. I was a Carmen Miranda headdress.

They sang Fugee-La and Ready or Not before Clef started doing the We're Not Worthy bow to L-Boogie. He promptly reminded the crowd that what was going on was a very emotional moment for him and that they were watching something very rare. The people in the audience who already knew this were on Cloud 9. I was somewhere on Cloud 17. Maybe it was my imagination but I could have sworn there was a hint of regret and apology in Wyclef's voice. I mean, when Pras calls you the cancer that broke up the Fugees, shitttttttttttttttttt, you know done fucked up then.

Lauren Hill waved to the crowd and left the stage. 5 minutes later (which are a blur to me), Clef suddenly ran over to his keyboardist and took over from him and started playing a tune which was really familiar but no one in the audience could place it.

Clef: "Come on Legend, let's do this"

Lauren: "Oh, you want to do this one?"

Clef: "Absolutely"

and then L-Boogie walked on stage again. Before we could catch our breath, she snatched the rest of it out of our collective grasp.

Strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words...

and by that point I had already died.

Proof

Reason #53

2005-03-15T13:18:00.000+08:00

While searching for reference material on swamp monsters rising out of lakes (sometimes I actually do love my job), I came across a very interesting article entitled "The Biology of B-Movie Monsters".

The article debunks all sorts of scientific impossibilites that the movies have ignored... but the movies had their own good reasons. What fun would King Kong would have been if his bones kept breaking under his own weight? What joy could we have gotten out of seeing Mothra destroy Tokyo if they were all factual about it and increased its volume of tracheal tubes and thus allowing for less biomass and reducing the density of everyone's favorite giant moth to that of the average cotton ball? WHAT JOY I ask...

The best thing about the article though is that it tells you how to defeat giant ants armed with a sharp eye and some pebbles. That's the kind of information I really dig.

*************

Which reminds me of something else... I remember getting an e-mail years ago when e-mail was all the rage (and people actually used to keep in touch) about "100 Reasons Why We Are Glad to be Men". It was full of the usual internet humour, but I will always remember Reason #53:

"We know shit about tanks"

Which is pretty much true. Nearly any guy can tell you at least something about some kind of tank. Even my goomba brother.

2005-03-12T17:05:00.000+08:00

From Left: Hindu Koobz, Wong, Kerstana, Cobra Commander, and Upek (with hat). Driving up to Penang to meet Gov'nor and Inspector Saab for Merdeka (Independence) Weekend 2004. Damn... we were completely fucked for 2 days straight.

2005-03-12T17:01:00.000+08:00

Funny that I've had this blog for a few weeks now and no mention of this cat on the left. He goes by many names... Wong and Shit Boy are my favorite. We are currently taking votes on his newest name: 1. Pizza the Kid 2. Cowboy the Hut. This refers to a most unfortunate shirt he wore to the club last night. He looked like he stole a tablecloth from Pizza Hut and a shirt from an old cowboy and then burnt the midnight oil while he painstakingly merged the two. For posterity, he added some mother of pearl buttons. The funniest part is he paid money for it. Oh Pizza the Kid/ Cowboy the Hut... you crack me up.

2005-03-12T16:50:00.000+08:00

My brother is a goomba.

2005-03-12T16:48:00.000+08:00

Red light. Looked down. Exhaled cloud of smoke. Sighed. Put out freshly lit cigarette. Jaywalked.

2005-03-12T16:46:00.000+08:00

That, my friends, is Veet. Hair removal mousse. Aunty sprayed my whole back (and did a wonderful job sculpting the shoulders and a little bit in the front as well) and I was a sexy bastard for a few weeks. Hence, Veet Fan. Get it?

2005-03-12T16:42:00.000+08:00

Ladies & Gentlemen... DISCO JESUS! God is GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD. Oh yeah.

An Activist's Road to Politics

2005-03-12T14:23:00.000+08:00

The following article was taken from The Sun, 12th March 2005. Finally an unbiased, intelligent interview in the mainstream press with an opposition politician... and of all people, Sivarasa Rasiah. This man is an absolute gem of a human being and I'm proud to say that I know him and have his number in my handphone (his wife number oso I got... what you got? nothing. you are a loser).

*ahem*

**********************************************************

An activist's road to politics
Cindy Tham

EVEN BEFORE he entered politics, Sivarasa Rasiah, 48, had been politically engaged as a human rights activist and lawyer.

He represented ISA detainees after Ops Lallang in 1987 and was a founding member and director of Suara Rakyat Malaysia (Suaram) as well as of the National Human Rights Society (Hakam).

The events of 1998 prompted him to enter the political fray and he was elected vice-president of the new Parti Keadilan Rakyat [as it's now known following the merger between Parti Rakyat Malaysia and Parti Keadilan Nasional] at the party's first congress from Dec 17 to 18 last year.

He talks to CINDY THAM about the transition from being merely politically engaged to being a politician as well.

You went into active partisan politics largely as a result of the reformasi movement. How would you assess the move?

It was and remains the right move to make.

We're entering into an important phase now. Of course, how it will eventually play out remains to be seen. I think it's very difficult to expect major things to happen within a matter of months or within one or two years.

With the strengthening of Keadilan as a multiracial political force, we are looking at the emergence of a stronger opposition pushing for democratisation of the country. In time, this stronger opposition will become a real option for voters.

How has the experience been for you personally?

The last six years have been tumultuous, especially the first few years.

Post-September 1998, there was a lot of violence by the police. I've seen the blood on the heads and faces of demonstrators on the streets and also in police stations. Once I was walking down Jalan Tun Perak when I saw the FRU pull a few people into their truck and beat them with plastic chairs.

I was lucky -- I was never physically injured or beaten on the street although I've been arrested and locked up a couple of times. So that's what I mean [by "tumultuous"].

So joining PRM happened after Anwar's arrest?

Yes. It was my response to the emergence of the reformasi movement. To me and a number of other activists, we saw that it was time to get engaged in the mainstream political movement because it was no longer right to stand outside anymore.

Outside meaning ...

Outside the political movement in the form of political parties.

But as a human rights activist and a lawyer, you were also very political in your stand, and then you decided to make that transition or move into partisan politics ...

Being in opposition politics, [laughs] frankly, is not that different from being an activist as such. I mean, it is different in certain ways... the kind of activities you do can be different, the kind of people you interact with are different, yes.

But in a number of ways, there are similarities. And, of course, doing opposition politics in this country is, without question, difficult.

What are the main issues that you've been taking a strong stand on?

In most NGO-based work, one tends to focus on narrower issues.

My earlier work with Suaram in human rights was quite broad but even then, we would engage mostly with civil and political rights, and occasionally, broadening [these] to other issues like land and housing rights, indigenous people's rights, etc.

But we had to focus, you can't do everything. So certain NGOs just stick to one issue, like the Women's Aid Organisation sticks to domestic violence or certain areas of women's rights.

However, when you're engaged politically, I found that you really have to start engaging on broader issues: foreign policies, economics, the management of the country. For me, the rights-based approach became the foundation to deal with a broader range of issues.

Any regrets taking that plunge from being an activist to a politician?

No, no, absolutely not. It wasn't an emotional move. It was a reasoned reaction to a particular political context, and saying it was now time to go into the political movement and contribute because we could see changes, major changes, happening.

And it was important to play a role, and if possible, to drive the change along. For me and other like-minded friends, it was taking our activism from the NGO arena into the political parties.

So advocating for change as an activist is different from advocating as a politician?
I don't think so. I really don't see myself as not being an activist anymore whilst being an opposition politician. I still see myself very much as an activist within the political movement.

Our styles may differ compared to what we did as NGO activists. For example, an NGO activist will take very clear stands on particular issues. Suaram, for example, is very clear about where it stands with human rights and if PAS does something which is against its human rights values, it will critique PAS.

Now, in the political movement, especially when you try to build coalitions or common platforms, you find that is not quite so straightforward. But having said that, Keadilan will not compromise on core human rights issues, and where necessary, we will critique other coalition partners.

Actually, that's one of the points I was hoping you would elaborate on. For example, during last year's general election campaign, you pledged to support freedom of expression in the arts. That means you took a stand against the PAS-led government's view on the public performance of traditional Malay drama dances like makyong in Kelantan. So this is one example of how the different opposition parties have different views on certain issues, where you don't see eye-to-eye. How do you see the opposition parties working together then, when there are conflicting views?

In terms of freedom of expression in the arts, I did not just criticise PAS, I also criticised the Barisan Nasional for its restrictions on freedom of expression in the arts.

For example, freedom of expression in the arts has been a problem for a number of years now, arising from Barisan Nasional policies, both in the Malay language and English language drama worlds.

Now, of course, when PAS took power in Kelantan in 1990, it also started certain problematic policies, like restricting wayang kulit performances in a certain way and later with makyong. I have criticised that publicly and I will continue to do that.

I think we also need to understand that political parties in any country, not just Malaysia, have a variety of ideologies but that does not mean that they don't work in coalitions.

For example, in India and in a number of other countries, political groups that are quite different ideologically have come together in coalitions. They don't agree with everything each other espouses but they recognise that the reality of their national context of politics is that single parties cannot bring about change by themselves.

We do not have in Malaysia [a system] like in the US where politics is dominated by two single large parties exchanging power from time to time.

In most other countries, and this is our reality as well, parties have to work in coalitions. So they sit down together to hammer out a common platform, sometimes they do it before the elections, sometimes they do it after the elections.

And this is what we are trying to do. So whilst Keadilan will maintain its disagreement with PAS on certain core issues, and even with the DAP, we will attempt to work in a coalition because it's a political necessity.

What are the issues that the coalition has agreed on?

There's a wide range of issues. All I have to do is read you the 1999 manifesto... That tells you the huge range of agreement ...

That hasn't changed?

That hasn't changed.

But it is also true to say that after 1999, especially when PAS won Terengganu and continued to rule Kelantan, there were certain policy positions PAS took, like pushing the hudud laws, which have become problematic and caused the DAP to leave.

There is no question there is a clear ideological difference here between Keadilan and PAS. Keadilan, for example, emphasises the constitutional framework of the Federal Constitution. That's our starting point.

As a multiracial party, we do not endorse the idea of a theocracy in any form whatsoever, whether Islamic, Hindu, Buddhist or whatever. We believe in the existing constitutional framework, except that we will democratise it if we are given a mandate to rule.

If you look at all the other issues in the 1999 Manifesto, especially the democracy issue, the key institutional issues concerning the judiciary, the media, the attorney-general's chambers, issues of accountability, transparency, social issues, economic governance issues, there was complete agreement among all the parties, DAP, PAS, the old Keadilan and PRM.

As a concrete example, all of us are clear on the need to repeal the ISA, as also recommended by Suhakam to the government.

I must also say that because of the way that PAS has pushed certain issues in the last five years in Kelantan and Terengganu, this has made coalition-building in the opposition much more difficult.

In the last general election, the voters also sent a clear signal with regard to certain issues. We hope now that PAS leaders will come to terms with this message and recognise the fact that once a common platform is agreed, it must be adhered to.

Anwar [Ibrahim] is also conducting informal discussions with both PAS and DAP to see if a clear common platform can be worked out.

Was it difficult for you to adjust to this need to form coalitions?

As an NGO-based activist, you probably don't have to worry so much about this, but now, as a politician, you find that you need to deal with all these differences a lot more.
Well, some of my own NGO experience is actually not that different because it was rooted largely in Suaram, and of course in other groups as well, like Hakam or the Bar Council.

But Suaram, in particular, as an NGO, has constantly worked to network NGOs and to form NGO-based coalitions and also with political parties on key issues of human rights. We're the ones who stressed that coalitions need not have limits on membership.

Some of the NGOs felt that political parties shouldn't sign a joint statement with them. We disagreed. We said "no". A joint statement is a statement of principle. Anybody who agrees with it should be allowed to sign. So, in that sense, for me, it was not a different experience.

But, of course, you have to recognise that in the NGO world, it's necessary to take what you'd call a purist position. And it has to be done because that's what the NGO world is about. It's not about compromise. It's not about finding a middle ground because in certain issues, you can't.

So this is the adjustment, to some extent, that I find in the work within the political parties. The parties are about competing interests, and often, completely different points of view and sometimes, there has to be some give and take on that in coalition work.

But whatever it is, for the new Keadilan, we have a 17-point political programme in our constitution and we will not compromise on any of these.

The reason you made that move from being an NGO-based activist to a politician means you really believe that you can make a bigger contribution ...

Oh, absolutely!

I decided to join PRM in 1999 as it was a party I had supported earlier. It was really a response to the events of September 1998. We could see enormous societal changes happening in this country and felt it was the right time to contribute through joining the political parties...

Why PRM?

Because it was a party I could identify with in terms of its political, ideological positioning.

PRM started in 1955. Of course, it's gone through its ebbs and highs in its history. Its multiracial face [that is, leadership], left-of-centre ideology with social justice and democracy as core principles reflected the value system I espoused as a social activist. PRM has always tried to champion the rights of the downtrodden, the poorer half of society.

While PRM had no objection in principle to a market economy, it has maintained that the government of the day has a duty to socially manage the market economy as well as ensure a fair or just distribution of the country's wealth and to ensure that education, housing, healthcare, all these fundamental social needs, are looked after.

PRM and its leadership had faced major obstacles, gone to jail for many years, come out, carried on. Not just Dr Syed [Husin Ali], who is among the more prominent ones, but there are many PRM leaders who have sacrificed years of their freedom in jail under the ISA for their political beliefs.

So that's what attracted me to the party and I joined [PRM] before Keadilan was even set up.

I have friends who joined Keadilan after it was formed in April 1999 -- Tian Chua, Irene Fernandez and a number of others. But we also knew that at some point, these two parties would eventually merge.

We had a sense of it, through what was happening on the streets. The reformasi movement was on the streets. We could see we were doing similar things.

You've said you have no regrets going into politics. But have there been some disappointments along the way?

I made the decision to enter a political party in the context of the large social changes that were clearly happening after Anwar's arrest.

I think what we've seen six years on is that those societal changes are still carrying on. I would have had regrets if we had misread the whole situation completely [chuckles] and one year after it had all gone back to the status quo of, say, early 1998, that ultimately nothing had really changed.

With Anwar's release, these changes are going to continue in the same direction. Maybe not with the same [momentum] as in the first few months after September 1998 but you can see it's a genuine change.

But surely there were some disappointments along the way?

Yes, on a personal level, sometimes I had hoped that change for the better would happen at a quicker pace. But we were dealing with a strong oppressive response.

But looking at things objectively, one also realises, democratisation of this country is not going to happen overnight. It will take time. But those who want this change will have to keep the pressure up.

Well, you ran in two general elections...

Frankly, I don't look at [my losses in] the elections as a disappointment although they were very interesting experiences.

Of course, we went into the elections wanting to win but it's important to be objective and realistic about these things.

We came close in 1999, very close. I mean, I was a first-time candidate in Ampang Jaya, up against a two-term MP and I got 45% of the popular vote and reduced his majority by 25,000. The opposition as a whole got 46% of the popular vote. That's quite an achievement.

What are your thoughts on where the opposition movement is heading? What are the challenges the coalition would need to address?

I think the priority for the new [Parti] Keadilan Rakyat would be to focus on strengthening itself first.

We had a very successful well-attended Congress in Ipoh in December last year where a new leadership was elected. One of the immediate priorities for this year is a major membership drive to attract members from all communities in Malaysia.

We have a great political vision to offer to the voters. We believe in the democratisation of Malaysia, promoting social justice for all regardless of race or religion, and bringing about transparent and effective governance.

On another note, you're one of the shareholders of Malaysiakini. You've supported it from day one. But you're also an activist and a politician covered by its reports. As a shareholder, what is your stand or view on the news site trying to be objective and independent and at the same time, having to write analyses of what you do?
Well, my shareholding is actually a very small shareholding.

Would you be able to say how much?

In company law terms, there's a definition of what you call a substantial shareholder, anyone who holds more than 5%, and I'm not a substantial shareholder. My actual share is quite insignificant.

All shareholders sign an agreement with the editors that they will not attempt to or interfere in any manner with editorial policy. I was happy to play a role in the initiation of Malaysiakini in 1999. We all felt it was very important to set up an Internet newspaper.

For me, private ownership of media institutions whether by political parties or by individuals is not a problem so long as there are legal guarantees of press freedom in the country and there is publicly owned media -- like the BBC [British Broadcasting Corporation] which is government-owned but run by an independent board without interference -- giving access to all views.

2005-03-12T14:14:00.000+08:00

My name is Siva... I live on the 2nd floor. I live upstairs from you. Yes I think you've seen me before...

What the...

2005-03-10T18:23:00.000+08:00

I've never, thank God, contributed to road kill statistics as a driver. I'm the type of person who slows down for those cobra birds who like to pretend like they aren't going to move but always get the fuck out of the way at the right moment. I mean, I know they are going to move, but what if one of them isn't a cobra? What if it is just a quadraplegic that the other birds didn't fancy so much?

I once swerved to avoid a frog and another time because there was a big beetle. Lizards, snakes, dogs, cats, humans... all the small minded animals of the world that insist on crossing the road in a haphazard fashion in front of El Stormo have been avoided.

In a mini-adventure today, Hogs and I were on the way back from a meeting when the most wonderful (for us, probably not for it) thing happened. We were travelling behind a small truck carrying 4 open barrels. Out of one of the barrels hopped a fish!

I saw it as it majestically leapt to freedom only to be hit hard by the wind (as the wind often hits when travelling at about 75km/h) and then it landed on the road, right in the path of my car. I saw it flap about for a few seconds before I realised I was about to run over a fucking fish in the middle of lunchtime traffic on Jln Tun Razak... but I didn't, because I'm not about to walk into the office and be like...

"Oh fuck man..."

"What happened?"

"I hit something on the road just now."

"Shit! Man, what did you hit?"

"A fish."

But it was amazing the way this fish just sotomayered itself out of that truck. I think it probably knew it was suicide, but just couldn't stand that it was going to live life in some stupid aquarium, or end up on some dinner table. Maybe it was suicidal.

The only smart thing to do now is to go play the lottery. I have two plans.

1. Buy 3-5-3-8 (the number plate of the truck)
2. Find that small little book where they interpret your dreams and tell you what numbers it translates to. It has things like, "If you dream of a teacup and a rusty hammer on a chair, then you should buy 4-5-6 and special number 9".

I wonder what it says for "Fish jumping out of a truck onto Jln Tun Razak".

A Good Omen

2005-03-03T19:06:00.000+08:00

I saw a falcon clutching a snake.

It was resting in one of the trees in the office carpark.

We contemplated each other. I asked for its number. It said no and then flew off, still clutching the snake.

If this was Mexico and the falcon was an eagle and the tree was a nopal cactus, then I could segway neatly into some Mexican folklore and the origin of the national emblem of that great country.

Either way, if you'd like to know more go here. Apparently there is more to the story than meets the eye, but I'm too cheap to join some Mexican pay-site.