Little things or a personal interpretation of daily semiotics based on impulsive fleets of the heart

Growing up makes you forget.

I was walking solo down through TIM at sundown. ‘I love this place at this hour,’ I thought to myself.
The furious heat was calmed by the cool breeze. ‘Why is it always breezy here? This is so nice,’ I thought to myself.
I passed by food stands, catching whiffs of delicious conversation laced with the aroma of pempek, soto sulung and sate kambing.  ‘Yummy, this smells so good,’ I thought to myself.

A pot-bellied, middle-aged man who wore shorts, a striped khaki shirt, a navy blue beret and orange Crocs walked by me, spotted my smile and tipped his hat off to me. ‘My, what a nice man’, I thought to myself.

Jemise, phone home

It is my turn to post some deep, meaningful philosophies, but my brain is doped up on MSG from the cheap crisps I got at the warung and I have the flu. Excuses, excuses.

But I didn’t leave you, my pretties, hanging high and dry. I made something in ode to our fellow Om’bak bloggette who has recently left Jakarta to go back to Australia.

Jemise, we miss you heaps. xox

I didn't mean to compare you to E.T., Jemise, you're cuter and your forehead's not as big. xx

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. Bowie knows his shit.

Torn stockings, my toes are peeking.
Worn mockings, my fists are clenching.
Used to see in monochrome,
Technicolor’s the epitome.
They told me I should be more sensitive.
But my brain-waves are far too talkative.
They told me to stop my running.
But my feet are way too cunning.
They said I have to be a girl.
But I want so much to conquer the world.
They want me to watch my mouth.
But I’m not from way down south.

Take me home country roads

There's a long drive ahead, hope you brought your iPod.

Ah 2009.

Last year has flown by so fast, with so many changes that wash over me day by day, that I don’t really consider this a new year. January 1st was just a day where I had an excuse to drink more than the usual dose, dress up in a frilly smock and radiate with (sometimes pseudo) positivity. But! The one thing that always makes January 1st an extremely wonderful day to anticipate is the friends and family. Everyone says hi to everyone and everyone smiles on that day and you forget all the red bills on your fridge door. Good feeling, the euphoria over traditions, it makes me feel simple and orange.

An acute allergy to intimacy

"One's company, two's a crowd and three's a party." - Andy Warhol

This below entry was written 2 weeks ago under the influence of blood-surging anxiety. I am in a calmer state at the moment and I re-read my writing and realized what a neurotic psycho-bitch I am (like I didn’t know pssshft). But for your (and my) amusement, I will still post my 2-week-old ramblings as a reminder of my neurotic psycho-bitch tendencies. Here goes. You might want to take a bathroom break first; this’ll be a while.

The ABC’s of JKT (part three)

"Momma said no pushing, asswipe."

Read Part One (A-F).
Read Part Two (G-M).

No need to push, dude.
I have heard this sentence being uttered (in Indonesian, English, French and everything in between, and sometimes intertwined with profanities) everywhere a queue of people is in sight. At the ATM, at the bus stop, getting off airplanes, getting on airplanes, at the doctor’s, at music concerts, at the movies, at the Debenhams midnight sale, basically anywhere and everywhere people are supposed to form a line.

Crumpin’ you can believe in!

In ode to the Obamarama going on, I give you the dance floor, where there’s no such thing as political parties. Just parties.

The ABC’s of JKT (part two)

Read Part One (A-F).
Read Part Three (N-P).

The G30S PKI Movie

G30S PKI
As a little 4-year-old kid, watching the Gerakan 30 September massacre movie was traumatizing. Every 30th of September, TVRI would show that movie as a reminder of our ‘fallen heroes’ and propagate awareness of the enemy that is communism. In 1998, after the dethronement of former president Soeharto, they stopped showing the movie because it became under suspicion of being a media for spreading propaganda concocted by the former president himself and his cronies.

The ABC’s of JKT (part one)

Bundaran HI

I have been living in Jakarta for exactly 10 years this year, so as my ode to this endearingly dodgy city, I have written a guide (in alphabetical order, of course) of what Jakarta means to me. As the whole article is super-long and will probably wear out your enthusiasm after the letter K, I will divide it into 4 parts. This is part one: A to F.

Enjoy.

Stairway to the little death

"lost stairway" by Raphael Goetter

There was a lull.
She peeled her clothes off and her lips grew crooked.
Step one. Transcending.
He was vivid in her mind. Every curve, every crevice.
The hollow of his hip, a path carved in bone.
The scent of his musk.
She closed her eyes. She was climbing.