My iPod is possessed. One day, I was shopping for cheap clothes in one of those stores that sell merchandises which have been rejected buy regular stores because they were damaged (pairs of sandals that are both lefts or  t-shirts with only one sleeve). When I got back to my car bringing a mountain of clothes, I opened the back door and just dumped all the stuffs in there. I was trying to close the door when something seemed to be preventing the door from closing down. I thought it was the clothing, so I opened the door    w i d e    then SLAM! It still didn't close. I checked it out. It was my iPod.

Since then, my iPod has been giving me premonition. Every morning, I play my iPod in shuffle mode. The first song that my iPod chooses will describe how my day's gonna be. Yesterday, it played "Just" by Radiohead. Since it's one of the classics in my list, I thought it was gonna be a great day.

After being broke for months, I finally got a paycheck for a commissioned work. The amount was quite nice. It would enough to pay a year rent of a new house and for pocket money while I'm in Korea (read about this here). It would even be enough for a new cellphone. So I called my little sister Tia to accompany me to spend.

When we got to the first mall, we were looking for iPhone. But it wasn't out yet. So I bought some DVDs instead. I told her that our shopping plan wasn't successful since we only got three cheesy horror flicks on DVD. So we decided to to go to another mall to buy a new Sony Ericsson. I got get me a new cellphone!

"You know, it feels lighter to walk when you're loaded," I said. Tia was just giving me that look. "Why aren't you trying to stop me from getting a new cellphone? You know the one I'm using now is still new," I said. She just rolled her eyes. She knew nothing can stop me if I want to spend.

The cellphone vendor was on the 4th floor. We took the elevator but we stopped on the 3rd when I saw some nice black polo shirts. I tried one and it fitted perfectly so I bought two. I used my BCA debit card and the cashier swiped it on the little debit machine. When the print-out came out, we saw that the cashier had mistakenly put too many zeroes. To cut the long story short, it only left an amount in my account only enough to buy rejected underwear. The cashier tried to cancelled the transaction but failed. I called the BCA service center, the operator told me that they would file a report and they would probably be able to out back my money into my account after 14 working days. That means three weeks from now. While my trip to Korea will be in ten days, my house rent is due in three days. Meanwhile, Tia was laughing her guts out.

"I can't stop you, Brother. But the little machine can! Ha ha ha... Or is it God?" Tia said. I left the cashier and the manager fighting with the BCA operator. I said "I need a cigarette."

Then the song echoed in my ears: "you do it to yourself..."

Today, I'm wearing the most expensive polo shirt in the world. Wanna see?






P.S. Thing morning, the first song my iPod played was "Detachable Penis" by Flaming Lips.

Last Saturday, after finding out that I have been robbed, I decided to sleep for a couple of hours since I thought my brain needed some time off. Everybody thought I was being weird because I just laughed about the robbery.

When I woke up at 8, I checked my car. Thank God they didn't steal my toileteries. I took a nice bath and drove off to a nearest police station.

Several people were already there to report that they had also been robbed. A man told me that it usually took three hours to go the process. When I asked how he knew, he told me that he was robbed every month and this month he lost his motorcycle.

I decided to leave my unlocked car at the parking lot at the station because I had to be on the set of "Koper" in one hour. Ironically, I would be playing a corrupt, bureaucratic police officer. The make-up artist put a fake mustache on me using some glue that burned my skin. I only one take for every shot and everybody seemed to be satisfied with my acting. May be it was the mustache, but finally I gave a good performance in my cameo career.

A friend of mine called me and asked me about the car. I told him that I left it at the police station.

"YOU LEFT IT WITH A BROKEN WINDOW AND A BROKEN ALARM SYSTEM? ARE YOU CRAZY?" he screamed on the phone.

He told me that police station was actually not the safest place and he had some experience that confirmed it.

I took a cab and went immediately to the station. Thank God my car was still there.

It was late in the afternoon and since my headlights weren't working, I didn't want to drive home after dark. But my friend who accompanied me told me that it would only took like 15 minutes.

Then I asked for a police statement for insurance purpose from an officer who typed at one character per second. It took one hour for him to type one page.

When I thought it was over, it turned out that I still had to go upstairs to file a report. When I entered a room, there was a boy about 18 years old struggling to walk while holding his pants which were hanging below his waist revealing his dirty underwear. It turned out that he was a thief who had been caught red-handedly and beaten by people while stealing a cell phone on a bus. His face was swollen with severe bruises. He was holding his shirt which was stained with blood from his nose and lips. He could barely open his eyes.

An officer then took my statement, also typing at one character per second. I also had to repeat my story because he always got it wrong. When he mistyped one word, he would delete the whole sentence. In the middle of the typing, he then discussed about why the color of his monitor looked funny with another officer for 15 minutes.

I told the officer that thefts often occured in the area where office was and said it might be better if there was a police patrol there.

He replied, "Even you who were there at your office didn't know that you were being robbed. How do you expect us to know."

I recall I didn't know how to respond to that.

Then an officer brought the thief back in and started interrogating him.

"Who are your accomplices?"

The boy didn't say a word.

The officer used his foot this time. He shoved the boy's face frequently with his sandal.

"You're going to jail," the officer said.

"Jail? Jail is nothing. You're going to hell!" shouted another officer.

Another officer who just woke up from his sleep walked toward the boy and gave him a fist and some kicking. Two high school kids who were there as witnesses laughed.

I felt that my stomach churned. Especially when one officer lighted his lighter and burned the boy's arm who already felt nothing.

I didn't know where to look. My friend who accompanied me looked very upset and his eyes began to look watery.

My officer was still taking my statement. Eventually he was done but when I learned that his jurassic printer also printed at one word per second. I felt so hopeless. It took us almost four hours before we could get out of that place.

Then I decided to drive home without my headlights. Three giant trucks almost hit me. But I just wanted to go home and forget about the whole day.

3.20 a.m.

I just got robbed. The person who guarded my office just told me that of the windows of my car had been smashed. When I checked, all the meters, AC, and CD player were gone. The thief just cut off the wirings. It was raining very hard and nobody heard anything. My car is dead. It won't start. Perfect. I just hope the insurance will cover everything 'cos I'm flat broke.

I was hanging out with my friends until 1 and since I have to be at Koper's shooting at 9 to do a cameo, I thought I just spent the night at the office. I should have gone home.

A few months ago, I almost got robbed, too. I was driving home at midnight at a very quiet street when a man on a motorcycle slowed down in front of my car. I didn't know what he was up to until finally he pretended that I had hit him. He got off the bike and hit the front of my car, shouting at me. One of his eyes was white. He was half-blind. He wasn't that big so I thought I could take him out. When I was about getting of my car, I realized about 10 men were already behind my car. Some of them had swords on their hands. They had planned the whole thing.

I stayed in the car. When I was going to drive off, a taxi came from the opposite direction, blocking my way out. I was thinking very hard how to get out of the shitty situation. The men were trying to open the door. I looked to my side, my laptop was laying helplessly on the next seat. I thought, if those guys took it, I would be out of job. Meanwhile, the half-blind man was still still standing in front of my car, banging on the hood. What should I do, what should I do? I hit the pedal and shoved the half-blind man to side and ran over his bike. One of the armed men hit my car. I floored the gas and took off, my heart was pounding. I was lucky then, I guess I am not as lucky this time.

I haven't slept for two days. My head feels like a smashed watermelon right now. Thank God I brought my bag with me into the office. And my iPod. Hmmm... at least I still got my iPod. And I still got to show up for the shoot. Damn.

I say the wrong thing to everybody all the time. When it happens, you feel like you're trying to claw your way out of the embarrassing situation. But the harder you try, the deeper shit you fall into.

A few weeks ago, I was meeting an old friend from college. He brought along four people. Two women and two men. We were recollecting memories about our old days when the others were listening to our stories. Everything was fine until I said:

"Hey, why don't you bring along your wife sometimes. I want to meet her."

My friend looked confused and said, "This is my wife right here."
The woman who was sitting next to him looked uncomfortable.

Damage control. I said, "Oh I'm sorry. You haven't introduced us."

He said, "I did. On our wedding there."

I shot my own credibilty and likeability on the head, very bloodily, with a shotgun.

Last week in a party, I met another old friend of mine. We used to joke that we were too ugly to find a good-looking spouse. In the party, I also met a pretty young woman that I got to know recently. So the three of us were joking around.

Finally, the woman said, "I have to go home now. It's getting too late for me."

Then my friend said, "I have to go home, too."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well I have to drive wife home," he said while laughing and putting his hand around the pretty woman's shoulder.

I thought he was joking. I said to the woman, "Wouldn't it be a nightmare to marry this ugly man?"

They were laughing at first. I laughed, too. Then he was trying to see whether I was being serious. Finally he said, "Dude, you know that we are married, right?"

I was still laughing because I thought he was kidding. Then his face turned serious. Then I knew I have said the wrong thing.

Last night, it happened again.

I was at a party when I met a female friend. All I knew was that she was pregnant with her first baby and she gained a few pounds from it. We and some other friends were chatting when I said, "I bet your baby is a girl."

"Yes." she said.

"Do you know how I know? Because you look prettier. When pregnant women looked prettier, the baby is a girl," I said. I was trying to give a compliment. I thought she was probably worried about getting heavier from being pregnant. I was trying to be a good friend.

"Thank you. But my baby was already born and I'm trying to lose this pound."

I was so embarrassed. I wanted to slap myself.

"Don't worry, Honey. You're the twentieth person to say so," she said.

I excused myself and heading to the exit. Several people were trying to talk to me. I said, "Don't ask me to open my mouth."

I got into my car and drove home very fast. On the highway, I rolled down my window and shouted, "I AM A JACKAAAASSSS...!!!"

I got home, entered the room where all my DVD collection is. I spoke to them, "Damn you all. I spend too much time with you I forget how to interact with living things."

I kicked the shelves and hundreds of DVDs fell on me. Nobody was there to help me. May be I deserve it. I will not go out for a long time.

I grew up wanting to be an actor. Well, up to my first day of elementary school. My teacher was asking every kid in my class what they wanted to be when they were adult. Everybody said that they would be a doctor or an engineer. When my turn came, I told my teacher that I wanted to be an actor. The whole class laughed. I didn't know why they were laughing, I thought that they were only being stupid. My older brother who was waiting for me outside the class saw the whole thing. When I came out of the class, he was laughing at me, too.

"You can't be an actor, you idiot," he said.
"Why?" I asked.
"'Cause all actors are good-looking and you're not."

I ran home and looked for my mother. She was busy cooking when I did my best crying.

"Budi said I couldn't be an actor because I'm not good looking," I was sobbing my eyes out.

I thought she would be mad at my brother and get my father's leather belt and whip his ass. I knew my mom would support me. That's what mothers do, right? To keep their children's spirit up. I knew she would say I was the cutest kid in the world. But instead, she took a long breath and said:

"Well... you're not that ugly either." She wasn't joking.

That was when my dream shattered. I stopped crying and went to my room. I was then lying on my bed and staring at the spider web at one corner of the ceiling. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. My mother's answer did not kill me and it made me stronger. But it left a huge hole on my self-esteem system. Had I read all Barbra Streisand's trivia, I would have had an emotional connection with her. She was, too, told that she was ugly. The difference is, while she got over the trauma and co-starred with all Hollywood hunks, I still can't speak in public without sweating so hard. On the contrary to what my friends may think, I am a very shy boy.

However, I guess, my mom's remark made me divert my dream to becoming a filmmaker instead of an actor. I think I'm doing ok. But I always envy actors because they can be so relaxed in front of the camera. I was doing a cameo once in a film that I wrote and got one line. They had to retake perhaps 10 times because my face was sweating like it rained.

Last week, my friend Ochay was directing a TV series and he asked me to appear. I would have a bigger part than just a cameo appearance. At first, I hesitated but I decided to face my greatest fear: to act.

I memorized all the lines and rehearsed myself everyday for my three scenes. An hour before the take, I did everything I could to warm up from shouting to doing some push-ups. I thought I could drain up all my sweat so there would be none when they shot me.

When the AD called me, I still thought I was gonna be okay. But when Ochay called "ACTION!". The world turned pitch black and I forgot all my lines. I was sweating like a hog being chased by people with spears. We did several retake and when I finally got my lines, my eyes were wet and my body went limp. Ochay told me that my performance was good enough.

However, when I saw the rushes, it was obvious that I sucked. Now I know that my mom was doing me a favor by subtly told me that I shouldn't be an actor. Once again, my mother was right.

I’m superstitious. It runs in my family. My father keeps a keris in his cupboard and I saw him talking to it in many occasions. My mom would not go out of the house until she whispered some words and click her heels three times. I’m sure it wasn’t “there’s no place like home”. 'cause she hates home. And she also made me wearing a huge anti bad spell around my neck. When I reached junior high, I opened it and found a tinily folded paper containing some magic spell in Bataknese and her scribble saying,”Why did you open it, you fool?!”.

When I moved to Lippo Karawaci, my landlord gave me two identical keys, only one of them opens my front door. So everytime I opened the door, I would ask a question like “Will I get laid tonight and not regret it two minutes after orgasm?”. If I used the right key, then the answer was ‘yes’. (Btw, I never get a 'yes' answer for that particular question).

However, after I picked up a copy of The Book of Answers from Aksara Bookstore, I can share my superstitiousness with my friends.


The book works very simple. Hold the book, ask any question, and open it. The book will give you an answer.

My friend Yose, treasurer at a film production company, quitted driving his car because now the gasoline is so expensive. He holded the book and asked: “Will situations get better next year in Indonesia?”

The book answered: “Absolutely not.”

He asked again: “Will Indonesia ever have a good president?”. The answer was “never”.

When Hera asked the book: “Will I ever lose weight?”, the answer was: “You must act now.”

My friend Ferdy asked: “Am I a whore?”. The book answered: “Make a list of why not”. I had to protect the book when Ferdy tried to burn it.

Chorie’s questions were much more ‘intelligent’.
Question: “Was Lady Di really killed?”
Answer: “It will remain unpredictable.”
Question: “Will Hughes ever get back together with Alvin?”
Answer: “Don’t bet on it”.

My friends didn't take the book seriously until two nights ago.

We were at a café in South Jakarta, very late at night playing with the book when one of us, Elan, got a phone call from his ex. He went to the backyard.

A friend of mine asked the book: “Will Elan's ex ask him to get back together again?”
The book gave the answer: “The answer is in your backyard.”

We were amazed. We looked at Elan who was still talking on the phone in the dark backyard.

When one of us asked: "Will Elan say 'yes'?"
The book simply answered: "Wait".
Right after we read the answer, Elan came back in and told us that his ex wanted him back but he said 'no'.

We were speechless and freaked out. We put down the book.

Elan who didn't know what had been going on took the book and asked:"I felt strange back there in the backyard. Is there a ghost out there in the back yard?"
The book answered: "Watch and see what happens."

All of us flew out of the cafe.

I was driving home and the book was on the seat next to me. I looked at it. I knew if I didn't throw it away, I would be forever dependent of the book to make any decisions because now I truly believed of its power.

When I stopped at a very quiet red light, I asked the book:"Should I trust you and keep consulting you?"
The book answered:"Ask your mother".
Wow, it knew that my mom would also believe in this kind of thing. So I keep it.

Last night, I took my good friend Angie home after we visited a friend. After she called Buddy, her husband, she asked me to drive her to her parents in-law’s house on the F street because Buddy was there.

It was a few minutes after midnight. We arrived there and Buddy showed up. We chatted some then decided to go to eat near AA mosque in South Jakarta. After I missed the turn to the lively spot where people always hang out late, I decided to make a u-turn somewhere. I made a mistake by making the u-turn at the circle near RP shopping mall.

“Are we allowed to make a u-turn here?” asked Angie.

“I don’t know,” I said.

We saw a policeman giving us sign to stop. I didn’t know exactly why I decided to keep going. The policeman got on his big motorbike.

“Fuck. He’s chasing us.” Buddy said.

“We’re going to jail,” Angie covered her eyes with he hand.

I floored the gas pedal. Two slow cars were blocking my escapade. After I almost hit one of the car, it gave us a way.


“You’re out of your fucking mind, man.” Buddy sounded pissed.

I had never been a law-breaker. (I don't do things that are universally illegal like mooning to the President. I occasionally do things that are illegal here but legal in, say, the Netherlands).

It was too late to stop, I thought. The road was empty and I was sure I could lose the policeman. For a moment, we didn’t see him. Then he appeared behind us.

“Fuck!” I said and made a left turn to a residential area in a hope that I could hide in one of the small roads.

But all the small streets were blocked by the portals. Buddy decided to be my navigator.

“Turn right,” he said. I turned right but the road was also blocked.

After a few turns, we lose the policeman. We got on the main street again when Buddy told me to make another u-turn. I asked why.

“He’ll think that we go straight,” he said.

We drove pass the policeman. When he thought we had him fooled, he also made a u-turn. The chase was back on. My car was going zig-zag like mad.

“Ok. We’re gonna die,” Angie said.

Everytime I tried to make a turn to a small road, it was blocked.

“Let’s go to my house,” Buddy said.

“Where the fuck is your house?” I said.

“You never came to my place?” Buddy asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!”

“WE’RE GOING TO JAAAAIL..!” Angie screamed.

When I saw a small road unblocked, I made a turn. But halfway, we found ourselves trapped. The road was also blocked. The policeman appeared behind us.

“That’s it, man. Game over.” Buddy said.

We sat still.

I rolled down my window, expecting the cop to scream at us. But he didn’t scream. He was being very nice.

“You shouldn’t try to get away like that,” he said.

I said sorry and he asked me to get out of the car to his motorbike.

“So how it’s gonna be? If I give you ticket, you’ll have to go to court and go through many process. It’ll probably cost you 250,000 Rupiah,” he said.

I gave it a shot and said, “Can I just give you the money?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said.

“But I only have two hundreds,” I bargained.

He looked at me and sighed. “Ok,” he said.

I gave him the money and he gave me back my license.

When I got back in the car, Angie and Buddy had been waiting impatiently. I told them that I paid the policeman off.

“You can’t drive, man. I’ll drive,” Buddy said.

I let Buddy take the steering wheel.

We were supposed to turn left to go back to his mother’s house but he turned right.

“We are you going?” I asked him.

“Yeah, where are you going?” Angie asked her husband.

We were heading back to the circle where it’s forbidden to make a u-turn.

“I’m gonna show you how to lose a policeman,” Buddy said.

“FUCK!” I said when Buddy stepped on the gas and broke the law.

Moments later, another policeman on a big bike was chasing us.

“BUDDY, STOP THE CAR NOW!” Angie said.

“Are you kidding? This is a lot more fun than Playstation!” Buddy kept going.

He was right. He drove better than me. Buddy made several turns to small roads. He was laughing because the policeman was barely on our trail.

For a dramatic effect, I turned on my iPod and looked under the playlist "Classics" and selected Nine Inch Nails' The Perfect Drug.

“We lost him!” Buddy said. But then we saw the policeman behind us.

“We’re going to jail for sure this time,” I said.

Buddy made more turns.

“Don’t worry. My uncle’s house is nearby,” Buddy said. He was laughing again because we almost reached the house.

“Here we are…” Buddy said. The policeman was nowhere in sight.

But nobody opened the gate for us. Buddy horned several times. Nobody showed up... Except the policeman.

“Fucking stupid man,” I said.

“Game over,” Angie said.

Luckily, Buddy was able to pay off the policeman.

Angie was mad and she took over the steering wheel.

“You two are stupid. I’ll drive.” She said.

We let her drive, hoping that she would try to lose another policeman. But she didn’t. We were disappointed. She’s no team player.








(Part of the event has been dramatized. Angie and Buddy are not real names)

I have been enjoying living in my new house in Lippo Karawaci. It's 45-minutes driving from Jakarta at midnight, or 2,5 hours in the morning. I don't own it, though, I just rent it. On the contrary to the popular belief that people with my profession have a lot of money, I had to ask for an advance from my boss just to pay a one-year rent. Two small bedrooms, two tiny toilets and nowhere to put my DVD collections. So I put them in the kitchen. I also put my giant sofa which I robbed from my producer's office and a 14-inch TV set there. I really doesn't help my lose-15-kilos plan because now I don't have to move much to cook instant noodle, to insert DVDs to my DVD player, and to operate the washing machine because everything is within reach. I gained another 3 K in a month.

Right, I gained weight but I also gained freedom. When I was still living in a kos-house or living in a house with a bunch of friends, I had to wear headphones while watching porn. Now I can let the "oooh... aaaahh"s that come out of the TV speakers echo throughout the room. The house is sound-proof. I've checked. Now I can also make some tea in my underwear. Making tea in your underwear must symbolize total freedom somewhere. I'm sure of it. May be I'll google it later.

Living alone doesn't mean you don't get excitement that can pump up your adrenaline. On the seventh day of my living alone, my house turned into a battle field. There was a giant, 20cm-long gecko in the living room. I was brooming the room when it suddenly appeared from behind the desk lamp. After staring each other for about 30 seconds, it started making sound. It looked so scary.


It seemed to chase me. When I went to the right, it went to the right. When I went to the left, it went to the left. When I ran to the kitchen, it followed me. I threw it with a box. I missed it. I threw it with my underwear, it made that scary sound again. So I started throwing stuffs at it but it was too agile for me to hit. The room was a mess. Finally, I took a half-full can of Baygon and sprayed it until it empty to the gecko. Baygon got a strong spraying power so I didn't have to get too near to the monster. I thought it felt dizzy until it passed out. I covered it my dirty underwear for a total intoxicating effect and sweep it out of the house with my broom.

The other day when Hera and Tatut were visiting, another giant gecko terrorized me. Tatut and I joined forces to fight it. We won. Again, with the help of Baygon.

There hasn't been any gecko disturbance lately and I've been living in peace. Until two days ago when my mom called and told me that she was gonna come over during lebaran with my dad. Then my sister called, saying that she was gonna come with my parents along with her kids.

Now I'm trying to figure out where they can all sleep.They must expect to see their suppossedly successful member of the family living in luxury. I don't even have beds in my house. I could buy some beds, but that'll mean I'm gonna ask for another advance from my boss. Or may be I should tell them about the geckos. May be that will scare them and decide not to come at all.

My best friend and I love to bitch about other people. We are actually very positive people but sometimes we just need to feel good about ourselves by looking at other people's imperfections. We have honed our skill well to find flaws in people, even if we have to use all the energy we have to do it. We think it's a fun way to burn calories.

Last night we were bitching about yucky couples. We call them yucky couples because the way they express their affection to each other give us the heebie-jeebies. They call each other with words you won't find in any dictionaries like "bubu", "biyu", "miumiu", "switswit!", "psst psst!", "rrrrrrrrr". We repeated their terms of endearment over and over again until we got itch all over.

We know some seemingly perfect men or women who are dating or married to someone we just can't stand. I know that many people are still figuring out why Julia Roberts was once dating Lyle Lovett (I like Lyle, by the way. You should see him in The New Guy). How do you accept your spouse's imperfections? As a certified cynic (and shallow prick) I refuse the "love overcomes everything" explanation. I believed I used to love all my ex-es (except one that I dated in junior high simply for doing my homeworks). The reason I never have a long-term relationship is because I can't stand little things they do. I got turned-off when they gave me flowers. I lost my feeling toward them when they couldn't name 10 movies starring Eva Arnaz. I broke up with some of them after they constantly sent sms-es like: "dah makan apa belum?" while I knew that they put up with my depressing music, my loud snoring that have 10 different tones and sounds, my small penis, or my tendency to dominate the microphone everytime we went to karaoke. One of my ex-es said that I was like Giant from Doraemon: fat, agressive, egocentric, and would kick someone if they didn't want to hear him sing.

Now, my small pleasure of making fun out of yucky couples has turned into envy. They seem happy while all I got is my DVD player. I've had a four-year relationship with it. Sure it never fails to amuse me. It can turn me on whenever I need it to (just by inserting porn). It has flaws, though. Sometimes it just won't play any DVD. But after I clean its lens with a disc cleaner, it will always work again, and our love will grow more.

If only I can accept other people's flaw like I can accept my DVD player's.


(Note: To those who read my previous, more vulgar post, Perfect Couples Make Yucky Couple, I apologize. I was drunk when I hit the "publish" button. Please disregard it.)

7.00 a.m.

The alarm from my cell phone rang. I wanted to hit snooze but there was already people working in Kalyana office, in front of the computer, next to the long chair that I slept on. They will start shooting Monday so there were always people there doing the preparation.

I didn’t go home last night. I didn’t have the energy to drive all the way to Lippo Karawaci. The other day I forced myself to drive home at 3 a.m. I feel asleep and dreamed and I ended up driving on the road separator. Thank God I didn’t hit any palm tree.

The back of my neck, all the way to my spine was still very sore. It has been worse and worse. I don’t know what I suffer from. I was thinking about that horror movie from Thailand. The guy has the same problem with me and eventually finds out that a female ghost is sitting on his neck. I wouldn’t mind. As long as it is not cancer.

The office phone rang. A security who is also the receptionist during weekend said that it was for me. Some woman from Surabaya was over-excited to hear my voice. She said she had been trying to work in film for years. She tried to meet two well-known filmmakers when they were in Surabay last year but didn’t succeed. She said she saw me on one of those infotainment program, blabbering about how easy I got into the business. Now she wanted me to help her.

“What do you want to do?” I said.

“Anything. I can do anything if I’m given the opportunity. Can I direct your next movie?” she said.

“Have you ever studied filmmaking?”

She said no.

“Have you ever made any movie? Short? Anything with audio visual?”

She still said no.

“But that’s how you did it, didn’t you? You didn’t know anything about film when you first met Nia Dinata and yet she asked you to direct a movie.” She said.

There you go. My over dramatization to media about how I got into the business has taken another victim. I thought it would be cool. Now I think it’s cruel. I slowly told her what she could try to work in film business. I gave her some internet addresses where she could learn about filmmaking. I felt so stupid and irresponsible.

Later, after I finished writing my reviews, I went to Citos in a hope to get two or three more pages of my new script done. It’s a coming-of-age story which is gonna be the second movie I direct. After one tall cup of chamomile iced tea, I hadn’t written a single line. I drove without no destination, listening to a compilation of sad songs to help me get into the mood of my next project. So far I’ve only become depressed more but no script.

I ended up heading to Ratu Plaza to buy some pirated DVDs, to add more of a stack of probably a thousand DVDs that I haven’t watched. Pirated DVDs are cheap. They lost their value. When I was in college and could only buy used tapes, I listened to them over and over again during the day and slept with them during the night. Money can buy happiness. But it always makes you miss out on little pleasures.

When I arrived at Ratu Plaza, all the pirated DVD vendors were closed. There was a raid only fifteen minutes before I arrived. Damn. And the food court on the 4th floor has also closed for good. They relocated the DVD vendors on the 3rd. Nobody came to eat there anymore.

I ended up buying an Xbox CD on fitness. The cover says it will customize exercises according to your statictics to help you lose weight. Hurrah! I need that. Otherwise in five years, I won’t be able to see my dick again.

After Ratu Plaza, I headed to Halim in East Jakarta to attend a birthday party of one of my lesbian friends, Ade (to whom I'll be a sperm donor). I had never seen so many lesbians in one occasion. They were fun. They even had two breasts on their ashtray.



Ade’s partner, Bonnie, gave her a diving mask and a diving knife as birthday presents. Ade held the knife and wore the mask throughout the party. They are one of my favorite couples. No jealousy, no insecurities. They are so much into each other. They have been together for years. My longest relationship is ONE month and three days. I never survived the first fight. People say make-up sex is the best. I wouldn’t know. I’ve been single for too long I’ve become a virgin again.

I left early to get some stuffs at Hera’s and Tatut’s. They are moving to Lippo Karawaci, too. They’re gonna be my neighbors. While heading to their place in Benhil, I took a wrong direction in the freeway. I drove all the way to Jatiwarna, or Padiwarna, I don’t remember. I was lost again, as usual. But finally I found my way back.


Benton Junction

After getting the stuffs from Tatut, I drove home, the first time in a week. I stopped at Benton
Junction. The food is so-so but the atmosphere’s very nice. It’s 3 a.m. I finally wrote three pages for my script. And I’m writing this now. The battery on my Mac will be dead soon in three seconds, two seconds, one second...

Why blogging?

At first, I was oppossed to the idea of writing in a blog. But then I found out that:

- people's heads are full of thoughts (problems, ideas) that are often so jumbled and scattered like CDs (or dirty underpants) in my room, our brains simply can not process them. If this condition persists, our bodies will develop spots other people will start calling you Pongo or Perdita. Writing your thoughts out is a great practice to help your brain help you.

- not everybody can write in a newspaper or a magazine, even though you write much better than people who do write for newspapers or magazines, especially in Indonesia where most publications appreciate pseudo-intellectuals more than those who are honest, like writing about your obsession to swim in a pool of melting marshmellow.

- wise-asses make funny people, either genuinely funny or offensively-stupid-they're-so-funny funny.

- and, (my favorite) the world needs more of poet wannabes whose blog poems have a great power to crack you up.

- it's better for people to think that you have nothing better to do. Busy people are so boring.

So, I know it's a bit too late, but let's blog!

5 a.m.

Can't sleep. Thank God for my endless supply of cigarettes. I killed the air conditioner in my hotel room. The damn thing doesn't have any button or switch on it. The only thing to do it was to unplug the power cord. When I tried to plug it back on it didn't work. I think I broke it. Oh well, I also burnt the bed sheet last night with my cigarette when I fell asleep while imagining what my face had I had a longer nose, a smaller lips, a bigger hip. Can't do anything right in this small hotel room. It doesn't even have a toilet. The sink is very useful when you can't hold the urge to pee. Damn. The sun is rising. Gotta pack. And leave NYC.