there he goes ...

there he is again.

still working long, long hours.

of late there has been a lot of activities, a number of meetings and a whole bunch of people in the office, but at the end of the day it’s always him alone in front of the pc, in the near dark, working hard.

occasionally he’d have people report to him.

he must be the big boss, surely. and a fairly young one at that, too.

i should just nip over and see what kind of company it is. the curiosity is killing me (but where’s the fun in knowing?)

he’s most probably married, anyway.

most of them are, these days.

he’s never really acknowledged me (his desk faces away from me at the far end of the room, and the only time he can see me is if he comes over to the near window to get better reception on his handphone. i on the other hand can see him each time i come back into my room or look out the window).

but it’s certainly heart-warming to know that there are married men who don’t flirt even when there is no possibility of being found out.

then again, maybe i am just not his type.

damn.

lost somewhere in time

been in a bit of a funk lately.

but clear blue sky mornings always make me feel better.

and driving to work on a clear blue sky morning, with the windows down and the cult’s sonic temple blaring out at full blast (this song in particular), through mist covered little baliem, with hardly any traffic and the promise of a steaming mug of coffee, works wonders.

“don’t you know paradise takes time”, indeed.

mememememememe

right. tagged by miss j.

there’s supposed to be a porky-pie in each set of four, or something like that. but, just for the heck of it, in one or more sets, it's all true.

just because.

4 jobs i have had in my life:
house painter
tour organizer
data entry clerk
paralegal

4 movies i would watch over and over again: (note – these are not necessarily my favourite movies. my favourite movies, the ones i truly love, tend to make me depressed. so i can’t watch them over and over again. go figure)
gosford park
sepet
v for vendetta
greencard

4 places i have lived:
albert park, melbourne
croydon, south london
kitasenju, tokyo
kota kinabalu, sabah

4 tv shows i like to watch:
casa impian
project runway
c.s.i. (vegas)
any specials on egypt on discovery/natgeo

4 places i have visited:
masjidil haram, makkah
pokhara, nepal
tutankhamun’s tomb, valley of the kings
loch ness, scotland

4 websites i visit daily:
miss j
google.com. searching for kitchen inspirations, which leads to gazillion others

4 places i would like to be right now:
lili’s, danau maninjau
perhentian, terengganu
in bed
having dessert with miss j chatting over the silliest of things

4 of my favourite food:
dark chocolate (min, 50% cocoa)
pizza with sun dried tomatoes
creamy tomatoey salmon pasta or salmon anything
laksa johor

4 bloggers i would like to respond:
mal
chocolalat (just to get him to update his blog!)
...
...
(err, i don't think anyone else knows about this blog, so if you are reading it (god save you), consider yourself tagged)

pg-13 & other nonsense

something miss j recently said, and my response to it, triggered this rather unsettling realisation:

almost all of my favourite "love stories" – or rather, my favourite modern movie romances, have absolutely no sex in them whatsoever.

heck, in some of them, they don't even kiss.

they are (in no particular order and i keep thinking am missing a few):

~ andie macdowell and gerard depardieu
greencard

~scarlett johansen and bill murray
lost in translation

~franka potente and whatzisname
the princess and the warrior

~tim robbins and alfre woodard (bit parts, but memorable ones)
miss firecracker

~natalie portman and tim hutton
beautiful girls (an otherwise forgettable film but for portman and hutton. click here and here for a couple of scenes)

(and of course v and evey in v for vendetta..)

........................

saw this at kinokuniya last night and almost fainted.

it's going for RM 337.

damn damn damn.

........................

against my better judgement (because by the time i left home i didnt feel up to it anymore) i headed for ikea/ikano today by myself to check out the kitchens/harvey norman for appliances.

it is however no fun having a puny budget and yet expensive taste; it's worse when you have to fork out everything yourself and not have someone to split the costs with even.

everything just seemed that much more expensive.

in my depressed state i went to borders, and bought this (at 20% discount):

so now i am no nearer to the kitchen of my dreams, am still broke, but marginally happier.

yay.

remember remember the 5th of november ..

hugo weaving is not, by normal reckoning, a particularly good looking bloke.

but what he is, is a good actor (my eyes water every time i see that bit in priscilla queen of the desert when he opens up to his son, and his son accepts him for who he was).

ok, so he may have overdid it a wee bit in the matrix and lotr, and i worried about his voice being too distinctive to be anything but agent smith and elrond in my head, when first i contemplated watching v for vendetta.

maybe it was a combination of things, finally watching the movie in the cozy apartment in hong kong, perched on my window seat (also my bed for three nights) with just a half inch glass wall between me and 22 floors down, dimmed lighting and a great sound system.

but rather surprisingly, his voice as v gave such tenderness to the otherwise faceless, emotionless role (despite/because of? the smiling guy fawkes mask), that i - voice-whore that i am - found myself strangely, inexplicably drawn to the character. found him *sexy* even.

ok so he goes around killing people left right and centre and blows up the old bailey and the houses of parliament.

but when he goes:

behind this mask is more than flesh
behind this mask is an idea …
and ideas are bulletproof …

sigh…

.. am such a sucker for poetry-spouting, knife-wielding, vengeful, disillusioned madmen with ideals and a gentle heart. the cooking skills were a bonus.

darn, now i have to get my hands on yet another graphic novel …

disclaimer - i have not read the entire alan moore graphic novel; only bits from the two chapters i got together with my RM 69.90 two disc special edition dvd pack from speedy video. my perception is based entirely on the film version.

kitchen slave

i'm in love.

as much as miss j was with her aquos, i want to make muffins and cakes with my pattisier (tm) cake mixer on rainy sundays in my beautiful new kitchen (my brownies mixture is beaten by hand).

except i haven't decided how to design my new kitchen yet, and am not exactly swimming in dough to have the finishings i want.

but, whatever it is, it will be a labour of love.

my head is filled with different kitchen cabinet materials (white painted wood? beech? birch?) and designs (partial overlay? full?) and corresponding countertops (granite? (i wish), corian? lg hi-macs? quartz solid surfacing? wood - mahogany, beech? laminates?), and all i want to do is surf the net and run out and visit showrooms.

please excuse me while i go and drool.

hong kong part ii

flying flags, sek-o, southern hong kong


mosque gates, soho

hong kong part i

signs, central; seats, star ferry

gie

ok, i have thus far failed to find this album (online), but have been listening to the title track for the past two days non-stop in front of the pc at home and the office.

it’s darn addictive and has gotten me into my “i love indonesia” mood all over again (for the umpteenth time these past 12 months).

until i can get my hands on the song/album and figure out how to put it up here, click on the link if you want to have a listen.

if anyone knows where i can get the vcd/dvd/if its showing anywhere in kl, please let me know.

Gie
Eross Feat Okta

sampaikanlah pada ibuku
aku pulang terlambat waktu
ku akan menaklukkan malam
dengan jalan pikiranku

sampaikanlah pada bapakku
aku mencari jalan atas
semua keresahan-keresahan ini
kegelisahan manusia

retaklah..
malam yang dingin

tak pernah berhenti berjuang
pecahkan teka-teki malam
tak pernah berhenti berjuang
pecahkan teka-teki keadilan-Mu

berbagi waktu dengan alam
kau akan tahu
siapa dirimu yang sebenarnya
hakikat manusia

tak pernah berhenti berjuang
pecahkan teka-teki malam
tak pernah berhenti berjuang
pecahkan teka-teki keadilan-Mu

akan aku telusuri jalan yg setapak ini
semoga kutemukan jawaban

maaf zahir & batin

stone temple pilots

clockwise from left: karnak; lone buddha, borobudur; abu simbel; borobudur

fables and reflections

there’s something exceptionally beautiful about hand-drawn illustrations.

when i was around 11 my aunt gave my sister and i a stack of old jackie magazines (a british teenage magazine) from when she was young. they were printed in the mid to late 70’s, and cost about 6p.

the later 80’s editions of the magazine had picture stories, with slick coloured photographs of real people and captions.

but it’s the ones from the 70’s that i loved the most.

there, the stories were painstakingly hand-illustrated, black ink on white paper, bound only by the storyteller’s and illustrator’s imaginations.

and with the precious handfuls of copies i had, i could see a pattern in the stories, just from who the illustrator was (i never knew their names, but i would recognize their work).

the tales were usually about love (well, this *was* a teen magazine) but the impact of those stories and drawings stayed with me for the longest time.

they made me want to go and see hadrian’s wall, seek refuge in an abandoned priory and dream of dragons. they were also probably responsible for my obsession with arched stone bridges and partially ruined castles (waay before the first highlander movie).

but somewhere along the line i grew up (or grew older, at least), the dreams faded and picture stories somehow became childish.

until last year.

when i first discovered neil gaiman’s sandman graphic novels.

and went (back) into the dreaming.

other people feel compelled to read the quran during ramadan; me, infidel that i am, i feel the urge to read neil gaiman.

i read preludes and nocturnes, and the doll’s house this time last year. and in the last two weeks i have been religiously reading books 3 – 8 (which I have had for about a year!) just before i go to sleep, and in the wee hours of the morning after sahur (diaz tell your j i will return them soon!).

my favourite i think is brief lives, where dream and delirium try to find their brother destruction, and find, as you do, that you cannot seek destruction unscathed. it also sets (am told) the stage for the beginning of the end, foretold in world's end.

am now on the lookout for the last two (the kindly ones and the wake) for completion, though i have a horrible, sinking feeling i know what will happen ...

in the meantime am reading his short stories and illusions in smoke and mirrors.

one delicious (and at times disturbing) tale at a time.

shades of grey

this is kind of exciting, creating something new.

a bit scary even.

while miss j has gone down the pink and blue line, i am still stuck in the murkiness of non-colours. must be all the sandman comics i have been reading before going to sleep.

am experimenting with pictures from past travels; reducing them to monochromes.

maybe i'll print and frame them and hang them on the walls of my new house. once i have enough dosh to do it up properly, that is.

for now, they will have to wait.



clockwise from left: rumah gadang, sumatera; new gurna, luxor; luxor temple; borobudur

restless

there he is again.

sometimes i don’t see him for days and his office is completely dark.

other times it’s full of activity and people. or, like now, he is also working late, alone.

it’s almost comforting to be able to look across the street, and physically see another person stuck at work, in a darkened room, without another soul in sight.

here he comes to the curtain- and blind-less windows, and talking on his handphone again, with the window open.as is mine.

i wonder what he does.

i wonder if he notices me.

i wonder what he would do if i smiled at him.

would he smile back?

could he even see the smile from this distance?

or maybe i should wave?

i wonder.

this is not a drill, i repeat, this is not a drill