Confessions of a Girl Gone Mad

crest of mind

2012-01-16T11:42:00.003+07:00

the thing is this. the feeling comes and goes. one day i think i will be fine throughout the 24 hours ahead. and for a while, things are fine. then shit happens and i move on. another shit happens and i want to throw my phone through the glass and then i move on. it kinda is the rule, isn't it? then there are days with things that just make me want to shut down. the things that make me go to my burrow of reliable things but sometimes they just don't have the solace i seek. the things that make me realize that i've spent gazillions for fucking nothing because i'm still crestfallen and i feel so rotten inside. the things that make me want to step on the fucking gas, step up face to face to the fucking coward, and demand a fucking explanation.

lately those days come more often than usual.

for now

2012-01-14T02:42:00.000+07:00

for a while, it could not get any better. it was raining--it was raining hard--it was just the two of us in the car, and the talk was about our current interest. i never talked about it with other people, even though i cannot stop devouring it, and i suspected it was the same with him. it was not anything taboo, hardly something with shaky moral ground, but i think we both know it was a name better left unspoken of. to say that i was surprised when i found out he liked this name as well would be an understatement. and i was also somewhat glad to know that from now on i could talk to him about.....hmm, this certain royal highness in music.

for a short ride, and perhaps because we both knew it was going to be brief, in that tiny span of moment we were competing to talk, affirm our opinions, and throw questions at each other. as it is, as it was, i know that still nothing is going to happen. but i swear, in that slight occasion, in a flash, in a fleeting period of time, i became deliriously happy.

i am certainly not the most cheerful person on the planet, but going back to where we were for now would do the trick. for now.

nothing's going to happen

2012-01-09T14:43:00.004+07:00

i've been going back and forth on giving him a belated birthday present. at the risk of sounding like a 14 year old, i don't want to be seen as giving him special treatments as i've never given the others birthday presents. but i want to see him smiling, and i want to see him smile because of me. i sound 13 now, don't i?

bollocks.

i want to die every time he makes charming efforts in our chats, and he's not just being polite because i initiated it or that i'm someone he looks up to. (he actually said that, i'm not being delusional). but at the same time i know that nothing's going to happen. so i shall resume to just stealing glances at that beautiful profile of his. great. now i sound 12.

bollocks.

dance dance dance

2012-01-08T00:29:00.000+07:00

there was a time when for a while i did not speak to anyone. i think it was for days, though i forget how many. i ignored phone calls (and there were not many), avoided meeting people in hallways (i waited for them to go away and only then did i go out of the room), and i ate what was there in the room in order to save me from buying food (which required me speaking to the seller). i did not sing along to any song. i did not say a word to my sister (who happened to be living in the next room to mine). i did not speak to myself. even by heart. i did not want to think, and i did not want to ponder about tomorrow. or the future. i played difficult games so i thought about those instead. how to win, how to succeed, how to earn the expert scores.

i forgot what made me speak again. i think it was a phone call i had to take. and hearing my voice again, after so long, was one of the strangest things that ever happened. it was strange to talk, even stranger to hear what was hanging in the air afterwards. the room was not big, there was not an echo after i spoke. but my voice was just there, beside my ears.

i think it was the longest period of time where i did not speak at all. three, maybe four days? now it's us. so i suppress everything. the little things, medium stuff, large ones, and gigantic concerns. sometimes i forget what day and date it is. days are a blur. i am almost a hermit, and i don't mind. i do mind feeling worthless, as you clearly point out and i sort of agree yet the other me slaps that thought away or at least she tries very hard to. now i'm tired. i get tired very easily these days. things are a blur. or maybe they always were and i never realized it.

on being fine

2012-01-07T00:16:00.002+07:00

h: it's fine.
a: no, it's not fine.
h: i guess it's not fine. but it is the way that it is, right? so...
a: yeah.

singing in the shower

2012-01-04T17:51:00.005+07:00

here are some of the songs i sing in the shower. (yes, because they simply must be shared.)

and of course when one (eg. me) sings any song from that film, one continues with the other songs. on my part, they are 'sixteen going to seventeen' and 'i have confidence'.

this one is where i belt out like there's no tomorrow. killer lyrics. killer, i say.

there was one time when i simply couldn't stop singing this song. i sang it to my dogs, i sang it on the way to work, and of course, i sang it in the shower.

brilliant lyrics. and it's actually a difficult song to sing, at least for me. i know i'm no proper singer and those twirly notes are really something.

needless to say, i love these songs dearly. the kind where i have the utmost respect for every line of lyrics, for the melody, for the production, and the emotions laid bare on every song. so yeah, these are a few that make me hum in the shower or, more often, roar.

so now you know.

Life As We Know It

2012-01-03T19:49:00.004+07:00

"Favoritism: The practice of giving unfair preferential treatment to one person or group at the expense of another." Isn't it staggeringly crappy that at the age of thirty something, you still face this? And that you still cannot take it lightly and move on. You are exhausted of keeping things up to her standard and then you get a slamming door in return. Another behaves without a care and life is nothing but a bed of roses. It hasn't changed in years, and you have run out of things and tricks to live up to uncertain moods. So.... then what?

So then I watch Lindsay Weir and her friends, and I can't help thinking about Angela Chase. And her friends. Rayanne, especially. I've been dressing as if I'm one of them. Angela and Rayanne, I mean, not Lindsay. Though I would love to have her jacket. I have also been wearing flatforms (I got my first pair in March, and the second in December. Them being uncommon here causes me pain. Great pain.), and I would wear them for all eternity if it's possible.

I also organize a farm, a fish farm, and helping to build the Eiffel Tower. Oh, I also watch Leslie Knope. And 'friends'. And when my eyes get tired, my back starts to hurt, and it's after 9, I go to sleep.

I lead a terribly exciting life.

muji

2011-12-30T14:51:00.008+07:00

ada beberapa merek yang lumayan berpengaruh buat saya. topshop selalu bikin saya jemari meremas-remas baju (sendiri). belakangan harga produk topshop (baca: pakaian) terlalu mahal buat saya, dan koleksi yang masuk di jakarta kebanyakan main di wilayah aman, sehingga kesan quirky-nya nggak sekental dulu. tapi di antara yang banyak itu, selalu ada beberapa yang bikin hati saya disko darurat. saya suka banget rasa mode inggris yang berhasil dibawa topshop: ada kunonya, ada slengeannya. prim and proper as well as independent. selain topshop, saya sangat suka muji. sangat sangat sangat suka. segimana sukanya? tiap ke toko muji, saya siap lahir batin kalo tiba-tiba disuruh tinggal di situ.

begitu udah masuk di dalam toko muji, saya merasa tenang dan senang. bukan cuma perkara saya doyan belanja, suka barang bagus, atau kagum dengan filosofi mereka. ya mungkin gabungan itu semua. saya bukan orang yang terlalu suka desain minimalis, juga untuk desain interior atau produk-produk interior yang minimalis. tapi untuk muji, semuanya bergeser. dan saya lebih senang menyebutnya sederhana sih, bukan minimalis. almost zen-like, perhaps? khusus untuk toko yang di plaza indonesia, itu jadi favorit saya. mungkin karena ukurannya yang pas, tidak sebesar yang di grand indonesia (saya belum pernah ke muji mal taman anggrek atau muji paris van java, bandung). dan selalu rasanya adalah saya bisa hilang di situ. kalau lagi susah hati, rasanya pengen bisa merem dan pas melek, sudah ada di toko muji. di mana semuanya hanya tenang dan tenang.

saya lupa pengalaman toko muji saya yang pertama kali kapan dan di mana. sepertinya di singapura, bugis junction, di dalam department store seiyu (yang sekarang namanya sudah ganti jadi BHG). dulu rasanya masih lebih banyak bengong lihat barang-barangnya. sekarang, saya selalu mau nangis tiap masuk toko muji yang di plaza indonesia. penyebab paling besarnya adalah musik yang diputar. seperti musik klasik, dan yang pasti, selalu tenang. bukan mars, bukan waltz, apalagi requiem. lagunya ganti-ganti, tapi hati saya selalu seperti dipelintir rasanya. kombinasi lagu seperti itu dengan tata lampu terang dan tata letak barang apik, duh gusti, nyuwun pangapunten.

(gambar diambil dari sini)

berhubung harga barang-barang muji cukup terjangkau, ini cukup mengganggu ketenteraman dompet dan rekening. saya, misalnya, pernah berambisi punya sebanyak-banyaknya sarung bantal muji. tiap ke tokonya, saya beli barang satu atau dua buah. ngepetnya, ambisi saya lalu nggak berhenti di sarung bantal. entah sadar atau nggak sadar, sedikit demi sedikit saya mulai menimbun barang-barang muji. ada amplop, kertas surat, stapler, penggaris, pensil, atau semacam post-it. itu baru alat tulis. ada juga tas kecil, sepatu, kaos kaki, rok, gaun, kaos hangat, tas (tas sehari-hari sampai tas bepergian), sarung guling, handuk kecil, handuk besar, tempat sabun (dengan selang yang bikin sabun cair jadi busa), kertas penyerap minyak wajah, gunting kuku, mie kering, popcorn, sampai teh susu. (dan ya ampun, teh susunya juga enak mampus.) untuk ibu, saya pernah belikan mangkok. untuk bapak, saya pernah belikan pakaian dalam. untuk teman-teman, saya pernah belikan kemeja, topi, dan teh. saya sampai sekarang agak menyesal nggak jadi beli mixer muji pas beruntung bisa ke toko muji yang di tokyo.

satu hal yang bikin saya tergila-gila pada muji adalah desain dan fungsi yang betul-betul apik. semuanya serba efisien, dipikirkan dengan tepat dan cermat. nggak ada yang terbuang, nggak ada yang sia-sia. dan idenya itu selalu ada-ada aja. coba lihat ini:

udah bentuk burungnya jepang banget ('jepang banget' iku opo?), trus kenapa sih kepikiran aja 'sarang'-nya seperti itu? kenapa?

ada juga ini:

saya ini suka banget kuda. kalo liat kuda, bisa dipastikan saya akan nyamperin dan ngelus-ngelus dia. saya pernah mati sejenak saat ke istal kuda di limo, depok, dan ngeliat langsung kuda-kuda setinggi 2 meter. kata mas penjaganya, kalo kena tendangan kaki belakangnya, lutut saya akan langsung sompral. saya juga suka banget komedi putar. dan, saya juga suka banget music box. dua hal itu selalu bikin saya nangis dalam hati. jadi ketika semua itu bersatu, saya harus gimana coba. GIMANA? saya suka bahwa konsep kesederhanaan muji tetap kental di situ, seperti warna di kuda hanya di bagian ekor dan surai. (gambar-gambar diambil dari facebook muji indonesia.)

itu hanya sedikit sekali contoh dari berbagai barang muji yang berkesan buat saya. awal januari, satu lagi toko muji di jakarta akan buka, di pondok indah mal 1. saya diundang ke pembukaannya. cieh. dan dari sekarang, saya udah deg-degan. doakan saya nggak tiba-tiba nangis di tengah-tengah toko. dan ya tuhan saya minta doanya semoga saya nggak kalap beli ini itu. sebagai penutup, berikut adalah video muji untuk hari natal tahun ini. seperti semua produknya, video muji ini juga membuat saya mendesah dalam hati. dan jatuh kagum untuk kesekian kalinya.

cat and pen and mayo

2011-12-28T14:22:00.003+07:00

this one is taken from here, an old archive. always a dog person, then cats stole my heart during college years. they were always around my rented room, so i fed them. as with dogs, the uglier the cats are, the more attracted i get. i am also very attracted to dogs/cats with personalities, such as that freaky one above. the picture, for me, is priceless.

last week there was a sort of event at aksara/707/monka magic, prices were cut down and there were some dj's spinning records as well as bands. people were coming and coming, familiar faces. there were handshakes, hello's, hugs, air kisses, and warm chats. a band member was telling me how he was left penniless because he just bought pulp's different class vinyl (first pressing) in hongkong for usd 450. 'my band was booked for a new year's event, so i assumed i can pay the vinyl with that fee. and then after i bought it, the organizer called to tell that we were cancelled." i really hope he'd get hugely rewarding gigs, starting from now. anyway, the books i was looking for at aksara were unavailable. so i bought none. i was almost patting my own shoulder with pride for buying nothing. until i saw these five. these are retro ballpoints from kikkerland, and there was no goddamn way i was coming out of the store without them. i then had to leave aksara early because i was meeting a friend at bluegrass. these were my victims on that night.

above is pork belly over rice, or crispy pork belly over a bed of aromatic turmeric rice. below is bluegrass's wings: grilled marinated chicken wings served with lemon cilantro mayo. verdict: i had no memory of what my friend said during the times i ate the chicken wings. at all. except the time she said, "you're awfully quiet. and you look so serene." i wanted to cry many times whenever i tasted something new and savoury. but, this... this was brand new to me. the mayo. the wings. the mayo. i would BATHE in the mayo WHILE eating the chicken wings. and the pork belly? to be honest, the skin was too thick for me. they ended up not being crispy at all, but the meat was tender and jesus christ i want to marry the rice and have beautiful kids with the rice. i do. WAIT. i think i know what to order in my next visit. turmeric rice AND chicken wings AND the mayo. no talking will be needed. no, sirree.

wish

2011-12-27T21:39:00.001+07:00

taken from here

ps. i like the lyrics, and i like the image. posting this, i do not wish for anyone in particular to be here, as i am deeply preoccupied playing games. this is not some 'cryptic' message for anyone. do not bother deciphering. it's just a song.

on connection

2011-12-19T22:49:00.003+07:00

we are alike. two peas in a pod, almost. shouldn't be a reason to back down, though. why would you? just because you're scared of what might happen? are you scared of the fun we have together? you sense that we are something special, don't you? you don't say it to me, but i know you do. if there's one thing you didn't know, i once took a similar picture, with a similar approach. i was nowhere in your scene but i pretty sure know what went on. do you think there's a big force somewhere up there, making sure we are interconnected, always? i try not to believe in such things but yeah sometimes it is just crystal clear how we are going to be in each other's lives for good. even when you treat me like shit. even when i want to destroy your life. i suspect we are in this for the long haul.

on distractions

2011-12-19T13:56:00.003+07:00

this is what i'm supposedly working on, with some writing on the side. but what is deadline without side dishes? so i fondly reminisce my lunch the day before.

i cannot for the love of god choose between siomay and batagor. inhuman! they both present very different textures and taste, albeit linked with the same peanut sauce. up till the second i faced the seller, i still could not make up my mind. siomay or batagor? siomay has that velvety feeling, tender and savory. batagor may not be as tender, but it has that distinct crunch. and when that crumbly pieces of heaven crackle upon chewing amidst the flowing river that is peanut sauce, already hinted with sweet soy sauce and lime, oh dear oh dear oh dear. siomay or batagor? but when you can go both ways, why choose? WHY? and the seller granted my wish. he even almost bowed when he agreed to my gluttonous wish. or i could just be imagining things. so there it is. siomay and batagor on one plate. befriending an es oyen. everything was sinfully rich and luscious i had to take moments of silence every now and then. such is the hardship i have to endure.

i'm reading this book, inbetween everything. cool photos, cool tidbits, and even cooler people. this is what they say about "100,000 fireflies" by the magnetic fields: "it was a haunting, spare, and strange amalgam: an artificial tick-tock drum-machine beat beneath what sounded like a toy piano playing sugary melodies and a gorgeous, classic woman's voice singing desperately sad lyrics with a delivery reminiscent of petula clark. it reminded mac of a lo-fi, motown-inflected yaz, featured one of the most memorable opening lines ever laid to tape - 'i have a mandolin/i play it all night long/it makes me want to kill myself' - and sounded like pop music from the distant future as it might have been imagined in 1965." lord almighty. i mean....to tear myself away from this book would be a crime. i once set "100,000 fireflies" as my cell's ringtone. and i listened to it almost non-stop. the book also has chapters dedicated to neutral milk hotel and the arcade fire. on one page, it has the may 1992 cover of alternative press, with the cover lines: superchunk, curve, bongwater, nick cave, pavement, l7, foetus, wedding present.

must. go. to. ebay. now.

sabtu

2011-12-10T11:05:00.002+07:00

ada sesuatu tentang cuaca yang tak terlalu mendung tak pula panas dan angin dingin melewati jemari kakimu. seperti setiap sore di hotel itu, aku melongok ke bawah dan melihat susunan bunga dan rumput yang tak bagus-bagus amat tapi tiba-tiba aku selalu ingin menangis tak tahu kenapa. cuaca seperti itu hadir saat ini, 10 desember 2011 kira-kira pukul 11 lewat di jakarta bagian selatan. ranting-ranting pohon rambutan di depan kamarku mulai sesak dengan buahnya. kebanyakan baru hijau, beberapa merah menyala. di lapangan voli dekat rumah ada perayaan, entah kawinan entah khitanan, yang pasti musik dangdut dari tadi berkeras dengan sember. "alamat palsu". tentu saja, lagu apalagi yang paling populer saat ini? tadinya aku ingin tidur seharian dan semalaman hingga hari ini lewat supaya aku tak usah lihat mereka bersama. lihat di tivi saja rasanya aku akan mampus, apalagi dikasih undangan untuk lihat langsung. lalu aku kepikiran untuk bikin bolu pisang saja. memanggang bisa jadi jawaban, karena itu membutuhkan konsentrasi dan tenaga. jangan lupa, aku juga harus pasang cd dengan volume keras. dengan itu, semua lengang dan senyap ini barangkali bisa pergi.

smile

2011-12-10T00:12:00.000+07:00

i got to know cocteau twins around the year of 2000. i was not (i believe i still am not) the cool kid who was ahead in the knowledge of music. truthfully? when my colleague (in a music magazine) told me he listened to pale saints and soup dragon in 1992, all i remember from that year was i spent my days singing along to neil sedaka and connie francis. i never heard of my bloody valentine and lush. i was too much in love with axl rose. i guess you could say i grew up reading and listening to pretty mainstream stuff. seventeen, not select. color me badd, not chapterhouse. much later on, the internet introduced me to a whole different galaxy. i found names i only heard of, and i could actually 'have' their songs. i found saint etienne and cocteau twins on my own. it was not the cool thing to do to find unheard names, back then the term 'indie' was not even heard of. i found them solely because i was hungry. and the internet was a huge restaurant with bottomless plates. you read about one thing, and someone suggested five more similar names. i searched and i searched, i downloaded and i downloaded. i had to try these names by myself, with the help of soulseek and napster. there were no pitchfork or stereogum to tell me about the cool new releases or who they think would be a big hit. suddenly, it was just me and this gigantic new world.

something told me that i should not give up on cocteau twins, though their first song i heard did not do anything to me. i was not blown away when i first heard them. but i struggled to find more. i read everything there was to know about them, how reclusive they were, how out of this world their music was, and how they released all these rare stuff. one of them was pictured above. it is a single (violaine 1, 1996) from their last album (milk and kisses, 1996), consisted of three songs with two only to be found in the single. one of those two was one of the earliest cocteau twins' songs i came to know, and love so dearly. "smile" is unlike anything i ever heard of, and it's even unlike cocteau twins with their dream pop trademark. yes, the searing vocal and layered guitars are there. yes, it's blissful and fluffy yet muscular in a way only cocteau twins could master. but it still sounds.....different. i find that in each of their album, they have at least one song that is a bit more uptempo, a bit jollier than the rest. this is apparent with "bluebeard" and "squeeze-wax" (four calendar cafe, 1993) and "pitch the baby" (heaven or las vegas, 1990). (they also have this 'habit' of having an anthemic, larger-than-life song as the last in every album, or so i suspect with the transparent evidence of "ella megalast burls forever" (blue bell knoll, 1988), "frou-frou foxes in midsummer fires" (heaven or las vegas), and "pur" (four calendar cafe). i also find that in every album, there has to be at least one song, uhm.....suited for, uhm.... acts of, uhm......copulation. "cico buff" (blue bell knoll) is said to be the number one favorite among cocteau twins' fans. and, uhm......i sort of agree.)

anyway, jolly and uptempo are not the first traits you'd find linked with cocteau twins. but "smile" is those two things and so much more. it is delicate, exquisite, and gorgeous. the sublime bass line is the guard throughout the song, along with the unbelievably beautiful repetitive guitars. and that voice. the same voice that masterfully alternates high notes with even higher ones. that voice only elizabeth fraser could produce. i can never play this song one time only. as soon as it's finished, i push 'repeat' without thinking. it is the kind of music that makes you hungry for more.

back then when i first found "smile", i came to know that cocteau twins released a few singles that were hard to find, as they disbanded in 1998 and their almost-cult status resulted in die-hard fans who coveted everything they ever released. violaine singles were notoriously difficult to get, though the number one in that department is their "snow" single (1993). i chased for the violaine single for quite some time, but to no avail. the thing about music stuff is that you have to be patient. so while i temporarily gave up hope for violaine, i tried to acquire every other thing i could get my hands on. i became those people who MUST have their every release, including albums released by different labels and/or came in varied packages (glass-case or digipack or box set). here are a few (ahem!) of them:

collecting cocteau twins' releases, i learnt that i could never hurry. so it has been years since i searched for anything by them. i think my latest purchase was in 2007 (lullabies to violaine, compilation of singles). my recent ebay craze, though, prompted me to look for things i had not thought of in a while. i haven't acquired that much: one lp, one ep and one single (all vinyls) and one ep in cassette. and it brought me to the one thing i thought i could never find. that single which has "smile" in it. that blasted cd i thought i never could lay my hands on. i actually felt something stirred inside when it finally came in the mail.

i have been wanting to muster a proper writing about cocteau twins since forever. they are, after all, where my two blogs' names come from. and they are responsible for making me this enthroned to music. yet....i still feel i am a stupid newbie, who still has a mammoth of things to learn. and snag. like, for instance, i haven't got a single, i repeat, i haven't got a single cocteau twins t-shirt. that is just pure bollocks, isn't it? it bloody is. and if you feel the need to listen to cocteau twins after reading this, please do. i'd be happy to make a bit of a mixtape. and here's that "smile" song i have been talking about so much. i hope you'd find it as enjoyable as i did.

phantom

2011-12-06T21:30:00.002+07:00

some days, like today, moments pass just like that, though i felt like i was about to break down in any given moment. i woke up at 6, struggling to keep my eyes open and next thing i knew, i was in a film preview. then i had these for lunch.

yeah. those were some pretty pleasant swikee goreng tepung. i probably first came to the place more than 10 years ago, under the guidance of my father. my choices have never changed: it was always fried frog legs, the insanely savoury soup (or the hilariously named KS, as in "kuahnya saja") and jambal (fried shrimp but mostly it's just fried flour to be drenched in soy sauce). those three things, the trinity, fall in the category of my comfort food. the soup does things to me. each sip is like a stroke on the back, or a convincing hug that things would be just fine. each sip is thick with garlic, tauco and sweet soy sauce and for the love of god i cannot emphasize enough how good this soup is. with iced tea and rice, the whole thing cost me 48 thousand rupiahs.

then i had to attend a press conference held at pepenero, where they served lunch. uhm. one did just gobble her holy trinity food, but when one was faced with the possibility of ravioli di carne al funghi one could not be expected to decline, no? preposterous! well, one then only had a small portion of the mushrooms as one was a fan and one happily reports that it was divine. the ravioli was filled with beef and spinach, and together with the delicate cream, one resorted to loosen up one's belt for more, ahem, accommodation. in a weak attempt to save my reputation, no, i did not finish this meal all by myself. i gave the rest to a friend after a few mushrooms and one (or, presumably, two) ravioli.

thereon i went to a place where i found and bought these three. today's record-hunting resulted in nothing so i switched to books. beside the compulsory malory towers-famous five-etc, fantomette was my darling hero. all through my junior high and high school years, i borrowed fantomette books from the school library regularly. she's this quick-witted, slick, savvy girl that is beyond cool. her two friends are amusing as hell, the empty-headed-yet-kind-and dependable ficelle and boulotte who seems to be eating on every page. i guess i never realized the translation to bahasa indonesia was also superb until i began reading fantomette again this afternoon on the way home. case in point:

"Ficelle membuka lebar-lebar mata-bolanya dan berseru,
'Jika semua calon disabit seperti itu....'
'Disabot, maksudmu?'
'Ya, jika mereka disobat, tak seorang pun yang tertinggal untuk perebutan gelar itu.' "

pretty clever stuff, i say. i had to muffle myself on the bus earlier as i sensed some people leered as i was giggling. wordplay in translating is always praiseworthy. there's more. there are a number of names used to describe a reporter's car, such as: 'gerobak dari jaman Firaun', 'mobil rongsokan', 'gerobak bermesin', 'mobil jaman prasejarah', and my favorite: 'gerobak itu jalannya seperti kura-kura sedang liburan'. dear translator sundari husen, i applaud you.

the fantomette book above was printed in 1983. today, it is impossible to find any in bookstores. even during my teenage years, the reason i borrowed them from the library was because they were nowhere to be found in any bookstore. alrighty then, one more thing to pursue in this life: fantomette books. d'accord.

on mess

2011-12-01T11:31:00.003+07:00

it's one of those days when things just run amok one after another. public transportation system in this city is retarded, it's never changed since i was in my teens, and it's like witnessing and at the same time experiencing an evil loop never to end. a pedestrian in this city is living a horror film every time he/she walks. last night i passed three other pedestrians crossing the street (on a crossing, during a red light) with such fear on their faces and they were running. i said to my sister who was with me last night, 'what a terrible, terrible city we're living in if even when we're using our rights as pedestrians, we are still so terrified.'

this morning was another example of public transportation fuckery i had to deal with. i won't bother to explain what happened as it was ridiculously stupid, involving some driver who did not have his identification card and uniform with him so he decided to ditch his passengers way before the supposed point because a police raid was ongoing. oh. i just explained, didn't i. well, then i had a couple of mishaps and it was boiling hot and i fucking hate every time my perspiration system meets my habit of swift walking and then i remember what my friend said the other day, 'we should be grateful, shouldn't we, that we have our healthy, functioning eyes.' (i was telling him how i almost bawled on a bus when there was a blind busker playing an ukulele and singing javanese songs.) so i did. i took a moment and i took a deep, deep breath and i said thanks for everything i had.

i was still cranky afterwards, of course, though i suspected it came from hunger. i am quite angry about a few things. about jakarta. about the luck some people have. about how you could be a manager and all you do is chat and tweet all day long. or even worse. you chat on twitter. but in the end, so what, right? my life is my life and theirs are theirs. i say congratulations for their luck, and i deal with my own. i suck up daily pangs, because what else is there to do? i am thankful for my job, family and friends. and television serials. also books. and some things more. but this city, and some people, sometimes could bring down even the most optimistic ones.

on woe

2011-11-26T20:21:00.005+07:00

she suddenly said, "i've given up on pleasing myself a long time ago. too much fuss and effort. first i had to find a suitable porn. that usually took most of my time. i had to be picky, of course. how else was i going to be aroused in the right amount? then i had to wait for the porn to be downloaded. i also needed to find the right tool. because sometimes fingers just did not do the job, you know? and then what? it was always the same. five seconds of bodily ecstasy to be followed by an hour, at least, of self-loathing and grief? probably i'm not being very honest with you. because other than porn, the most important thing was i imagined him. him caressing me, him kissing me, him holding me, him being passionate as if the world was about to burst if he did not make love to me right there and then. i can still remember the fire in his eyes, traveling through his hands so that each touch made you believe there was heaven. his mouth, his tongue. he was always a passionate kisser, and it tore me apart to remember that i wanted to die each time we kissed deeply the same time he was inside me. and i always said his name when i came. a habit i didn't want to hold onto yet it was with me during my self-pleasing moments. the activity itself was good, because of course you still had urges even though your partner suddenly decided another girl was worth breaking your heart for. because even after you smashed every single thing he's given you, those urges didn't go away, did they? and because you were so accustomed to him, the words were the same. they were his name, or your nickname for him. and after an orgasm shot you through the roof, after those elating seconds, you were bound to come down eventually. and you remembered it was just you all alone in bed, his dick was not inside you, you were the farthest thing from his kisses and hugs, and every single thing he said that turned out to be a lie came crashing down on you like knives, and you were left.....as this blubbering mess. you were shaking in bed, not because you had an intense orgasm, but because you missed him like you wouldn't believe. your lips couldn't stop shaking, you closed your eyes for what seemed like eternity, and still he never came back. and it pained me more each time i masturbated. so i just stopped. i never told this to anyone before, i was ashamed. it was supposed to make us feel good yet i only cried afterwards. and i don't know whether i could get over this. sometimes i wish i could fuck any random guy just to replace my memory of us. but i haven't been lucky in that department also, have i?"

and with that last line, she laughed. i joined her laughter and i held her hand tight, as i don't know what to say. i really don't.

one evening

2011-11-20T22:35:00.004+07:00

i hate it when work interferes with writing here. i have been wanting to post yet work was suddenly here and there. and now when i make time for a post, the card reader suddenly went apeshit and therefore it interferes with me wanting to post a thousand pictures here. for three days last week i was in thailand for work. it was a test drive for this cool car that had a mind of its own. at first it kind of annoyed me that i had to go all the way there (in total it took 4 hours and 10 minutes of flying) as this was not some big music event/name i had to cover. alas! i've long suspected that i must've been some kind of a driver in my past life (lives?) as driving is like up there in my list of favorite things to do. way up there. probably number three. i really don't mind driving for hours. i am giddy whenever i could try driving cars i haven't driven before. even if driving here means i am just parking a car in the office's parking lot because the security guy can't drive and there's no one else around. i really don't mind. so. the test drive's course was well-thought and planned. after a smooth highway, i tasted uphill roads (bumpy and holey and narrow) which led to the downhill road in the middle of a forest (muddy and wet and slippery. YES!), then to a sort of water crossing (about 60 cm high) and back to the hotel. it was such a perfect feeling, all day behind the steering wheel, and it's just me and the road.

below are some pictures not related to my nonsense above (will try to post more pictures once i get a hold of a working card reader).

ramen with sauteed pork. this is the first thing i ate when i arrived at the svarnabhumi airport. and by god it was good. i wanted to cry while eating this but the presence of other journalists made me hold it inside.

the sight to behold. this was not to be passed!
and so.....

i chose banana cream pie.

in the evening, we were asked to join the lantern festival. we held this huge paper cylinder thing from its droopy and limp state while someone lighted the fire within (it was a bit like an air balloon, they said), waited for it to be straight and strong enough for us to release it into the air, while blowing our wishes.

when everyone let go of these giant lanterns, they quickly fill the sky and up up they went. everywhere i looked, there were yellow spots up in the air, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. the most beautiful was when the lanterns were released continuously from one point on the ground far away, and from where i was standing, it was almost like an endless line of dance of yellow light, swayed by the wind, finding their ways to the heavens.

ps. i am not in the picture above. i am the culprit of these crappy pictures that do no justice to the real sight. please believe me that it was beautiful.

Christopher

2011-11-09T04:44:00.001+07:00

Kalau aku Christopher, maka aku bisa bilang hari ini akan jadi hari yang paling membuatku girang. Dia punya teori, melihat tiga mobil merah berturut-turut adalah tanda hari itu akan baik-baik saja. Empat, hari yang oke. Lima, hari yang luar biasa. Tapi kasusku agak berbeda. Aku tidak melihat mobil merah berturut-turut. Tidak tiga, tidak empat, apalagi sampai lima. Yang kulihat adalah tanggal lahirmu di nomor polisi mobil. Ada tiga, semuanya berturut-turut. Tak hanya itu. Selama perjalanan, aku juga melihat inisialmu di nomor polisi mobil-mobil yang lain. Yang ini bahkan lebih banyak, ada empat buah. Tapi aku tidak melihatnya berturut-turut. Aku ingin bertanya pada Christopher, apakah itu berarti aku tidak usah ambil pusing? Dan aku juga ingin bilang padanya, "Aku tidak kurang kerjaan dan memelototi setiap mobil di depan atau di sampingku. Mereka datang begitu saja, misalnya setelah persimpangan. Atau ketika aku menoleh ke kanan atau kiri." Aku tak ingin dianggap mengada-ada atau membesar-besarkan sesuatu. Atau bahkan mencari-cari hal yang bisa dianggap sebagai pertanda. Jadi mungkin aku tak usah bilang pada Christopher bahwa selain tanggal lahir dan inisial, aku juga melihat namamu di macam-macam tempat. Bukan sebagai nama perusahaan atau nama toko, itu sudah terlalu lazim dan tak kuanggap lagi. Tapi kulihat namamu di karung beras yang teronggok di dekat lampu merah, juga di bon penjual toko (tapi bukan sebagai nama toko!) saat membeli air. Totalnya adalah tanggal lahir tiga kali, inisial empat kali, dan nama lima kali. Bahkan ada lagi. Sebuah stasiun radio lalu memutarkan salah satu lagu favoritmu. Kau tidak bilang ke banyak orang kau suka lagu itu, kau bilang ke aku juga dengan malu-malu, karena lagu itu dinyanyikan anggota boyband. Tapi kau bersikeras bahwa lagu itu bagus, dan karena itu kau suka. Dulu perasaanku biasa-biasa saja pada lagu itu, tapi semenjak kau buka salah satu rahasiamu itu, lama-lama aku setuju bahwa lagu itu bagus. Intronya saja selalu sangat menyentuhku, dan aku selalu ingat namamu tiap dengar itu di radio. Setelah semua kebetulan itu--plat mobil, nama, lagu--aku sedikit bertanya-tanya. Tapi tidak tahu resminya harus tanya pada siapa, jadilah aku menulis di sini. Karena aku sudah pernah dimarahi (oleh dua orang pula) bahwa tak usahlah aku cari-cari makna di balik kebetulan-kebetulan itu. Atau berhentilah menganggap ada sesuatu yang istimewa di angka dan huruf tertentu itu. Jadi karena aku tak ingin melihat angka dan huruf itu, aku memaksa diriku tidur. Mata yang terpejam tak akan membiarkan aku sekonyong-konyong lihat lebih banyak lagi inisialmu. Aku juga tak akan bilang pada siapa-siapa bahwa kebetulan-kebetulan ini terjadi setiap hari. Nanti disangkanya harus ada sesuatu yang lahir dari kebetulan itu. Walau ada yang bilang, kalau terjadi setiap hari maka namanya bukan kebetulan. Lalu apa? Aku harus menyebutnya takdir? Nasib? Simbol? Atau, lagi-lagi, pertanda? Toh tak ada yang berubah. Hari ini adalah seperti kemarin. Dan esok kurang lebih akan begitu pula. Semuanya selalu sama.

Best Days

2011-11-04T20:23:00.002+07:00

That feeling of knowing you're less interesting than the others. You're scouring for bits and highlights of your life to throw into him and he's still more interested in what the others have to say. "They're boring! They think they're funny, you think they're funny, but you just haven't seen me with my routines!" you're dying to tell him. You are a star in your sister's and best friend's eyes. You have these phrases and gestures, released once you are in the zone, only when you are relaxed and confident. Things could come pouring out; funny, funny things. And you don't even try. It's just like the way he dresses. The checkered shirt with an old T-shirt and ankle boots threw you off guard. He doesn't try and you know your legs are melting at the sight of him.

And so. Here's to another bland, inane lament of an adult. Stupid fuckery.

laju

2011-11-01T18:14:00.005+07:00

- saya suka males denger orang name-dropping, dan kadang lupa bahwa bapak saya sepertinya tidak (pernah) bisa dimasukkan dalam kategori orang-orang itu. contohnya, beberapa hari lalu adik saya nonton film 'sang penari' (yang diangkat dari novel 'ronggeng dukuh paruk' karya ahmad tohari), kira-kira seminggu setelah bapak saya nonton preview-nya. mereka lalu bicara soal film itu, dan saya kadang dengar kadang nggak, karena sembari makan sate kulit satay house. adik saya sempat tanya, "apa ahmad tohari puas atau senang dengan filmnya ya?" ehh, bisa-bisanya si doi (alias bapak saya) jawab pertanyaan itu, "minggu lalu habis nonton bapak langsung telepon, dia senang kok." buset deh. saya otomatis langsung memutar-mutar mata ke arah adik, mengisyaratkan, "oke dehhh. yang kenal sama ahmad tohari." ealah lalu ternyata masih ada lanjutannya. "dia ngajak bapak bicara di diskusi film itu, di purwokerto." saya ngeliatin bapak sambil menelan ludah. sungguh saya kadang lupa bahwa pekerjaannya (dulu) memungkinkan dia kenal baik dengan beberapa orang beken (dan terutama: keren), dan sampai sekarang saya masih dibuat melongo akan hal itu.

- tahukah kamu bahwa satu ekor ayam goreng suharti sekarang dijual seharga rp 82.500?

- rasanya sedih saat ditinggal teman, atau saat sadar bahwa ternyata saya tidak sebegitu dibutuhkannya oleh teman. belakangan ini kejadian beberapa kali pada saya. dan.... yeah, it sucks. saya nggak akan bohong tentang itu. tapi self-pity sangat tidak menarik, bukan? juga buang-buang waktu dan energi. yang mestinya bisa digunakan untuk menabung demi beli satu ekor ayam goreng seharga rp 82.500. maka saya benah-benah diri, siapa tahu saya buat salah. saya juga aktif 'menggapai' mereka. tapi kok ya tidak ada jawaban. oke, mungkin memang ada waktunya untuk renggang. tapi yang lebih memukul adalah ketika saya sadar bahwa saat mereka pergi, saya ternyata tak terlalu merindukan mereka. tentu tidak dengan segera. tentu di saat-saat awal saya kehilangan. saya pernah mencari-cari topik pembicaraan beberapa jam sebelum bertemu, hanya dengan harapan saya bisa bercakap dengannya pada hari itu, seperti kemarin-kemarin. dan ya, kami bercakap-cakap. tapi tetap rasanya jauh. dan lain. dan oh bukankah meratap-ratap itu so 2004? alah bisa karena biasa, saya jadi lebih sering sendiri. saya jadi terlatih tidak membutuhkan teman-teman yang tadinya ada.

- apakah saya masih sedih dibuatnya? kadang, ya. tapi ya udahlah yaaa. adapt or die, kata salah satu album everything but the girl.

- beberapa foto selama di saigon:

semusim

2011-10-15T01:26:00.000+07:00

- selama tiga minggu terakhir jarang tidur di bawah pukul 1, dengan alasan.......bertarung di ebay. barang-barang yang diinginkan hampir selalu selesai waktu bidding saat dini hari. entah obsesif, entah kebiasaan, jadilah sekarang jam tubuh berubah dengan sendirinya (seperti sekarang, terang benderang saat pukul 1 malam). walau tidak begitu halnya dengan jam bangun pagi. tentu saja efeknya terasa, alias sering ngantuk di siang dan sore hari. kalau sudah begitu, obatnya adalah.......buka ebay lagi.

- memasuki hari keempat (kembali) kerasukan soundtrack 'badai pasti berlalu'. pertama dengar 'merpati putih' sepertinya saat sma, dan bingung kenapa ada bisa lagu seindah sekaligus sesedih itu. sekarang dapat versi yang kualitas suaranya agak jernih, dan setiap hari seperti ada dorongan untuk hanya mendengar lagu-lagu itu lagi. saya suka 'matahari' (oh, betapa saya suka 'matahari') dan 'semusim' (oh, siapa yang hatinya tak teriris saat dengar bagian refrainnya?).

- rasanya berlian atau chrisye bisa saja menyanyikan lagu-lagu 'badai pasti berlalu' dalam bahasa portugis atau batak, dan saya akan tetap jatuh hati tanpa pernah tahu arti liriknya. sebagus itu melodi dan lagunya.

- bapak saya sering lebih tertarik mendengar pendapat orang lain dibanding pendapat saya. saat itu habis nonton film 'lovely man', dan dia sibuk menangguk pendapat-pendapat dari anak-anak muda di sekitarnya. saya sempat omong dua patah kata tapi lalu berhenti ketika ngeh dia tidak melihat ke arah saya, malah bertanya ke anak muda di sebelahnya. lalu mereka berdiskusi di depan mata saya. bapak bicara dengan menggebu-gebu, sambil bicara cukup kencang, tangannya membuat gestur-gestur agak heboh ('saya orang yang paling gampang nangis, tapi gak ada yang menggedor perasaan saya tadi!!'). oke deh, pak.

- btw, makasih lho, pak, sudah mewariskan gen air matamu pada saya.

- dan hei, dia benar. saya juga orang yang sangat gampang nangis, tapi film itu tidak membuat saya tersentuh.

- saya tidak suka bahwa ada faktor-faktor di luar kuasa saya, yang tidak bisa saya ubah, yang membuat saya kalah. jadi jangankan bersaing, mau gimana juga saya sudah kalah duluan. dan itu rasa yang sangat nggak enak. nggak bisa apa-apa dan mencoba lupa ada orang lain yang dapat tanpa harus berusaha, di saat saya sudah setengah mati berjuang. lalu itu semua untuk sia-sia. ikhlas? mungkin cuma ada di novel-novel. saya masih nggak nemu caranya.

scar tissue

2011-10-11T08:06:00.004+07:00

dude. like, last night i dreamt i came to your film set. i didn't even know i walked into yours till i saw you. and dude. get this. you had a ponytail. your hair was long enough you actually wore a ponytail. dude. i mean, i'm your friend and all (oh but am i?), but can i say that long hair is certainly not your strongest suit? come on. okay, i know it was a dream. but still, i was, like, pretty traumatic when i woke up. and dude, the night before, i dreamt i was suddenly in japan. sweet, right? i felt so happy i wanted to scream out loud, gawd, i was finally back in japan. in the dream, i was only there for a day though. it blows, right? like, totally. but i felt i had to make the most of it. and i remember i was walking really fast, probably looking for the next record store, when i thought to myself, 'whoa, i gotta tell the dude that i'm here. how can i not tell him?' and dude, that, like, blows. cause even in dreams, i still want to tell you things. and i was, like, what's the deal here? am i just gonna be this way till i'm old and wobbly? but hopefully i'd still be wicked then. right, dude? cause i know you'd still be wicked. and we could still be talking about music and stuff. like, i would totally beat you in the collection, cause i'm, like, kicking ass right now. i bid and buy like a crazy ass person. and we could, like, mock each other's collection, cause you wouldn't have what i have. i dunno. like, maybe. just maybe, dude.

on your own

2011-10-10T17:57:00.005+07:00

dude. like, i just won this item on ebay. i was bidding and my heart was racing, and yesss, i finally won. but dude, i totally forgot that on the next tab, i was supposed to bid on another item. from the same band. and i totally lost, dude. the item went on unbid, when it could have been mine. fuckery. it was a seven inch white vinyl, dude. (i won the seven inch red vinyl, though. they were both singles.) and not just that. dude, today i got the book i've been looking for. i spent years waiting for that book, just for someone willing to ship it to indonesia, and finally someone did. the book was, like, fat of history and stories. i have a feeling i won't be able to stop reading it once i start. i don't know if you have it or not. but you could always borrow it. i won't mind, dude. not at all. even if it would take you months to return it to me. i still wouldn't mind. but dude, that would acquire you to talk to me, wouldn't it? we would need to converse for this arrangement. and dude, i have no idea when that would happen, or even if it could happen at all. most of the times i wish i could pick up the phone and tell you about all this stuff. all these books and shirts and cds and records. but then what? to get nothing in response? again? well. okay then. there are some things i need to bid some more. wish me luck, dude?

here i go

2011-10-08T08:25:00.004+07:00

don't you, like, oh i don't know, in one second of your day, y'know, in just a flash, nothing big, nothing stretchy, three winks tops, that perhaps, just perhaps, you feel like talking to me? like, you want to share bits of everything? from the silliest things to something profound? but silly things are the best, right? and the sillier it gets, the more you'd want to share? and it's not just wanting, but you feel like your day would not be right, like it would even fail if you didn't share it with me? is there any chance you feel that way? no?

true stories

2011-10-07T19:00:00.001+07:00

i am quite okay with the bracelets. i concur with the holey faded jeans. i adhere to the endless band t-shirts. i agree with the (perfectly worn-out) brogue. and the vans. i feel inclined to the choice of spectacles. i am won over by the taste in film, music, and books. i honor the wit in our conversations. i am impressed by the singing voice; effortless and delicate. but let me tell you one thing. all those attributes may be gone, but i would still be possessed. i could close my eyes, be covered from all the coolness emanating from him, and would still be groggy whenever he passes by. i could only stand a few seconds, and then i have no defense. my knees betray me, my eyes automatically close and my nose would breathe in devotedly; amorously, even. i am murdered by one thing. his smell. his wonderful, subtle, sublime smell. it's definitely not cologne or perfume. not even aftershave lotion. is it soap? or his deodorant? or it could be the worst thing ever. it could be his bodily smell. all day long he would smell that heavenly without any help from the body care section. and all day long i would be grabbing anything sturdy nearby. while closing my eyes and breathe in that wonderful, wonderful smell of his.

you are my special angel

2011-10-03T17:21:00.001+07:00

been watching elvis presley nonstop on youtube. i cried and then i cried some more. maybe i need to see a doctor for these waterworks parading as my eyes. i couldn't stop listening to this during my college days. and i relentlessly watched this today. then letting out a big, big sigh. there's something in his voice that makes me want to just be still. beside his (very) good looks, i admire him more and more each time i find any live footage of him. they all show why he deserves the nickname of king. that voice; that deep, strong, confident voice. the one that could deliver anguish and heartache like no other. and there's always something different in each performance. for instance, this, which is different from what i have in a form of recording. both show him as a great, great performer.

and you. dear you. i have jillion of stories to tell you, of things to share. like today, when i thought things couldn't get any slower, i received a link i know you'd love as well. but the link joined the rest of the things in my head. the untold. because if you don't care, why should i? right?

today

2011-10-02T04:09:00.000+07:00

sometimes you just keep on going though you don't know what for.

touch me in the morning

2011-10-01T21:33:00.004+07:00

so i accidentally found this. and coincidentally, the album's title is one of my favorite songs in history. i can't believe my father bought and used to listen to this. 'touch me in the morning' is.....one of those songs i belt out so loudly whenever i'm driving alone. the cliched stuff of tears streaming down your face while singing 'didn't we run away and hope that time wouldn't try to find us' or how you're choked by your own tears that you couldn't sing along. yes, that stuff is what happens with me and 'touch me in the morning'.

i first knew the song from a tape i bought back in high school. i liked how i came to the song on my own, and fell in love with it just because. it never left my days. i had it on tape, on cd, and then in ipod. i cried, of course, when i saw this song being performed live by diana ross herself. the live version was always more upbeat, and she made it jazzy back in jakarta, early 2008. i wanted to die there and then. other journalists were watching her deadpan while i bit my lip with every song. during my outbreak, one even had the nerve to ask, 'what year were you born??' he looked at me with a question mark all over his face, as if there's a shared wisdom that people our age didn't listen to diana ross. i refused to attend to this moronic matter and continued to sing and dance my heart out. yes. i was the only one in the media pit to stand and sing along to the songs. the stage and i were almost 500 meters apart. but it was one of those nights too enchanting to forget. she was right there, singing 'touch me in the morning', and my chest just exploded, right there and then.

perish

2011-09-29T16:59:00.003+07:00

i have finished watching lilja 4-ever more than an hour ago. and i am still fucking depressed. watched it solely with the help of a friend's hard disk. now i am sipping mango juice. depression intact. so i copied last year at marienbad for tonight's menu. have a go while you're at it, right?

i would like to have a talk of moodysson or how the following line left me breathless: "sing isih mung kasetian, pandonga lan katresnan." if i could.

Regale

2011-09-28T17:30:00.007+07:00

Millefeuille of smoked salmon rilette, horseradish scented watercress coulis, fields greens three caviar emulsion

She-crab soup with sweet roasted pepper and tomato twisted garlic stick

Prime angus beef tenderloin in herbs crust with grain mustard reduction, black cod poached in spicy jus "ricard", fennel barigoule, ratte potato tourne, vegetable jardiniere

Varlhona chocolate tart and mango cremeux, raspberry licorice and sherbet

All at The Cafe, Hotel Mulia. I was fortunate enough to be invited to a lunch meeting, and they concocted a special menu for us. The best impression was from the black cod. I needed not to chew and the white meat just slid right into my welcoming throat. The millefeuille was not bad either, thanks to the blissful menage a trois of smoked salmon, seaweed and rilette.

Meanwhile, a few nights before the lunch, I dined at De Luca, Plaza Senayan, for a small farewell shindig and here were the pictures of the victims.

Spaghetti alle Vongole Bianco: clam, garlic and white wine. Highly recommended.

Grandma style potato Gnocchi with gorgonzola cream sauce. Laughable portion! Very good gorgonzola nonetheless.

Farfalle with beef bacon and mushroom.

Marinara pizza. The anchovy was so good.

Sparkling fruity drink (mango). This baby was exceptional.

And now on to today's lunch, at Dijan's, Jl. Kemang Selatan.

Omelette with cheese and mushroom

Fettucine carbonara

Poffertjes

Bitterballen

Dijan's has been one of my favorites over the years. It's very close to my office, it's almost always quiet and I often come with a colleague during teatime just to eat the pancakes and wind down from our hectic schedules of downloading games from Big Fish, online shopping and incessant browsing. Come to Dijan's for the bitterballen, the poffertjes, and the pancakes. The main courses are always somewhat a letdown. So go for the pancakes, or panekuk as they are called here. They are quite simply scrumptious and tasty.

Cheese and banana pancake with syrup

That baby is the reason why I come again and again to Dijan's. It is flawless.

ps. I know I take crappy pictures. Forgive?

merriment

2011-09-25T13:29:00.003+07:00

i wonder how it feels to walk into one of these stores. my only experience in that department involved a much smaller shop and very limited time. i remember i had to pass by some rare singles because i was much too busy looking for something else for someone else. the shopkeeper then played chicago because a customer asked for it. the shopkeeper was, i strongly suspected, a character from a film; all his unkempt hair was white, glasses, tucked-in shirt into trousers, mid 50's, who talked of chicago as effortlessly as he talked of slowdive. yeah, those days. but i can't afford being nostalgic. some has accused me as sinful for remembering. so, okay... yay for tomorrow! glory days ahead! i simply can't contain this overflowing happiness! and so on and so forth.

on your own

2011-09-24T23:02:00.000+07:00

lesson of the evening: don't go to ebay and amazon to reduce anger
total damage: undisclosed
items purchased: two rare cd's (one even comes with the 2003 magazine!) and two books (one is supposedly rare or was previously unavailable but i thank amazon which for some time now has that MAGICAL 'fulfilled by amazon' button for those annoying sellers who refuse to ship their items to indonesia so can i hear a hurray?!)
interesting fact: all four items have one thing in common. which goes by the name of blur.
final verdict: destructive mood slowly went away with two es lilin's (avocado and strawberry). then the devil's hand (not mine) opened up ebay and amazon websites. made purchases. anger was reduced up to 70 percent. reminded of the friend who went awol again after what's said and done (words are that cheap to you?). anger rose up. bid on ebay. again. played typeracer. scored 104 wpm. not my best but so be it. life isn't always about what you want.

thank you

2011-09-22T07:27:00.003+07:00

nothing says assurance better than one's silence after your plea of help.

true romance

2011-09-21T13:05:00.006+07:00

yes, i feel the need to dedicate one whole post, unperturbed by any other name, for a restaurant i have fallen head over heels in love with. the name is ootoya, and the love has grown and grown over the years. each visit to ootoya makes me a more devoted person, each bite was and will be savored in a state of tranquility. i may be losing my sanity but when i eat in ootoya, it comes down to just me and the food. my second to last visit to ootoya was a solo trip, and it made me reach a higher appreciation of every nibble, of each taste. they boast themselves as the authentic home cooked japanese food, and for me, it cannot be more accurate than that.

let's start with the green tea. when i first tasted it, i immediately understood why some people proclaimed it as the best green tea in jakarta. with one sip, i hastily joined them. with one sip, i understand that i need to search no more. it tasted very raw, left a longing mark in my throat for more.

korroke, or croquette. sadly, though it is quite good (a generous amount of minced meat and zingy sauce) i have to say that it's not the best i've tasted. korroke at taichan offers a creamier and more savory taste.

fried chicken with negi sauce and potato salad. everything felt fresh, the flour was perfectly light and the sauce was divine. i even ate the whole green thingy thanks to the negi sauce.

torikurozu or fried chicken with sweet and sour sauce. it's become one of my conquests to try anything sweet and sour whenever possible. and this one......oh, this one just took it to another level. the sourness is sharp, but then your tongue would be drenched in a kind of sweetness that forced anyone (i.e. me) to close one's eyes. the subtlety is one you'd find in banana yoshimoto's lines. and again, the flour is so perfectly light and the chicken is luscious, up the point of lusty. the chicken comes with eggplant, potato, carrot, and lotus root.

below are dishes my family ordered (and which i annoyingly photographed the minute it arrived on the table). i only managed to get a few bites out of each dish under their watchful eyes. you'd think a family would happily share everything.

grilled beef with rice. awesome sauce, juicy beef.

smoked salmon set (rice, miso soup, salad, etc). awesome salmon.

tuna on rice with cold soba. awesome tuna, awesome soba. very awesome soba.

oyakojyu or grilled chicken and egg on rice. not too sweet as expected, awesome nonetheless. cool lacquered box.

matcha mousse. comes with ogura, mochi, vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. i vividly remember that their matcha ice cream was BEYOND AWESOMENESS and so i was somewhat experimenting with this mousse. it was thick and the subtlety was still there, but i had to say i enjoyed the ice cream more. the mochi, though, got huge points for being awesome. they may be chewy as hell but the reward was well worth it. a hint of nut and sticky rice for a healthy dose of loving from moi. oh, please try the coffee ice cream as well. i dedicated one minute full of imaginary fierce dance moves for it.

other than all the awesomeness above, ootoya also offers free refill of ocha and rice. say what? yes, free refill of rice. they serve a bit of sushi and no pork is to be found anywhere on the menu. lunch on sundays would require reservations.

disclaimer: i did not eat two portions of fried chicken in one visit. i am after all, from time to time, still a lady. a lady who ate one half of korroke, unagi sushi, fried chicken with sweet and sour sauce, bits of coffee ice cream, and matcha mousse; yes. a lady nonetheless.

trippy tuesday

2011-09-20T17:41:00.003+07:00

this month's work was somewhat done an hour ago, so i managed to read the saved tabs from the morning. i was in awe and got nostalgic seeing this, my heart broke when i saw this, and i finally cried when i saw this. the latter was initiated by amy poehler, i love (LOVE) every actress who went up on that stage, and i guess i was just in a weird hormonal state though i do cry quite easily. at first the tears came from me laughing so hard at the eager face of miss poehler, but then it just got my female heart and seeing all those actresses walked up and then kate winslet stood up to applaud them and oh how i love kate winslet and there was also a sight of jon stewart and i want to die everytime i see jon stewart and so i guess the tears were a combination of many things. and as i am typing this, i am lovingly caressing jon stewart's face on the cover of rolling stone with my eyes. he can be on my daily show anytime.

keep

2011-09-19T18:49:00.000+07:00

"keep taking the pills
keep reading the books
keep looking for signs that somebody loves you."

grant morrison

Mad Girl's Love Song

2011-09-08T14:06:00.000+07:00

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

Sylvia Plath

ps. The title. Isn't it just oh so fitting for this blog?

kompleks k

2011-09-06T21:20:00.000+07:00

sepanjang libur lebaran tahunini, aku hampir tidak keluar rumah alias pergi-pergi. selama sembilan harilibur, aku hanya pergi keluar dua kali. yang pertama, makan siang dengan bapakdan adik di gading serpong (bapak masih saja senang berburu makanan ditempat-tempat nan jauh, dan aku juga selalu senang karena bisa menyetir lama-lama) danyang kedua, ke salon di bintaro karena sudah jadwalnya creambath (punya rambutyang gak ada bedanya dengan sapu ijuk akan membuatmu rajin creambath). jadipraktis aku menghabiskan waktu di rumah saja, termasuk sore hari di rumah yangjarang aku rasakan. kompleks k tempat aku tinggal terdiri dari sekitar 19rumah. kalau memutari sekali saja bisa dilakukan dalam waktu kurang dari lima menit, dan itu sudahdengan jalan santai. sebelum ada kompleks k, daerah di luar itu adalahpemukiman warga betawi. yang paling dituakan bernama pak tirih, hinggakini masih bekerja sebagai pengumpul sampah. semua anaknya tinggal bersamabeliau sampai sekarang. ada satu orang yang bernama idup. iya, 'idup'. bisabayangkan berita kematian dia suatu saat nanti? "telah meninggal: idupbinti tirih." lho, idup tapi mati? dan seterusnya...

anak pak tirih sepertinya ada lebih dari lima.wajahnya sudah kukenal dari saat aku sd, dan sampai sekarang ada satu orangyang kerjanya tak berubah, duduk-duduk saja di sekitar rumahnya. ada satu orangyang sudah meninggal. aku lupa namanya siapa, tapi dia adalah yang palingtampan dari semua. kulitnya putih bersih, wajahnya berbentuk kotak denganbola mata coklat muda. beberapa tahun terakhir hidupnya, dia seperti mengalamigangguan jiwa. dia sering jalan-jalan di sekitar rumahnya dengan hanya pakaicelana pendek jeans selutut, dengan mata kosong atau bergumam pada dirinyasendiri. aku pernah melewatinya, dan tiba-tiba dia membanting-banting batu besar kejalanan hingga batu itu pecah berkeping-keping. dia tidak pernah membahayakanorang lain, tapi memandang matanya yang kosong selalu membuatku tak berdaya.tiap keluar rumah, aku selalu melewati lingkungan rumah pak tirih. jalan kakiberangkat dan pulang kantor, menuju dan dari tempat menunggu angkot, aku akanselalu melewati keluarga itu. mereka terbiasa menghabiskan waktu di jalan.lebih sering ngobrol ngalor-ngidul, tertawa-tawa. kalau aku lewat, ya palinghanya bersapa sekenanya. "yuk..." kataku sambil senyum. "yuk!berangkat?" kata mereka balik. atau aku senyum sambil mengangguk danmereka membalasnya dengan, "pulang?". semua selalu sambil tertawalebar.

selain itu, setiap pagi dan sore minggu lalu aku selalu ajak anjing jalan-jalan. setiap pagi dan sore itu aku selalu disapa oleh bapak tetangga kami,namanya pak made. sapaannya SELALU sama, "rajin sekali mbak ini, pagi soreajak jalan..." dari menjawab sopan, "iya, pak", sekarang akuhanya senyum ke arah dia. pak made punya dua orang anak (dulu aku sering maindengan yang bungsu, laki-laki tapi kemayu), yang sekarang semuanya tinggal diluar negeri. jadi pak made kemudian tinggal di rumahnya bersama istrinya. tapimulai tahun lalu, istrinya yang anggota dpr kena kasus korupsi, danditahan. setelah itu, pak made tinggal sendirian di rumahnya. kadang kalaumelihat aku, dia sengaja menghampiri, padahal jaraknya lumayan jauh. setelahjauh-jauh jalan, sapaannya ya itu lagi itu lagi, "rajin sekali mbak ini,pagi sore ajak jalan....." wajahnya selalu sumringah, matanyabersinar-sinar, seperti ingin agar percakapan kami bisa lebih panjang. dia jugasering keluar dengan bawa payung, dan pulang dengan tentengan tambahan yaitukantong indomaret. jalannya selalu gagah, bibirnya tertarik tegas sehinggamembentuk senyum tipis. tapi yang kulihat adalah pak made yang kesepian. kadangsaking mirisnya aku ingin ajak dia ngobrol, tapi juga selalu teringat bahwa diapernah bilang ke tetangga kami (ibu-ibu usia 60-an), "ibu wangi sekali, sayasuka." aku pun mengurungkan niat ngobrol.

satu hal yang juga jadi pemandangan tetap setiap sore di kompleksku adalahseorang bapak berkeliling naik sepeda sambil membonceng anaknya. sang bapak,pembantu tetanggaku, mungkin usia 40-an dan anaknya yang belum lagi 10 tahun.mereka bisa berkeliling barang empat sampai lima kali mengitari kompleks. si anakselalu memeluk pinggang bapaknya dengan erat, duduk terlalu dekat ke depan danwajahnya agak terangkat. sambil menggenjot dengan pelan setiap lewat depanrumahku (jalan di situ agak menanjak), kalau aku lagi siram-siram kebun,terdengar si bapak bicara, menerangkan ada apa saja di situ. aku pernah dengarsi anak teriak menimpali dengan agak tertahan, 'burung beo! burung beo!"dan aku tidak tahu harus senang atau sedih mendengarnya, karena si anak butasejak lahir. tapi setiap sore bapak dan anak itu akan selalu bisakau temui di kompleksku, berkeliling di atas sepeda jelek, dua wajah merekamenembus angin dan tersenyum sepanjang jalan.

basic math

2011-09-01T23:27:00.006+07:00

what would it take for you to acknowledge me. for me to be in that precious list of yours. why won't you initiate a chat. i surely can't, because you can't tolerate anymore of my foolish deed. and so i step back and wait. unable to initiate anything. how much longer do i have to wait for us to be lost in our world, our chatters. like that one time. because it is by far the greatest episode of my life. incomparable, inimitable. everlong, evermore.

ps. post is inspired by 'me minus you equals blue' by glenn medeiros (currently on repeat). there you go, honesty at its best.

to rollick

2011-08-29T14:21:00.002+07:00

in wellington, it hasn't snowed in august for 30 years. until august 15, 2011.

Like a Prayer

2011-08-24T14:22:00.005+07:00

For such a long time, I have always wanted to make a list of my top 10 album. Yet for such a daunting task, I feel I need to devote an unlimited amount of time to think, ponder, consider, dwell, reflect, and such. And for such a long time, I have always known that one of the surest contender for my list is Like a Prayer by Madonna, and I have a blueprint of words for this album. Yet apparently someone out there states what has long been kept in my mind. Point by point, song by song, it's exactly what I want to say; including the song "Till Death Do Us Part" which has one of the most underrated lyrics. As I continued to read, it felt like reading my own thoughts in someone else's words. It felt magical.

"For the record, my nearly favourite album is Discovery by Daft Punk. But after sending my 15th email in one hour debating the merits between that one and this one to the beleaguered editor of this website (oddly, he stopped replying after my seventh email), I caught my reflection in the mirror, hairbrush in front of mouth, and thought, who am I kidding? I'm a woman in her 30s – of course my favourite album is Like a Prayer. Bog off, era-defining dance music auteurs and crank up Cherish.

Any woman my age who claims to have no emotional connection to Like a Prayer is a liar, not my age and quite possibly not a woman. And unlike too many albums to which women are supposed to have emotional connections, this one isn't mopey, self-indulgent, difficult or weird: Like a Prayer is a joyous reminder of just how fun Madonna really did used to be. I was 10 when this album came out and while it wasn't my first modern pop album (that accolade went to the still relevant … Tiffany), it was the one that shaped what I thought, and still think, pop stars, pop music, music videos, love, sex and the 80s were and should be.

It's hard to think of an album cover more evocative of women in the 80s than Like a Prayer, with its juxtaposition of jewels, religious iconography, a bare tummy and high waisted pale denim jeans. This is the ladies' answer to Bruce Springsteen's Born in the USA, replete with denim crotch-area shot. If I'm being totally honest, I still think this is how cool people dress.

Maybe 1989 was a simpler time. Maybe it was just me that was simpler. But I have never since seen anything on MTV as thrilling as that first viewing of Like a Prayer, and yes, I am including any lame video by Kwik-Fit Madonna, Lady Gaga. The obvious courting of controversy (Like a Prayer), the black and white graphics (Express Yourself), the beach-based larks (Cherish): all the best 80s music video tropes captured on one album's videos. (Many a time did I happily think Cherish was about to start on MTV only to realise, grumpily, that it was the similarly ocean-sprayed but deeply tedious Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.)

Not being Catholic, there was no rebellious appeal in the album to me and my parents apparently had no problem with their Jewish daughter watching – if not quite understanding – a music video that featured a woman named Madonna apparently giving a blow job to a black Jesus. I've spent my entire life too busy dancing around and singing the lyrics (incorrectly) to worry that most of my favourite songs are actually about religion (Like a Prayer, You Got the Love.) I'm simply a very shallow person. I like songs that make me dance and make me happy and it just so happens that a song about blowing Jesus has been making me happy for the last two decades.

Although Like a Prayer was not my first album, Madonna was my first music concert. For my 12th birthday I proved my coolness by going with my babysitter to the Blonde Ambition tour and repeatedly expressed bafflement at why people weren't sitting down as I really would have been able to see better. I saw enough. To all parents out there, there is no better way to open your little girl's eyes than packing her off to watch a woman masturbate on stage.

I am always surprised whenever I listen to Like a Prayer how great the songs still sound (which is not something I can say of Tiffany.) Cherish, Express Yourself and Like a Prayer are timelessly euphoric (the key change in Like a Prayer – at 2:38, for the record – still gives me a weird thrill) and still make me sing out loud. Yes, with my headsets on. Yes, on the tube. Yes, to the point that everyone in the carriage moves down to the end that a tramp has been using as a toilet to get away from the tragic woman singing about how, in the midnight hour, I can feel your power.

Keep It Together is amazing, purely for being Madonna's take on Sister Sledge's We Are Family, a concept no one foresaw, and the fact that she later disowned various members of her family gives it, shall we say, an interesting tinge of irony. Pray for Spanish Eyes is, I can say with wisdom attained, excellent singing-in-the-hairbrush fodder as well as being a prime example of Madonna's fondness for pretending to be a tragic historical figure (see also Evita, Wallis Simpson.)

But being a nosey sort and someone who likes songs to have stories, it's the confessional stuff I love most: Oh Father, Promise to Try and, most of all, 'Till Death Do Us Part, about the end of her marriage to Sean Penn, with whom, she has said since, she was deeply in love. The bitterly evocative lyrics ("The bruises they will fade away/ You hit so hard with the things you say/ I will not stay to watch your hate as it grows/ You're not in love with someone else/ You don't even love yourself/ But still, I wish you'd ask me not to go") disprove those who describe her as a cold and blank performer. Even if most of us haven't been married to Penn (thank God), that sentiment – deciding firmly to leave the jerk but wishing dearly he'd ask you not to – is all too universal, and it feels even more extraordinary now to hear Madonna, now untouchably self-controlled, admit to such pain and weakness. But while the song is sad, the music is jaunty, even fun, and about as far away from Joni Mitchell-esque self-pitying noodlings as you can get. This is a break-up song that cheers yet simultaneously consoles. Even Madonna once felt like this. You'll get through it (and hopefully without rebounding with Vanilla Ice.)

The album's one duff point is the duet with Prince, Love Song, which is barely a song, let alone a love one. But even this works in the album's favour because it serves as a reminder of an oft-proven truth: Madonna is always best on her own. This album sums up the best of her: fun to dance to, laughably grandiose, self-revelatory but on her terms.

Unlike many of my friends, I do not have any hangover idolisation of Madonna herself. She personally peaked for me when she humiliated Warren Beatty in In Bed With Madonna. But no matter what she's done to her face, her body and the world of cinema since, she will always be the woman who introduced me to MTV, pale denim and masturbation. And for that, I thank her."

Hadley Freeman

ps. Well, I didn't listen to Tiffany, I never had the opportunity to see Madonna live in concert, I am a Catholic (though the rebellion concept was here and there for me), and I was still crazy about Madonna for Ray of Light. But I felt the same for Like a Prayer. I once cleaned my room while listening to that album, and I ended up just dancing and singing "Express Yourself" to my poor hairbrush.

to tweet or not to tweet

2011-08-22T12:31:00.007+07:00

it's been more than two years but i still haven't found the aptitude for twitter. sometimes i feel perhaps i just wasn't made for it. for instance, i'm not one who immediately goes to twitter the second something happens to me, to anyone or anything. i don't have that drive. i don't feel the need to type and broadcast to the world how my bolu keju kicks ass. or how a certain song lyric reminds me of something and so i tweet it and i kinda trick the world into believing that i AM listening to that song and it's not some sad plea for anything. (or in the line of hashtags, it goes like this: #curcol.)

on the other hand, twitter really does bring out some qualities in people. qualities all this time you never knew they had, qualities you wish would stay hidden and concealed, everlong, everafter. for one, i know most people are chatty, and it's only customary that they too get chatty on twitter. some take it rather far, as they moan, whimper and whine about the traffic, the scarcity of parking spots, the dauntless existence of the sun, or the blasting work that requires them to come in on saturdays and sundays. 'saturdays! sundays! we are suffering for our works!!!'

secondly, they meet other chatty people, and then they chat on twitter. for the love of god, their conversations go on and on, they go back and forth, again and again, and when you think that's it, that's it, they have stopped conversing.......there they go again. i really have no problem with smart/funny people whose tweets are pure representations of themselves, and even reading their conversations on twitter only show how funnier they can be. they amuse me so. ALAS, they are not the people who choose to chat on my timeline.

and then there are people with........language or grammatical disadvantages. i cringe, i get antsy, i am agitated, i reach a state of turmoil, and i want to overthrow anything in sight. it's worse when they proclaim to be writers or editors. for me, they are as vile as those whose mandatory duty in life is to remind their followers that they're nerds, geeks, or whatever. missy! you're hardly a bookworm when your books are by lauren weisberger.

i know, i know. don't sweat it. mute them. unfollow them. sign off twitter. but it just so happens that more often than not, i like twitter. i like seeing certain names and reading their witty comments, some with their poetry-like tweets. i am amazed at how some have the ability to make me snort in laughter with just two lines of words. i LOVE getting a shitload of information on twitter. but i'm also being honest when i say that i don't think i'm equipped for twitter. i still find difficulties to put my ideas into 140 characters, so i just take the easy way out and i blog. i guess that's why i'm almost always quiet and i don't blame any follower for leaving me. (i'm wounded, but i'll be fine.)

other than that, i do like giving out links on twitter, though not as often as i would like as i'm not always browsing. finding out exciting pages and websites makes me want to immediately share it to anyone. for me, that is more fitting and effective on twitter, and not on blogs. so, in conclusion, i do like it on twitter. somewhat. like when i have muted around 15-20 people on my timeline. those i can't unfollow, it's out of 'friendship ethics'. again. i know, i know. i'm cupu for lacking the guts to unfollow these friends, but as long as there's the mute function, i embrace twitter as i embrace my plump and juicy bolu keju. (i mentioned bolu keju twice in this post. i can't hide the fact that i miss it.) as in life, you gotta tackle the heinous part and move on, like it or not. (i don't like it, i prefer to be spending my days wrapped up in bed and watching joey potter rolling her eyes for the hundredth time or walking the dogs and be swept up by the cold morning wind and fog and dews on the grass that leave you NO other option but to be melancholic.) but that's how life apparently rolls, and also twitter. i tackle the heinous part, and i rejoice in the wit, information, poetry and just plain ol' amusing humor.

ps. kultwit? live concert tweets? the out of nowhere 20-something tweets on how your mother loses her temper or why your cats are cute? bloody hell. BLOODY HELL.

princes of maine, kings of new england

2011-08-18T22:25:00.003+07:00

so scrumptious. with a pair of nondescript jeans and a t-shirt that looks like it has the same age as you. bracelets, three on the right, two on the left arm. beat up vans. a run-down tote bag. horn-rimmed glasses just because you like it and not because it was once trendy. and how it suits you oh so nice. such passion for music and film. you write and your age (i.e. ego) shows, but that's fine. you've got a long road ahead. oh, succulent, delectable, darling boy,

charmed,
yours truly

big love

2011-08-18T10:59:00.004+07:00

yesterday there was an arisan at my house. my mother made laksa, and these were the bowls for the guests, ready to be drenched with the velvety, prawny red liquid. i know probably all children say this about their mothers in terms of food, but i swear my mother makes the meanest of everything. for me personally, i was happy with lontong, laksa soup, fried shallots and kerupuk bawang. oh, and egg.

haven't baked for so long because the oven was broken. this was cheddar cheese butter cake, all moist and savory, especially if you eat it just as it comes out of the oven, as i often do. warm cakes are definitely one of my top 10 weaknesses. i made this on sunday, and yesterday i made the wholesome traditional bolu keju. i remember two years ago i was in a frantic baking mode. i would come home at 9 or 10 in the evening, and then start baking up to the wee hours of morning. i made marble cake, nutella frosted cupcakes, hot milk sponge cake, chocolate cookies, carrot cakes (very popular among my friends and their families, i actually had orders of them), boston cream pie (it looks so good in pictures, like the one below. but i don't know if i did it wrong or what, it tasted.....ordinary. i was not impressed) and such. you get tired from all the standing, but a good cake afterwards always warms your heart.

for the picture below, those are what's currently inside my bag. when i arrived at the office, i knew the catastrophic mess inside my bag that has lasted for a few days was to be met with rigor. so i tidied up (including aligning my money in wallet starting from the smallest denomination to the largest. you do that too, right?) i do notice that a few of my stuff make me look like i'm 5 years old. little twin stars? for a 30-something woman? really? but i don't care as i cherish it, and i've been collecting little twin stars stuff for long. i guess because they always remind me of the bed sheet i had when i was little. it was actually quite tacky but when you were little, you didn't think of that, did you. you only needed to know that you had companions, and that was that.

the necklaces are also inside the bag. the one on the right, the deer, lost one of its trunks since january, and somehow i like it even more. that you might lose something but you just gotta go on. stumble all you might, cry every night to your sleep, and that is that.

The God of Small Things

2011-08-13T22:29:00.001+07:00

Sate Khas Senayan: Rujak Juhi, Sop Tulang Kambing, Sate Kulit Ayam. Mohon jangan menuduh saya makan ini semua sendiri.

Din Tai Fung: errr, saya kok lupa namanya. Nama sementara: La mian dengan ayam. Enak, segar, gurih. La mian-nya sangat lembut. Selembut pengharapan yang tak terucap.
*senam bola mata*

Ini....adalah....cinta sejati.
Masih di Din Tai Fung, makhluk bernama Golden Lava ini pertama-tama saya remehkan karena saya pikir 'hanya' berisi telur asin, dan "Ada manisnya", begitu kata pelayan. Tanpa berharap apa-apa, saya tiarap di gigitan pertama. Adik dan bapak saya jadi saksi saya berubah histeris dalam hitungan detik. Reaksi saya makan ini berturut-turut adalah: 1. menjerit tertahan, 2. menutup muka dengan menu, 3. memejamkan mata, 4. mengusap air mata di pipi, 5. melotot ke arah bapak dan adik, lalu kembali ke nomor 1 dan terus ulangi.
Sebagai penggemar bakpao, ini adalah salah satu yang saya rasa akan terus terbayang sampai saya mati. Amunisi bakpao keparat ini kurang lebih adalah tekstur bakpao yang lembut dan berisi lelehan telur asin bercampur dengan mentega dan (mungkin) sedikit custard cream.
Saya sekaligus menyesal karena setelah sekian lama, baru saya tertarik mengunjungi Din Tai Fung bertahun-tahun setelah ia buka di Jakarta. Oh ya, saya juga jadi paham kenapa xiao long bao-nya membuat restoran ini jadi salah satu yang terbaik di dunia. Dan, ahem, karena......mmm, terlalu bersemangat makan xiao long bao (isi kepiting dan ayam), jadi lupa foto. Terlalu bersemangat disebabkan oleh rasa xiao long bao yang fenomenal. Enak is an understatement.

Bagel2Bagel: Roast turkey with cranberry sauce bagel. Kadang Tuhan memang menunjukkan keberadaannya dengan begitu nyata, seperti dalam wujud bagel ini. Apalagi waktu itu saya tak usah keluar uang sepeser pun. Semakin religius jadinya. Rasa asam dan manis saus cranberry-nya membuat saya ingin langsung menulis lagu religi. Dan kalau daging bebek itu premiumnya unggas, daging kalkun panggang ini adalah permulaan dan akhir dari segalanya. Alfa dan Omega. Amin.

the wind-up bird chronicle

2011-08-13T10:33:00.003+07:00

they come and go, don't they? busy with themselves, busy with work, busy throwing kisses in the air, busy dining with loved ones, so busy that one simply cannot ponder over one goddamn article when one knows its considerable importance; ah, the joy of busy being busy. trying to keep in touch leads to nowhere. it once did lead to something but soon afterwards it died. so. it comes back to this. again. "and the days went by like paper in the wind. everything changed, then changed again. it's hard to find a friend. it's hard to find a friend."

(words in quotes are tom petty's)

please

2011-08-11T14:15:00.002+07:00

when i've finally thrown in the towel this time, please don't come and act all nice and warm and chatty and charmingly talk for five hours straight that then i simply cannot imagine life without you.

seven days

2011-07-20T12:06:00.003+07:00

"for the last two days, i have left my usual t-shirt + jeans + flats/hi-top converse look. yesterday was layered two long-sleeved shirts and a full skirt with few pleats and lace peeking underneath. today is a long-sleeved shirt under a loose blouse whose backside is a tad longer than the front (almost a train!) with skinny jeans. feet attire both for yesterday and today is flat platform wedges.

i have always loved layering and died when i saw rodarte fall 2010. well, i think i would die if i could just touch any rodarte item. i have forgotten how nice it is to dress nicely. and as shallow as it is, it does give you a warm and slightly confident feeling. daily angkot transportation makes me reluctant to do layering as (unwanted) perspiration always beats everything else."

those two paragraphs were written last week (on thursday), and of course now i'm back to my usual t-shirt and jeans. deadlines and house chores don't give me the privilege to spend enough time in wardrobe section. and i'm currently half pissed all the time. so i stop digesting jokes or cutesy stuff. (cutesy jokes are obviously the worst in this time.)

anyway, how wicked is the people at dictionary.com for producing a title such as 'confusable combinations that are almost cruel'. it's so cheeky, so snickety. there's a daily quiz, even. i admire the dedication.

and in seven days, i am invited to a dinner by one of my favorite bands ever. the manager said, they will cook dinner in one of the member's house and i could just feel my knees disappearing. i'm so nervous i want to throw up every single day. i have a few questions for the interview, yet i'm afraid it will not be enough, or that i'll sound stupid (of course i will). i just know that i will be foolishly starstruck and would have to sit on my hands or something just to stop them from shaking. (i'll probably eat them.) it's also not exactly helping that i'm socially awkward. oh god what does one have to do to be witty in just seven days??

i also heard that they probably won't be the best/witty interviewee, as a colleague once said they were not that articulate. i am almost never in the same page as that colleague but it's always best to be prepared. oh my god, getting what you want is so scary. especially when you stumble now and again through life, and you only hear stories of wonder from other people. these things don't happen to you, and when it does, (for me, it so easily did), it took awhile to digest.

now and again, i feel sick to my stomach. i feel like i haven't learned enough about them, i don't have that much information on them, i am far too stupid to contemplate on their lyrics, and so on and so forth.

OH MY GOD.

kuliah

2011-07-10T09:26:00.004+07:00

di saat pekerjaan menumpuk, biasanya pikiran (saya) bercabang dengan sendirinya. 'tiba-tiba' menemukan sejumlah blog yang harus dilihat saat itu juga. membersihkan keyboard dan layar komputer tidak mungkin ditunda-tunda lagi. beres-beres jadi kegiatan yang sangat menyenangkan. seperti yang terjadi barusan. dan mungkin beberapa jam setelah ini. dan tentu saja, seperti yang sedang terjadi. bukannya kerja, malah nulis di blog. soalnya, saya baru saja menemukan beberapa lembar ujian kuliah dulu. saya bengong baca soal-soalnya, ini soal pertama: 'mengapa critical theory tidak dapat dimasukkan dalam konteks neo-marxisme?' *ambil dagu dari lantai*

total ada delapan pertanyaan, yang kurang lebih berkisar di situ-situ aja. ini ada lagi. 'apa kontribusi postmodernisme terhadap perkembangan ilmu hubungan internasional berkaitan dengan pemikiran genealoginya?' lalu 'bagaimana kritik michel foucault terhadap modernisme berdasarkan pemikiran frederich nietzsche?' ya tuhan. ngomong apa sih nih dosen.

tanpa bermaksud apa-apa (kecuali menyombong), rasanya sih dulu saya bisa jawab pertanyaan-pertanyaan itu. ya iyalah, ada di catatan kuliah. cuma saya jadi ingat masa kuliah, di jurusan yang tak pernah terlintas dalam benak saya selama smp dan sma. saya masuk situ hanya karena saya tak diterima di jurusan pilihan. awal-awal kuliah, mungkin karena masih asyik dengan suasana dan teman-teman baru, saya tak begitu peduli belajar. tapi waktu lihat daftar nilai saya jelek, rasanya seperti ditonjok di perut. saya ingat, mulai semester tiga saya memperbaiki nilai. dan yah hasilnya langsung terlihat. selain terpampang di daftar nilai (yang dengan bangga saya tunjukkan pada orang tua), saya merasakan anggapan teman-teman mulai berubah, mereka banyak bertanya soal kuliah pada saya. wah, 'dituduh' jadi anak pintar nih.

saya terus berusaha mempertahankan nilai baik sampai lulus, walau sebenarnya saya ini pemalas dan suka menunda-nunda. saya 'terpaksa' rajin belajar juga karena saat itu saya dikelilingi teman-teman yang rajin. bayangkan, untuk ujian yang masih seminggu lagi, mereka bisa-bisanya belajar dari hari ini. udah tuker-tukeran catatan. astaga. sementara kalau saya, ujian pukul 8 pagi, saya baru belajar pukul 4. untungnya, walau tidak jadi siswa teladan atau bernilai paling tinggi, tapi daftar nilai saya nggak malu-maluin.

kalau mengingat masa-masa kuliah zaman itu, selalu rasanya pahit campur manis. saya merasa tidak punya teman (yang sama selera/pemikiran), tidak betah, dan saya pernah breakdown karena skripsi (sesederhana karena tidak tahu mau membahas tema apa). selama dua minggu, saya tidak keluar kos sama sekali. saya merasa pikiran saya begitu buntu, saya tidak bisa menentukan saya mau ke mana, dan saya mulai mempertanyakan pilihan-pilihan hidup. tiap hari, saya bangun tidur lalu main game (rollercoaster tycoon) sampai pagi di kamar kakak (kebetulan kami satu kos) sambil dengar amplified heart (everything but the girl) dan the miseducation of lauryn hill (lauryn hill), lalu tidur lagi. saya tidak ingin makan, dan kalau perut saya sudah terlalu sakit, saya memaksa diri makan biskuit jacob's atau marie regal, barang satu atau dua buah. teman-teman menelepon tapi tak pernah saya jawab. kalau dipikir-pikir, emo deh. tapi ya akhirnya saya memberanikan diri pergi kuliah lagi. kalau saya ingat-ingat lagi, itu karena takut nilai saya jadi jelek kalau terlalu lama absen kuliah.

pada akhirnya, saya lulus setelah 4,5 tahun kuliah. awalnya saya malah ingin lulus setelah 4 tahun, karena segitu nggak betahnya di bandung. sampai sekarang, saya masih sentimentil setiap lewat jalan-jalan tertentu di sana. di jalan ciumbuleuit sekarang, saya selalu menemukan diri saya belasan tahun yang lalu, pukul 06.30 berjalan mendaki ke arah kampus, berpikiran bahwa masa depan begitu kaburnya, meraba-raba apa hubungan teori kritis dengan hidup sehari-hari. atau dari kos berjalan turun ke warung gembul (nama warung indomie) dan beli pisang bakar dengan setumpuk keju dan susu kental manis, untuk dimakan sendiri. saya ingin bilang padanya, hidup kurang lebih akan baik-baik saja. saya sebenarnya juga ingin bilang hal yang sama pada saya sendiri untuk sekarang, tapi saya tidak begitu yakin akan itu. masa depan (bagi saya) begitu buram dan menakutkan. tapi orang bijak bilang, jalani saja. jadi, selagi masih ada rencana-rencana (kecil) di hari-hari besok, saya mencoba terus bergerak. apalagi ada hal-hal besar dan menyenangkan bernama keluarga, teman, musik, buku, film, dan banyak lagi. saya berusaha keras untuk selalu mengingat itu.

all to all

2011-07-03T15:33:00.002+07:00

i don't like my forehead. it resembles a small town airport. i think planes could actually land on it. the forehead also leans forward. but i like how the saying goes, the bigger the forehead, the smarter and more patient the person. of course i like it, it's in my favor. plus i once fell flat-faced on the road in front of my house at the age of 9 or 10, and my forehead took it all in. the asphalt, the dirt, the rocks. the wound actually ballooned up for the first day, and then it subsided. for the next week, i fostered a blistering crate on my forehead. i don't like my forehead, but when things get tough, or asphalty, it's always the first one to endure anything.

i don't like my nose. it's little and indifferent. it does not make any mark to my face, it's almost incidentally made, it's just.....sadly there. i partly blame my javanese gene, but then there are javanese people with beautiful noses, well-proportioned and so well-rounded. motherfuckers. i don't like my nose, but it quickly tells me of food whereabouts. i often smell food's aroma before anyone else is aware of them, like when one time, on our way home in an angkot, out of nowhere i smelled soto and i told my sister about it. she dismissed me quickly and judged me as insane. about five seconds later, the angkot was passing by a soto cart. i snorted loudly at her. victory! i don't like my nose, but i thank the nose for bringing me the smell of food and comfort.

i don't like my face. i look at arizone muse and i want to put my head in the oven. i know i'm nowhere near pretty by today's beauty standards. or even yesterday's and tomorrow's. and i know there are tricks and make up and such, but i also know even with those tools i'm never gonna be the prettiest girl. it is what it is. some people, i had to admit, had fallen into deep commas and deliriously called me beautiful. i truly thanked them for that. when you're not pretty, you remember those praises till the day you die. i don't like my face, but it is the face that had come across many challenges and shitty, shitty things.

i don't like my legs. they're practically wooden logs acting up and naming themselves as my legs. i look at daria werbowy's legs and i want someone to just shoot me already. i mean, look at her.

i remember reading this article in vogue. she said her dad had the exact same legs and she thanked him for them. she is also an active outdoorsy person, snowboarding, skateboarding, etc. bunch of crap. i look at mine, at their thick-bodied, tubby state, ending in unfriendly shoe-sized feet. i don't like my legs, but i remember they have carried me to places. they're so strong and they're the reason i could bike for hours or run so fast. (but apparently they're useless in running from heartaches. ha-ha-ha. ahem.) they're so solid i am able to work long hours and i could strive in the industry of my work. i don't like my legs, but they literally have taken me to places and supported me in any kind of conditions. for better or worse, we are with each other.

there are many, many things of myself i hardly like. i haven't even spoken about my hips and stomach. (or breasts.) and i've passed by mostly with the attitude of 'oh well, what'cha gonna do about it anyway'. i'm hardly a girl you'd bother to look at the second time. i don't have the 'privilege' to 'get by' on my looks. (i listened with amazement to stories from my girlfriends, telling me they hardly did any assignment in college because they could just bat their eyelashes and men would line up and do the assignments for them.) i don't have anyone helping me because i'm easy to look at. and please understand that i never wanted and never will want those treatments. i am blessed with my capabilities and i take a solemn oath that i will always work hard for more and put them into good use.

it's just. i often wonder. what is it like to be beautiful. i don't like looking at myself in the mirror, and i don't like having my photographs taken. and oh god please don't tell me that beauty is not everything because i know all the jargons and i have faith in them. it's just. i often wonder. what is it like to be beautiful. that's all.

life, currently

2011-06-26T23:23:00.004+07:00

1. i always bring two bags to the office. one (the main one) is for wallet, ipod, books, etc. the other (a smaller one) is for my lunch box, electronic devices' cables pouch, and make up pouch (though lord knows i don't even wear the slightest make up. a habit i'm trying to change.) currently, i'm sporting a blur: modern life is rubbish tote bag as my main bag, and a dean & deluca bag for the small carrier. if you ever see such a person with that ensemble, and if you want to, say 'hi'. unless, of course, it's someone else who will then look at you questioningly, and i'm deeply sorry for that. anyway, here are my current bags:(my dean & deluca bag is like the one at the right. buying the bag always slipped my mind whenever i was in the country that had them, and suddenly i saw it at a flea market in jakarta, for the very hefty price of rp 5000. joy unbounded.)

2. i have been such a slack for the past weeks, in terms of dressing up. in fact, i dressed down way too often (still do, matter of fact). it's like i wake up one day and i don't really care about what i put on. so, it's almost always t-shirt and jeans, with hi-top converse or some flats. sometimes it's too depressing to look in the mirror, and i can almost hear myself saying, "no wonder he left you."

3. i think it's fine for other people, but i still don't have the heart to retweet compliments i get on twitter or in real life. i do remember retweeting two of my friends' tweets sometime last year, both concerning my baking. i can understand the pride and the joy that someone likes me or my work. but retweeting every compliment you get is.......somewhat sad. and i have many 'sad' people in my timeline.

4. i received an interview request, with 'disturbing' questions. i know it's not an official publication or whatever, but journalists should really refrain from stating their own opinions in the questions. he/she had the nerve to lure me into voicing their own beliefs, such as 'isn't it sad that more people are more akin to see films version than the novels?', or 'what do you think are the wise choices for youngsters (ahem, hipsters) to spend their time with?'. i fail to see the association between youngsters and hipsters. they are both different entities, though yes, one can both be young and a hipster. it's also sad that he/she obviously tried to be witty when he/she very obviously failed to grasp the very thing he/she enquired. and why would i go around telling people how to live their lives? it's very rude. oh, and the questions went on and on. along with the absurdity.

5. for the past few weeks, i have been replacing posting (some entries) in blogs with writing letters. and one day i realized that (hand-) writing always feels natural, because i have been writing in diaries since elementary school. having some pen pals also helped. i have approximately five or six diaries for the time span of 14 years, more or less. my last entry in my last diary was dated in February 20, 2004. i guess then 'diary' found itself in this blog, with the first entry in june 2004.

6. my latest mantra is: 'people change'. i say it under my breath, i say it in my mind, i say it at least 10 times a day. i say it whenever the old you i knew clashed with the new you. because that's the only explanation and it has to suffice. because you once disapproved and bitched about many things yet they are conveniently a part of you now. i don't see you disapproving or bitching about them now. how agreeable you must be for your current partner. great. just great.

7. i'm very sure that new kids on the block's songs are never to be found in' the pitchfork 500' or '1000 songs you have to hear before you die' or something else. but every single time i listen to 'please don't go girl' or 'valentine girl', there's always a funny feeling inside. it's not being sentimental, because as i remember, i was just a regular fan. i didn't even saw them when they performed here. it's something i can't explain. that goes for 'i'll be loving you forever' and 'if you go away' as well. these four songs, i am always in love with.

8. which leads me to naming a few songs i'm most probably shy to admit to liking in front of strangers. but here it goes, to name just a few, i really, really (REALLY) like:

- viva forever (spice girls)
- wishes (nathan morris)
- each time (east 17. somehow i remember mentioning this song in this blog)
- rush rush (paula abdul)
- lost in your eyes (debbie gibson)
- water runs dry (boyz ii men)
- love at first sight (kylie minogue)
- i'll never get over you getting over me (expose)
- hold on (wilson phillips)
- hasta manana (abba)
- choose (color me badd. SO good.)

they're not exactly bad but some would find them as too cheesy or too bland. and this is not even my guilty pleasure list. oh, that list is forever forbidden for the sake of my career/reputation as a music journalist. *coughs* for some people who do know about it though, i.......i.......oh well. *hoists white flag*

Cinta Pertama

2011-06-25T20:18:00.001+07:00

Udara yang kuhirup kali pertama
kini entah di mana
kadang aku bayangkan ia kekasih
yang akan bersedih
bila aku tiada
Sebab ia tahu, baginya kubuka
rahasiaku kali pertama

Aku tak peduli berapa laksa tubuh
Ia masuki sebelum dan sesudahku
Pengalaman pertamaku dengannya selalu kuulang
sampai aku mati dan ia akan sedih seperti yang kubayangkan

Sitok Srengenge

yeah

2011-06-24T15:44:00.003+07:00

so, yeah. i just bought a few books. in one go. i had two vouchers worth of 100 thousand rupiahs, and i had one book in mind. but i was in the bookstore carrying my anger and one book led to the next and the next led to the next. and then there was me paying for all of them at the cashier. i was angry and sad and i felt i could only run to books. they're not exactly new in terms of the release. but that hardly mattered. all i know is that i just want to read them and forget.

ps. i hope no one comes to me and start lecturing me about reading for the sake of reading.
pps. i finished three books in one week (this week). growing old with dogs and books won't feel so bad.

so anyway

2011-06-24T12:32:00.003+07:00

they shouldn't bother me. but they do. your lies. your actions. and bit by bit my questions get their answers, when i never even said them out loud. pieces by pieces the puzzles come together and present a reality i've suspected all along.

and of course it's not for you, it's for someone else, despite your shaky words. or was it because of your shaky words? anyway. i feel like i'm eating glass and the pieces are shattering, cutting the inside of my mouth, leaving trails of blood on my tongue, crushing my teeth, and hurting my throat along the way. anyway.

the bombshells

2011-06-14T10:55:00.003+07:00

how did it feel, to have so many options? to have adoration wherever you turned to? to sort which one to fancy, which to pursue, which just to keep and bring out when it felt like it?

i'm sick to my stomach to realize i've been a fool longer than i realized. of course. it never was about me. it was just you and your endless reasons, and your endless devotees. i'm sick to my stomach to think that i've gone all the way and someone else snatched you away.

"the bombshells of my daily fears explode". they do ever so relentlessly.

penguins in june

2011-06-03T21:28:00.007+07:00

do you still hate people? do you still find it repulsive to be among them? how do you do, anyway? i'm dying to ask you in person. you said we're very alike. and i want to find out if that's still the case. the thing is, you were the first and last place i went to. in any situation. so when you left, i stopped sharing. most of the time, they are too busy with themselves. too busy in their worlds, too busy being in love. but that's not to blame, right? they have each other, and so what? they were ecstatic the whole time. not because i was there, but more because they had more time with each other. i almost felt i had to excuse myself and go alone, giving them a private time.

so. i guess what i'm trying to say is i have somehow become a mute. an experienced recluse. oh i hate how emo this all feels like but in most days, that's what happens. and more or less i blame you for that.

ps. my calendar has pictures of penguins for the month of june. in what country do penguins come out and play in june? why does it have to be very much so? penguins and june? who designed this thing? of all the coincidences, it had to be those two things. fucking stupid episodes. they never seem to stop.

Makanan, Solo, Mei 2011

2011-06-03T19:00:00.008+07:00

(atas: Fai Kie, bawah: Bestik Harjo)
Adakah yang lebih indah daripada dua pemandangan ini? Saat kaupikir bestik dadar lidah sudah cukup menamparmu, datanglah kulit goreng dan lidah goreng. Dan bisa-bisanya ada malaikat yang menurunkan menu seperti kulit goreng mentega atau kulit masak kecap. Tuhan Mahabesar.

Kue leker yang entah mengapa dibentuk seperti itu. Di Jakarta biasanya lurus-lurus belaka. Penjualnya menyebalkan, menguliahi saya soal isinya, bagaimana seharusnya memakan kue leker dan tempat-tempat yang menjualnya di Jakarta. Baru sempat dia bilang dua tempat, sudah saya potong duluan dengan bilang tempat-tempat penjual leker yang saya tahu lalu saya tinggal pergi. Dramatis gitu deh.

Sate kambing buntel Tambaksegaran. Haleluya.

Si kulit goreng epik, Bestik Harjo.

Capcay goreng babi, Fai Kie. Selain daging babi, ikut serta pula ngohiong dan siomay babi. Saat makan ini rasanya seperti diangkat ke surga.

Bestik dadar lidah, Bestik Harjo. Ini pesanan Sasotya, saya pesan bestik lidah. Sebagaimana di Twitter, saya juga akan berpesan sama di sini: Bestik Harjo akan kukenang seumur hidup.

Babi goreng kering, Fai Kie. Kata orang bule: "'Nuff said."

Lambchop dengan saus jamur, Beukenhoff, Museum Ullen Sentalu, Kaliurang. Kentang tumbuknya leleh di mulut, pekat dengan mentega dan keju. Kambingnya didominasi lemak. Jadilah saya makan sambil menangis sesenggukan dalam hati.

Sebenarnya, ada beberapa makanan selain yang di atas (tentu saja!). Tapi kadang karena terlalu dibutakan oleh lapar (atau mungkin rakus. MUNGKIN), jadi lupa dengan tugas dokumentasi. Kami sempat makan juga di restoran legendaris Adem Ayem, bertiga sama-sama pesan nasi gudeg, dan memang sangat memuaskan. Dan susu murni Shi Jack juga membuat saya bahagia, berkat Sumadi. Ini bukan nama seorang laki-laki, tapi akronim dari Susu Manis Dingin. Tante Susi juga tak kalah enaknya. Eh, itu akronim juga, yaitu Susu Sirup Tanpa Telur. Susunya terasa sangat segar dan gurih. Manisnya juga tidak bikin eneg, malah cenderung samar-samar. Dan itu yang bikin saya menyeruput terus.

Sebenar-benarnya lagi, masih banyak tempat makan yang ingin kami kunjungi, tapi waktu kadang tidak bersahabat. Jadi, hargailah sahabatmu selagi ada. Karena kalau sudah tak ada, hati jadi susah. Tidak ada hubungannya. Tapi betul. Paling tidak buat saya.

Solo, Mei 2011

2011-06-03T18:56:00.002+07:00

Stasiun Klaten
O Solo Mio, Jl. Slamet Riyadi, Solo

Kalender di rumah makan sate kambing Tambaksegaran

Barang antik di Pasar Triwindu

Kereta Api Prameks dan Tya

Roti Widoro, Sukoharjo (sudah ada sejak 1922, dan sampai sekarang semuanya dibuat dengan manual)

Museum Ullen Sentalu, Kaliurang, Yogyakarta

Halte di Kampung Batik Laweyan

Dimas Ario

Warung susu murni

Pemandangan dari atas KA Prameks

Hujan buatan di Rumah Turi, Solo (bekas air cucian dibersihkan dan digunakan untuk menyirami tanaman tiap pagi dan sore)

Foto-foto kuno dijual di Pasar Triwindu

Restoran Beukenhoff, Museum Ullen Sentalu

Menuju Kraton Surakarta

Ini beberapa hal yang saya lihat saat plesir ke Solo, akhir bulan lalu (sengaja tidak menaruh semua foto karena sepertinya itu lebih bisa dilakukan kalau di Multiply). Saat menulis ini, tak pernah berpikir bahwa itu jadi pemicu dua teman baik (Sasotya & Dimas Ario) dan saya untuk membuatnya jadi kenyataan. Sebelum berangkat, saya (yang moody ini) merasa biasa-biasa saja, bahkan agak malas untuk benar-benar pergi. Sengaja tidak bilang itu ke siapa-siapa, karena merasa tidak tahu berterima kasih, dan tahu betul bahwa bisa pergi liburan adalah kemewahan. Dan saya pernah merasakan hal serupa (ogah-ogahan pergi) saat awal tahun lalu akan liburan panjang, yang ternyata berakhir dengan saya ingin tinggal saja di negara itu seumur hidup. Ndilalah, hal yang sama juga terjadi dengan saya dan Solo. Dari hampir tiga hari penuh di sana bersama teman-teman, rasanya hanya di saat tidurlah (yang tiap malamnya juga hanya tiga atau empat jam) kami tidak bicara atau tertawa terpingkal-pingkal. Kami memang sepertinya melewatkan banyak tempat wisata maupun tempat makan di Solo, tapi buat saya itu jadi pemacu menabung untuk pergi ke sana lagi. Oh ya, kami menginap di Rumah Turi yang membuat saya jatuh hati sekaligus kagum dengan konsepnya (lihat-lihat situsnya ya). Di hari terakhir, dalam perjalanan pulang ke Solo dari Yogyakarta dengan KA Prameks, saya mulai sentimentil. Lalu dengan sok puitis saya bilang kepada dua teman perjalanan, "Terima kasih untuk tiga hari yang terlalu indah." Tapi sebenarnya saya memang bersungguh-sungguh.

come what may

2011-05-24T08:19:00.003+07:00

i won't justify anything. to make them understand would require being me, and having those moments, and knowing that the road just does not end. it's impossible for them to see. and already pointless from the start. so here i am. not asking for anything, not a demand in sight. i have stopped trying because it's not working. i still laugh and work. sometimes i still want to smash things up. but i know in the end it wouldn't change anything. even after biking for two hours, there's still that creeping feeling of woe. now it's just up to me who's going to win the daily fight. it's really me against the world.

Date A Girl Who Reads

2011-05-21T22:16:00.001+07:00

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes."

Rosemarie Urquico

koi

2011-04-25T22:32:00.005+07:00

paradise iced tea (mango, pineapple and something else) and strawberry mojito

chinese duck wrap

garlic frog legs

gnocchi with braised beef and pesto

white russian

three different kinds of chocolate melt (dark, chocolate and white)

bika ambon brulee

disclaimer: i did NOT eat/drink all of the above. well maybe most of the above. and like an idiot, i forgot to order their krakatao. this calls for a next visit.

the clash

2011-04-20T17:18:00.006+07:00

it's not exactly nice to be left out. to be the unchosen one. you put yourself out there but you're not good enough, you're not pretty enough, you're just not enough.

and on a totally random note: i think it's incredibly rude to not say goodbye in your chats, ym to be exact. sure i know we spend most of our time in the office, where, sadly, we could be easily whisked away from our desks and not being able to converse in a timely manner. and people do many things beside chatting, it's not the most important thing. and this is a virtual world, some etiquette needs different treatment. yada yada yada. i know the drill. i won't be easily annoyed but when someone does that every fucking time he/she chats with me (wandering around to an abyss, i presume, and/or especially leaving an important question unanswered), it's really really rude.

anyway, here are two new friends i made last week:

seafood fried rice with ox sauce, sweet corn with salted egg and prawn with mayonnaise, at fat ya, plaza indonesia extension

wagyu fried rice at stevan meat shop, flavor bliss, bumi serpong damai

feast

2011-04-09T02:01:00.002+07:00

spaghetti bolognese at pasta basta, kemang. so far they only have one menu but i don't mind at all in fact i want to go there in my all waking moment.

the search for sam can cabe garam prompted me and a friend to skip a day of work and go to bandung instead. psst, you didn't hear it from me. we also tried sweet and sour pork, along with crispy sam can. truthfully, i did not expect such a 'modern' eatery when i heard of sam can cabe garam. but the place's interior did not hurt one bit. i spent more than three hours sitting on the wooden chair, talking with my friend. a good friend also came by and we had a laugh or two.

one day my friend told me about this small indian restaurant, hidden in a little alley at pasar baru. it was pricey, and it tasted less 'indian' than i expected, but still good. we had to go upstairs for the restaurant, and it reminded me of walking up to disk union or looking for the shop that had irregular choice. there was a very nice house across the restaurant, and i took a picture of it without the owner's permission. i hope he/she forgives me for this. it's just i like the feel of an old house, moreover with flowers and laundry out unabashedly in the open.

the streets of your town

2011-03-30T01:26:00.000+07:00

your town was pleasant. like always. even when everything's different. even when i went to my (our?) favorite spot, ordering the same menu as i did since 13 years ago (iced mango tea), and up came the memories. i did not order the memories, yet they came before the iced mango tea. i passed by your office while walking to that spot (a one hour challenging walk) and i turned my head. it was serene and inviting. like always. but i knew my invitation got lost in the mail. somehow. up came the memories. like air balloons, they hovered. it was starting to rain. cold wind blew. the birds huddled on a nearby tree. their chirping sounds felt miles away.

travel and be merry

2011-03-21T09:48:00.005+07:00

how can i be so absentminded and not brag about the fact that i've seen beach house live? also, i saw stone temple pilots and suede in two weeks in a row. natural highs are surely one of the best things in life. during beach house's performance, i cried. twice. i was striving to hold back the tears but i had no idea how to do that upon seeing "zebra" and "norway" being performed in front of my eyes. both the atmospheric music and gut-wrenching lyric, not to mention the grand voice of victoria legrand, could be too much for one's heart. my feet were soaked from around 2 pm up to 11 pm thanks to the muddy ground. they came out looking paler than white when i finally took off my shoes.

though i didn't plan it at first, i sort of hope this year will be the year of me seeing new places. i do know where i'll be spending my birthday later, a country i've never set foot in. so, yay for that. well, it is more than seven months away, but one can prepare, no? before that, i am hoping my plan to let the child in me have its way will be consummated. hint: disneyland. i have also grown restless with my trip plan to central java. it's been in the back of my mind since more than two years ago. i do prefer to go by train, but having a road trip also excites the hell out of me. i've been daydreaming about it (for instance, staying in amanjiwo. but with an exorbitant price list, of course it's bullshit for me, so i settle on 'just' having tea and sandwich. my friend saw paul mccartney during his visit there, how about that?), collecting articles and tips on it, looking at maps now and again, memorizing names and places, and so on. editing an article about solo and its mayor ends up with me yearning even more. what the mayor does, it brought me to tears. perhaps it's the effect of having a disappointing government for so long. i would be happy to print or send that article to anyone interested. or you could buy the magazine when it comes out. :)

i am in the middle of a tight deadline. and instead of working, i wrote this. but of course.

the love you save

2011-03-03T11:06:00.005+07:00

i put on a smiley face on twitter and then i retreat to my old self. i thank the higher being for roti sisir pandan and then i read her writing with his name in it. i admire her brilliance and then i feel my heart sink so low i then play games to keep my mind off of it. there's nothing like her writing to emphasize how distant i am from him. and the pain gets physical so i turn to time management games. the more rigorous it is, the better. the faster my finger has to move, the less i think about everything else. the more i fail, the more i am determined to finish the game with the expert score. there are two games which have been my life purpose in these two weeks. and that's fine. people write great novels, die in wars, bake chocolate cakes, struggle with everyday life, and i play games. i feel something shrinking within me since early last year. i lose grip from a lot of things. i buy books and magazines i never read. sometimes memories of me come up. like biking through small alleys in bali. i was with new friends, but the thing about biking is you'd almost always feel the solitude. i can remember wind swooshing by my ears and how i had to carefully maneuver the bike when there were motorcycles coming from the opposite direction. for many fleeting moments, it was so serene i felt like i could bike alone for hours and maybe things would be just fine. i would then forget that he didn't want to talk to me anymore or that he'd forgotten about me. it was an unexpectedly beautiful day for me. moreover because after the bike ride, i had the most wonderful chat with one of my most loved singers. we talked about beach house, ade paloh and swimming elephants. i was also very happy when i visited the zoo in singapore. it's been raining non-stop, including the time i was at the zoo. i wore a big, green raincoat with 'orang utan' written on the back. it sure is not to be worn in indonesia unless i want to be called 'orang utan', but what the hell, i love orang utan's. i saw elephants, a pelican, penguins, a variety of monkeys, lions, and many more. i could not tell you exactly how it felt walking in the rain and seeing animals in their 'natural' habitat. for one thing, it sure was like in a dream-like state. and furthermore, wearing a raincoat made you hear less. you just hear the 'swoosh, swoosh' it makes from you swinging your arm. the rain pounded the ground, the rain passed by your ears. add that to very few visitors in the zoo, and once again i felt solitude. memories come up now and again, you can't choose which ones and you can't tell them to quickly go away. i can, however, choose to think of something else and pretend i do not miss him. there were days when i felt almost nothing when i thought of him. it almost came to the point of vacant. and i felt slightly relieved. maybe afterwards there will be change. but i spoke too soon. for i am feeling hollow once again. i escape but there are only so many books, magazines, serials, and games. i am very aware of how juvenile this is. but i can only pretend for so long. afterwards, it all comes back to point zero.

February

2011-02-16T18:42:00.003+07:00

And February was so long it lasted into March
and found us walking a path alone together
You stopped and pointed and you said, "That's a crocus."
And I said, "What's a crocus?" and you said, "It's a flower."
I tried to remember, but I said, "What's a flower?"
You said, "I still love you."

"February" - Dar Williams

feel

2011-01-28T22:46:00.002+07:00

when people shut you out left and right, what else to do but move on, right? life is sad and terrible because bad, unimaginable things happen over and over again. and 'wise' people say it's only natural, the world contains good and evil. it will always be that way. some also say it's the faith that keeps us hanging on. though we are not so sure what for. say you have managed to beat one particular day, but what's in store for tomorrow? every day is work for me, i tackle happiness and sadness until it's around midnight and i realize it's time to sleep. and i wonder, will tomorrow be the same? will the hole still be there? will i still want to share stories with him? and will i still have to restrain everything inside? and i make myself go to sleep because once i remember, it becomes endless. and when push comes to shove, it's either life or death. and i'm not that curious on finding out about death so soon.

sentimental lady

2011-01-17T17:55:00.003+07:00

so i was driving. it was unlikely, since now i use public transportations to go to the office. and i was feeling so-so, so i encouraged myself to turn on the ipod. good stereo in the car made me go bold even. a bit of shuffling then came 'love that boy' by the innocence mission. i started to sing along soundlessly, when not so long after, this godforsaken angkot passed by from the opposite direction. and oh how it gloriously passed by, with THE name splattered monstrously across the windshield. i stopped singing and i changed the song immediately.

two days later. almost like in the movies, not unlike two clouds parting to give way to the sun, two cars in front of me subsequently passed the big car in front of them (one went right, the other went left), revealing to me the plate with THE initial.

it is not a big deal. well perhaps somewhat big because here i am writing about it. it's because i fucking find them everyday. it's almost like there's a person up there whose task is just to piss me off on a daily basis. but that's a bit big-headed, don't you think? so it's not the thing per se, but it's the mischievous way of things happening, of everyday stuff twirling about, that makes me keep bumping into that one freaking thing. sometimes i can pretend i look the other way and think of something else. and sometimes it just hurts.

far from everything

2011-01-11T19:15:00.001+07:00

i don't write much these days. i don't have the strength to make sad things look beautiful. i also don't have the courage to turn on my ipod. songs kill me right away. and i don't know what kind of sick jokes they're playing now. you know what, you two? mazel tov. and fuck off.

crashing things onto the floor would not do any good, but it sure looks very tempting to me right now. i just would like to be exhausted, so i could sleep and wake up without all this anger.

The Last Days

2010-12-22T17:19:00.004+07:00

We were both very verbal people. Once we were on the elevator talking away, and forgot that we didn’t push the button. The elevator was still on the ground floor for the longest time without us noticing. Finally, the door opened and a lady came in and we noticed what we did. We were just chatting away. Why did we have so much to talk about? Maybe because it was just the two of us. We burned the bridge, and we didn’t have anybody else except each other. John didn’t mind that at all.

We were also very silent people, too. We didn’t have to say anything. Just by looking at each other we knew what the other was thinking. The more the world hated us, the more we became fiercely protective of each other.

I thought of getting him some chocolate and surprise him. I don’t know why I thought that. I didn’t like chocolates at all then, so I wasn’t suffering not eating them. I got some and came home. As I came out of the elevator, I was surprised by John opening the door to the apartment before I rang the bell. “How did you know I was coming back just now?” “Oh, I know when you’re back.”

Did it matter that the whole world hated you if your guy loved you that much? Who cares if you had to live in hell with him? Some couples might be lucky to live in heaven. John and my heaven was in hell. And we loved it. We would not have wanted it any other way.

Yoko Ono
October 2010

warteg

2010-12-02T16:46:00.002+07:00

rasanya malu bahwa setelah sekian lama berkantor di sini, aku baru tahu beberapa tempat makan yang enak dan sangat murah. barusan aku makan sendiri di warung sebelah 'warung' yang terkenal itu. aku pernah makan gado-gado yang dijual di situ, enak sekali. lalu tadi karena sudah sore, aku makan sendiri, dan memang lagi ingin sendiri. lauk sayurnya tidak terlalu banyak, ada tiga warteg di sekitar kantor yang menjual lebih banyak lauk. tapi karena aku tahu warteg si satu itu akan sepi, aku lebih memilihnya. untunglah pilihanku tak salah, karena ayam goreng yang tadi kupesan sangat sangat sangat enak.

setiap makan enak (dan murah) di sekitar kantor, otomatis aku langsung mencatatnya dalam pikiran, siapa tahu kamu datang ke jakarta dan mau makan siang denganku. aku menyimpannya dalam benak. tidak tahu untuk apa.

new moon

2010-12-01T12:47:00.003+07:00

when it's time to rip off or turn over a page of the calendar, it only comes down to one thing: it'll be yet another month of your silence.

percaya

2010-11-23T21:08:00.008+07:00

halo d,

jadi karena aku tahu kamu tak pernah lagi melongok ke sini, atau apa saja yang berhubungan denganku, dan aku masih merasakan dorongan teramat besar untuk ada di hidupmu, satu-satunya jalan yang aku tahu adalah dengan menulis sebanyak-banyaknya di majalah. itu karena aku tahu kamu masih rutin membeli dan membaca majalah dengan teliti. oke, aku tidak tahu persis, tapi setidaknya aku berharap kau masih berlaku seperti itu. (rasanya aneh setiap bicara atau menulis tentang harapan, karena aku tidak percaya lagi akannya.)

sudah lama sekali sejak aku banyak membuat tulisan di majalah. kamu tahu sebabnya. lalu entah kenapa di edisi yang baru aku tertimpa banyak tugas untuk membuat tulisan. itu, entah bagaimana caranya, menjalar pada keinginan untuk terus menulis. hasilnya ialah beberapa tulisan, dan dua atau tiga di antaranya cukup membuatku senang. aku (selalu) masih punya keinginan untuk membahas tulisan-tulisanku denganmu, begitu juga dengan yang ini. keinginan itu sudah tak terlaksana sejak lama, dan aku menelannya. tak ada yang seperti dirimu, dan bukannya aku tak menghargai teman-teman yang kumintai pendapat, tapi...... tak ada yang seperti dirimu. (aku berusaha keras untuk tidak sentimentil, tapi kuharap kau mengerti bahwa ini berarti aku membutuhkan segala masukan dan kritikmu)

lalu hari ini aku mendapati bahwa beberapa tulisanku tidak jadi dimasukkan ke dalam majalah, dan aku tak tahu dari mana asalnya, aku merasa murka. aku benci pada si desainer karena dia semena-mena menepis tulisanku, hanya dengan alasan sudah tak ada tempat. amarahku meluap-luap sampai-sampai aku merasa harus meninggalkan ruangan desain. sesampainya di mejaku, benar saja, si cengeng ini mulai merasakan air mata terbit pelan-pelan. aku menggigit bibir supaya tak usah ada air mata yang turun. aku tak ingin ada orang tahu-tahu datang ke mejaku lalu menangkap aku sedang menangis. aku tak mau repot-repot menjelaskan kenapa aku menangis. terutama karena aku juga tak tahu kenapa aku tiba-tiba menangis. padahal perkara tulisan tidak jadi dimuat karena keterbatasan tempat sering terjadi, dan aku biasa-biasa saja karenanya.

sampai lalu terpikirlah bahwa aku butuh tulisan-tulisan itu tampil di majalah, supaya kau melihatnya. supaya kau bisa baca dan menilainya. supaya kau bisa ngeh bahwa aku mulai kembali menulis (dan semoga tidak cuma untuk edisi ini). aku butuh sesuatu untuk menyampaikan pikiranku padamu, untuk bisa bercakap-cakap denganmu, terserah dengan medium apa. aku butuh bicara denganmu.

sebagian isi tulisan ini sebenarnya akan aku kirimkan lewat email padamu. aku ingin memberitahumu segalanya. keinginan itu tidak pernah pergi. tapi sesungguhnya aku takut. bahwa misalnya belum-belum kau sudah menghapus email itu hanya karena melihat namaku di kolom pengirim, atau bahwa isi email itu akan membuatmu semakin menjauh. HA HA HA. kurang jauh apa lagi ya sekarang ini.

jadi di sini saja aku menulis. aku tidak akan menulis surat dan lalu pergi ke kantor pos. tidak mengantri di loket kilat khusus, supaya ada perangko menempel di amplop dan membuatnya terlihat kuno, lalu dikirim padamu. juga tidak menulis email yang mungkin (bisa juga tidak) membuatmu resah, karena kalau ada orang yang keras kepala, aku seperti orang dengan perasaan yang keras hati. sekadar informasi, aku tidak menginginkannya. aku juga tidak menyiramnya supaya ia tambah subur atau apa, tapi ia tidak pernah hilang.

akhir kata, semoga hidupmu baik dan terus berkembang. aku tidak tahu kabarmu, jadi aku hanya berdoa ini dan itu tentangmu. ini dan itu adalah rahasiaku dengan tuhan. dan ya, aku sedikit banyak masih percaya tuhan. aku tahu kamu sudah tak percaya pada kita, aku dan kamu. dan rasanya memang bodoh untuk berdiri sendiri dan percaya. maka, doaku yang berikutnya adalah semoga itu pun cepat luntur.

salam,
b

Cinta Setengah Mati

2010-11-19T22:54:00.004+07:00

Salah satu hal yang paling sering (dan mudah) dilupakan mungkin adalah bahwa kekerasan terhadap perempuan adalah pelanggaran hak asasi manusia. Kata-kata itu bukan hanya slogan, melainkan sesuatu yang serius. Definisi kekerasan terhadap perempuan menurut Deklarasi Penghapusan Kekerasan Terhadap Perempuan tahun 1994 pasal 1 adalah “setiap tindakan berdasarkan perbedaan jenis kelamin yang berakibat atau mungkin berakibat kesengsaraan atau penderitaan secara fisik, seksual atau psikologis, termasuk ancaman tindakan tertentu, pemaksaan atau perampasan kemerdekaan secara sewenang-wenang, baik yang terjadi di depan umum atau dalam kehidupan pribadi.”

Kesadaran tentang isu perempuan karenanya merupakan keharusan yang tidak mengenal batas jenis kelamin, usia, profesi, dan kelas. Saya dulu tidak tahu bahwa adalah hak seorang perempuan untuk berpakaian menurut kehendaknya. Gaun ketat atau kaos longgar adalah urusannya sendiri. Gaya berpakaian seseorang tidak lalu memberi izin pada siapa saja untuk bisa menunjuk dan menghakimi, “Dia layak diperkosa.”

Saya juga tidak sadar bahwa dengan berkata, “Cewek kok seperti itu sih”, saya ikut melestarikan pandangan yang salah. Stereotipe tentang bagaimana perempuan dan laki-laki seharusnya berlaku adalah hal-hal yang hampir setiap hari kita jumpai dan karenanya seolah menjadi wajar atau boleh untuk diamini atau dilakukan. ‘Keyakinan-keyakinan’ ngawur ini misalnya adalah pengemudi perempuan pasti lelet dan/atau tidak tahu jalan, meja kerja atau kamar perempuan harus bersih dan rapi sempurna sementara kita akan maklum kalau kamar laki-laki seperti kapal pecah, atau anggapan bahwa seorang perempuan baru dianggap utuh jika sudah menikah dan melahirkan.

Saya beruntung pernah mendapatkan penataran maupun pengalaman soal kesadaran gender saat di sekolah dan bekerja. Dari situ, ketidaktahuan saya terkikis sedikit demi sedikit dan saya dibuat paham akan pentingnya menyebarkan pandangan yang wawas gender. Dan mengingat betapa pentingnya isu perempuan (berdasarkan data Komnas Perempuan, angka kekerasan terhadap perempuan dari tahun 2005 hingga tahun 2009 malah meningkat hampir tujuh kali lipat), ketidaktahuan tentangnya tidak boleh dibiarkan. Pengetahuan harus menggeser ketidaktahuan.

Salah satu bentuk kekerasan terhadap perempuan yang bisa jadi belum mendapat perhatian yang cukup adalah yang terjadi dalam masa pacaran. Suasana manis memang identik dengan pacaran namun ini tidak langsung menjamin bahwa kondisi yang aman dan nyaman terjadi. Pola pikir patriarki yang beranak-pinak dalam kehidupan sehari-hari menempatkan perempuan di posisi yang lebih lemah. Pandangan yang kemudian diterima adalah perempuan sudah pada tempatnya menurut pada kehendak laki-laki, dan karenanya dianggap pantas-pantas saja menerima perlakuan yang sewenang-wenang.

Kekerasan fisik, psikis, ekonomi sampai seksual, sekecil dan sedini apapun tetap merupakan kekerasan. Memukul, melontarkan perkataan kasar, memaksa, menutup lingkungan pergaulan, meminjam uang tanpa mengembalikan, memaksa mencium atau melakukan hubungan seksual, itu adalah beberapa tindak kekerasan.

Ini diperburuk dengan kenyataan bahwa beberapa perlakuan tidak disadari (baik oleh pelaku maupun korban) sebagai bentuk-bentuk kekerasan terhadap perempuan, seperti bersiul atau melontarkan godaan kepada seorang perempuan, atau pelecehan seksual yang dibalut sebagai lelucon. Ketidaktahuan dan/atau kondisi takut mengakibatkan enggannya korban untuk melapor pada pihak yang berwenang soal ini, atau pada lingkungan terdekatnya seperti orang tua atau sahabat.

Jika terjadi tindak kekerasan, yang harus dilakukan adalah melapor kepada polisi atau Women Crisis Center (Rumah Aman) yang tersebar di berbagai daerah di Indonesia. Sistem hukum di Indonesia apa boleh buat lebih sering membuat kita pesimis, terlebih dalam hal kekerasan terhadap perempuan. Kesulitan berlapis yang dihadapi korban, seperti minimnya infrastruktur bagi perlindungan korban atau sikap aparat yang tidak simpatik, membuat semakin payahnya jalan korban menuntut keadilan. Namun kita juga tak boleh lupa bahwa ada pihak-pihak yang terus bekerja keras untuk memperbaiki keadaan ini, dan dengan konsisten mengusahakan penghapusan kekerasan terhadap perempuan.

Hal yang juga menambah pelik soal kekerasan dalam pacaran adalah rasa cinta pada pasangan. Untuk sampai hati melaporkan pacar pada pihak berwenang dirasa seperti mencoreng perasaan diri sendiri dan mengingkari harapan. Namun membiarkan kekerasan terjadi adalah mangkir dari hidup yang seharusnya bisa kita tempuh dalam jalan dan sikap berbeda.

Ada beberapa kondisi yang mungkin menyebabkan kita tak bisa berlaku tegas pada pasangan, walau kita sudah merasa tak nyaman, seperti penyiksaan emosional oleh pasangan dengan kondisi psikis yang tidak sehat. Saya punya seorang teman yang menukar perasaannya yang tidak nyaman, tersakiti, atau tidak dihargai dengan suasana hati pasangan yang tenang. Ia terbiasa menegakkan dinding bohong-bohongan supaya kata-kata kasar sang pacar tak bisa menyakiti dirinya. Kalau itu tak berhasil, ia menelan sakit hatinya diam-diam dan berjuang menganggapnya angin lalu, asalkan sang pacar berhenti menjerit dan membenturkan kepalanya sendiri ke dinding.

Beberapa orang bertindak lebih (atau terlalu) jauh dengan ingin menjadi penyembuh. Mereka berusaha keras menyirami pasangan dengan kasih sayang dan sigap dengan kata-kata mutiara a la pembicara pembangkit motivasi. Semua kecuali sang kekasih terabaikan. Cinta seperti membuat mereka tak lagi awas melihat bahwa dalam hal pasangan yang memerlukan bantuan medis atau psikiater, kewajiban untuk menyembuhkan bukan tugas mereka.

Teman saya perlahan layu, tanpa ia sadari. Ia memikul beban dua orang, sementara tak ada yang menopang dirinya. Semakin hari, ia semakin terbiasa menekan perasaannya dan menganggapnya nomor sekian setelah perasaan kekasih. Ia mencinta, tapi itu membuatnya setengah mati.

Kita maklum bahwa masa pacaran diisi dengan berkasih-kasihan. Namun bagi saya yang pertama-tama mutlak dilakukan adalah mengasihi dan menghargai diri sendiri. Sekali saja kita dibuat tidak nyaman oleh pasangan, kita berhak berpendapat dan menentukan sikap. Jika tubuh dan jiwa kita diusik, kita berhak untuk berteriak dan melindungi diri sendiri. Tak ada alasan untuk tidak melaporkan kekasih jika ia melakukan kekerasan, dan juga bukan tugas kita untuk memperbaikinya. Crisis Center menyediakan terapi dan konseling dengan orang-orang yang memiliki kemampuan dan pengalaman.

Cinta sudah selayaknya mengembang, namun bukan supaya kita menyusut. Cinta harus menyusupkan perasaan aman dan nyaman ke dalam hati. Membuat kita membina hubungan yang sehat, setara, dan saling menghargai. Mendorong kita jauh-jauh dari keadaan dan perasaan setengah mati. Cinta mestinya membuat kita ingin hidup seribu tahun lagi.

nb. Tulisan ini dibuat dalam rangka Kampanye 16 Hari Untuk Selamanya yang diadakan oleh Komnas Perempuan (Pundi Perempuan) & YSIK. Kampanye 16 Hari Anti Kekerasan terhadap Perempuan merupakan kampanye internasional untuk mendorong upaya-upaya penghapusan kekerasan terhadap perempuan di seluruh dunia.

hey

2010-11-09T00:06:00.000+07:00

you didn't tell me your forever had an expiry date

Home

2010-11-04T16:19:00.002+07:00

You must have been wondering why I finally decided to get married. You don't seem to care but I know you have that burning question inside. Well, how do I put it? Okay, let me try this: Do you remember when we were kids and being the last ones to get picked up when the school ended?

Do you remember how afraid, worried, and restless we were being kids whose parents forgot one simple, mundane task to pick up their children? You felt you had never asked too much as a child, for you could actually tolerate one or two hour late pick-up, but not two-hour-and-five-minute late pick up. Had you known the way home, surely you would go home by yourself. But you neither knew the way home nor how to get home. And even though you were upset, when your parents finally showed up, you felt so relieved that you completely forgot about your anger. They were there to take you home, that's all that mattered.

That's what the man I married makes me feel. Everytime I see him, he makes me feel as secure as when I finally saw my parents picking me up after everybody at school had already left because they were 2-hour late.

ps. I did not write this beautiful piece. Got it more than three years ago from a dear friend, verypurpleperson.

memo

2010-10-31T16:12:00.002+07:00

in my dictionary, you're the entry for 'happiness'.
and 'always'.

skipping town

2010-10-28T04:41:00.000+07:00

so it goes like this. your initial on licence plates is disturbing enough. they pop out here and there. they are suddenly in my face in the most unexpected moments. and on one sunny day, traffic was somewhat slow, so i was stopping my car and i looked around. there, on my left side was a car with your initial on its plate. i was frozen for five seconds, and i turned my head to the right. and of all the possibilities, chances, and likeliness, there was a girl on the backseat of a motorcycle wearing a yellow shirt with your initial, separated by '&'. so it's basically your initial meets mine.

the next day, due to some road blocks, my mother and i had to drive through a housing complex we never knew about. of all alphabets, they have your initials as the housing numbers. and when we finally got out of the street, we were faced with the name of the complex. it was penguin. your nickname.

it is NOT a big deal. because seeing your initials, moreover your name, all over the town is an everyday thing for me. my defense mechanism ranges from shoulder shrugging to 'whatever' to silent sighs. i just wanted to write this down, because those things happened and i'm still here. broken and heavyhearted, but i'm still here. and you know i'm always here.

pourquoi

2010-10-18T01:29:00.000+07:00

love times four

2010-10-10T20:10:00.003+07:00

somewhere in the middle of very loud music and thousands of people, the world left and i could only see a pair of lovers beside me. for some time now i have made an effort to keep myself from whining and complaining. at least in public. i can write whatever i want to here, right. it came down to feeling i didn't deserve to moan, nor to pout, when i had enough of what should have made me feel content. it's why i stopped talking to friends about you. and why i struggle to bury you under work and daily stuff. i am ashamed of talking about my feelings therefore i only write them down here.

whenever i feel like talking to you and i can't, i make myself remember that out of the starving people, i don't have to worry so much about having meals three times a day. i am sometimes crippled by this sadness but i try very hard to remember that i have a job, a coveted job no less (by some, at least), to be immensely thankful for. and i don't think that i am a stubborn person but i do not know any other word to name my feelings for you. and so when he stroked her back while listening to her talking, i quickly reminded myself of the delicious food i had earlier. they held hands and i almost frantically searched for something, i had to find something that would replace that hurt, and i was reminded of the parents who never questioned my choices and who gave me everything. the lovers were busy with themselves and i was ever so busy as well. i counted down my health, my agility, and how i had a roof over my head. it was until they kissed just as i accidentally turned my head at their direction i remembered that perhaps i should have also been thankful for as i turned my head away, i was still able to cry.

it's stupid, probably. and stupid some more. but i am running out of things to hold on to. and small, real things, no matter how insignificant they are, seem to be comforting enough.

good song

2010-10-05T13:20:00.005+07:00

a 2009 blur reunion stash tin filled with t-shirt, pins, and a souvenir book. the book's contents are words from two fans, photos, and their album reviews from leisure to think tank by select, nme and q. also the following words:

damon albarn: "blur never ended. it's not a reunion. it's just the next part of whatever it is or whatever it was. we feel happy to play these songs together and that's exciting. it feels like a positive thing to do."

alex james: "it's been strong medicine, the last few weeks. that overwhelming thing of volume, melody, memory, friendship. it's been...strong wine. the most beautiful thing, in so many ways."

fyi

2010-09-27T21:13:00.003+07:00

when you left, everything stopped being right

xjb

2010-09-24T19:00:00.001+07:00

status twitter adik saya siang tadi berbunyi: "the greatest thing about working with my father is i get to be reminded that i am the daughter of a very great man." saya langsung re-tweet, dengan menambahkan "+1, sister". sengaja tidak pakai 'sis' supaya tidak disangka sedang jualan baju dan menekankan bahwa dia 'sister' saya sungguhan.

anyway, waktu saya sma dan kuliah, saya tidak terlalu ambil pusing soal pekerjaan bapak saya. saya hanya tahu dia kerja di koran, sering menulis soal film dan budaya. lalu suatu hari kira-kira enam tahun lalu, saya baca buku kumpulan tulisan dia. telat abis, karena dia sudah menulis tentang film sejak tahun 1970. selesai satu tulisan, terus terang lalu saya agak terpukul. terpukul dalam arti bahwa saya tidak menyangka bapak saya menulis dengan sangat apik dan cantik, plus masuk akal. dalam semua tulisannya, tak pernah sekali pun dia menggunakan kata-kata tingkat tinggi atau njelimet. semuanya serba sederhana, serba terang, hingga menjadi sangat mudah dimengerti. padahal dia sedang bicara tentang struktur film atau sistem bioskop indonesia yang rombeng, misalnya. saya sebagai (ahem) penulis merasa ditampar kanan-kiri karena dulu suka merasa wajib pakai kata-kata tinggi biar terlihat pintar.

tamparan pertama saya sebenarnya terjadi ketika saya habis menonton 'american beauty', sehari setelah dia dinobatkan sebagai film terbaik oscar tahun 2000. saya sampaikan ke bapak, 'filmnya bagus sekali, pak. aku suka.' dia menjawab santai, 'bapak sih nggak suka.' saya jawab balik, 'lho tapi kan bagus?' sambil nggak melepaskan pandangan dari televisi dia jawab, 'bagus bukan berarti kita harus suka kan.' yang ada saya mangap-mangap lalu mundur teratur merasa kalah sampai abad besok. sejak itu saya memberlakukan pembedaan itu. ada hal-hal bagus yang saya tidak suka, dan itulah adanya.

lalu setelah membaca tulisan dia itu dimulailah fase pengintaian saya pada bapak sendiri. mengintai dalam arti saya mulai mengikuti jejak dia selama ini, dan memberi perhatian lebih pada apa saja yang dia katakan, terutama pada teman-teman dunia filmnya (alias nguping kalau dia lagi telepon/ditelepon teman-temannya). bukan apa-apa, saya sering dapat pencerahan maupun berita soal orang-orang film dari dia. beberapa kalimat dia seperti ini:
- sutradara R itu hampir tidak pernah buat film bagus. kenapa? karena dia tidak pernah gelisah. dia tidak pernah mempertanyakan sesuatu. tidak pernah terguncang. jadi filmnya ya hambar.

- saya nggak percaya pada sutradara H. dia buat film seperti terima pesanan. jadi dia seperti mengerjakan sesuatu yang bukan merupakan gairah dia.

- akira kurosawa itu sudah setingkat dewa. dia nggak akan pernah salah kalau buat film.

- ‘slumdog millionaire’ itu jelek. terlalu sentimental. dan penglihatannya seperti turis di negara asing. kalau mau tahu india, tonton salaam bombay.

- film-film sekarang tentang hantu dan setan tapi sudah mulai menerapkan logika dalam ceritanya. pembuat berusaha untuk memberikan alasan pada penontonnya. memang masih jauh dari harapan tapi setidaknya sudah mulai. (ucapan terbaru, 24 september 2010. sumbangan dari sis, eh, sister saya)

tak disangka-sangka bapak saya juga bisa mengeluarkan pernyataan ini, “barbra streisand itu juga nggak pernah salah. apapun yang dia sentuh selalu bagus. akting, menyanyi, sutradara.” terus terang saya nggak nyangka bapak saya pun nonton 'a mirror has two faces' (semoga hanya sedikit yang terkecoh bahwa itu ‘hanya’ chick flick biasa. salah satu baris terbaik di film itu menurut saya adalah ketika dia yang merasa sebagai ugly duckling bertanya ke ibunya, “what does it feel like? being pretty?” oh betapa hati saya porak poranda melihat wajahnya yang bertanya-tanya.)

bapak saya juga sepertinya mewariskan gen air mata berlebih pada saya. dia sangat mudah menangis kalau sudah nonton film-film yang bertema keluarga atau guru. kalau ada indikasi bapak saya mengusap-usap mata apalagi sesenggukan (!), saya dan sister (udah kalee, adik aja) dapat dipastikan sedang berguling-gulingan di belakang sofa sambil menangis juga. tapi karena tertawa hebat. saya terakhir menyaksikan dia menangis setelah nonton film ‘black’, sebuah film india dengan bintang amitabh bachchan.

yah, ini sedikit cerita tentang bapak saya. saya senang punya bapak yang cerdas dan masih punya banyak ambisi untuk film indonesia. sekarang dia lebih banyak menyoroti sisi bisnisnya, dan paham benar soal distribusi, data bioskop di indonesia, dll. saya ikut bangga kalau ada yang menyebutnya sebagai kritikus film nomor satu di indonesia, tapi kalau ada yang nggak suka dia atau tidak setuju ya juga tidak apa. sebagai penutup, ini ada percakapan yang saya nggak akan pernah lupa. kebetulan saudara sepupu saya (a) juga terjun di dunia film, lebih tepatnya film pendek. suatu hari (saya agak lupa, tapi kurang lebih ini terjadi di tahun 2000) dia berbincang-bincang dengan garin nugroho setelah si a selesai menayangkan film pendek buatannya. begini percakapannya:
garin: wah filmmu bagus. apa kata pamanmu? [paman a = bapak saya]
a: waduh nggak berani, mas. sumpah nggak berani! takut nanti dimarahi.
garin: iya juga sih, saya aja takut menunjukkan film saya ke dia. dimarahi melulu!

nb. dua tahun lalu, bapak saya pernah menyebut sutradara terbaik di indonesia saat itu adalah garin. semoga dia tidak takut-takut lagi menunjukkan filmnya ke bapak saya.

nb juga. film indonesia favorit dia ternyata adalah ‘lewat djam malam’. saya pernah nonton film ini waktu diputar oleh kineforum di tim. dan mmm, malah, mmm, ketiduran. -_-

one day

2010-09-12T11:05:00.003+07:00

'i tell you what it is. it's ...... when i didn't see you, i thought about you every day, i mean every day in some way or another--'
'same here--'
'--even if it was just "i wish dexter could see this" or "where's dexter now?" or "christ, that dexter, what an idiot", you know what i mean, and seeing you today, well, i thought i'd got you back - my best friend. and now all this, the wedding, the baby - i'm so, so happy for you, dex. but it feels like i've lost you again.'
'lost - how?'
'you know what happens, you have a family, your responsibilities change, you lose touch with people--'
'not necessarily--'
'no really, it happens all the time, i know it. you'll have different priorities, and all these new friends, nice young couples that you met at ante-natal classes who'll have babies too and understand, or you'll be too tired because you've been up all night--'
'actually, we're going to have one of those babies that aren't too much trouble. just leave them in a room apparently. with a tin opener, a little gas stove.' he could feel her laughter against his chest, and at that moment he thought that there was no better feeling than making emma morley laugh. 'it won't be like that, i promise.'

-- david nicholls

130 Days

2010-09-08T18:49:00.003+07:00

So here it rains almost every day now. You can always almost count on the rain to fall, when there’s so little we can count on these days. I turn to small laughter’s and whatever banter I can to keep me sane and to function. So hurtful things keep on happening but we’re not to complain, right. So if your best friend, say, was having drinks with your other best friend and you were not invited, it’s surely not the end of the world, is it. And moping and sulking would just be beyond juvenile. So I pretend that they actually held a secret meeting to discuss about my upcoming birthday. Sure it’s still more than a month away, but isn’t that what best friends do. They make plans for each other. And when my birthday finally arrives and there’s nothing for me, no surprise party, no thoughtful gifts, and no phone calls, I would just shrug and say, ‘Oh, well.’

I don't like it that I still enroll you in my daily life. But some things just happen involuntarily. By design, I still click '2' upon buying a new album from a musician we both like. I still want to tell you of all the things that have happened. And it only reminds me of how long it is since we had a proper conversation. And I don’t have any clue to your life, when it used to be the most natural thing for me. It used to be as simple as picking up the phone and saying ‘hello’. I knew how your hair would’ve bounced, what you would’ve said when I complained, and how you would’ve always calmed me down during the down times. Now, I am completely clueless. I used to make up the situations in your daily life, but the days, the weeks, and the months toppled over each other, the distance started from remote to extremely far-off, and it became more and more challenging to picture what it was actually you would do. Like for instance, you would probably say ‘Don’t worry’ about the so-called best friends, or you would scold me for being ever so sluggish in work. But I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. And on some days, shrugging and saying 'Oh well' just don't do it anymore.

never gonna give you up

2010-09-03T13:54:00.003+07:00

why hello, flowers. aren't you just the loveliest things ever. is it any wonder that on my way back from the post office, i just had to stop and take them home? well, it's more of paying for them because the breads i just bought would hinder my attempt of theft. anyway, now one of them stands by me. the flower, not the bread.

i wish you love

2010-09-02T15:44:00.003+07:00

"i wish you bluebirds in the spring, to give your heart a song to sing. and then a kiss, but more than this, i wish you love. and in july, a lemonade. to cool you in some leafy glade. i wish you health, and more than wealth, i wish you love. i wish you shelter from the storm, a cozy fire to keep you warm, but most of all, when snowflakes fall, i wish you love."

vraiment

2010-09-01T22:19:00.000+07:00

jusqu'à la fin

zebra

2010-08-30T00:06:00.000+07:00

taken from here

Heart!

2010-08-29T06:12:00.000+07:00

Heart! We will forget him!
You and I -- tonight!
You may forget the warmth he gave --
I will forget the light!

When you have done, pray tell me
That I may straight begin!
Haste! lest while you're lagging
I remember him!

Emily Dickinson

blossom

2010-08-26T18:26:00.005+07:00

i tricked myself into thinking i was a grown-up living in new york. last night while on my way to the grocery store, i also picked up my laundry and bought flowers. village showcase florist, perhaps. the walk became lighter as i was approaching the florist. flowers have always been one of my first big loves. ever since i was in elementary school. floral rulers. floral notebooks. flowers to me are so, so lovely. last night, there were flowers rarely found in the florist, said the seller. they were snapdragon flowers. as it was my first choice and it was very affordable, i bought two bouquets. one was for my mother. oh, i also bought my monthly magazines plus some books to save me from ever going to a bookstore in the near future. to save me from the mistake i did. in short, for the past few months i vowed to stop buying clothes shoes necklaces bags whatever. but then i bought endless magazines and books as a gift for myself for not buying clothes shoes necklaces bags whatever. so it didn't really work out. no.

anyway. i've always wanted to put flowers on my desk in the office but somehow never got around to it. now i look sideways and there it is.

ps. i am dying whenever i visit this blog. breathless, eyes falling out of sockets, sudden spasms, and so on.

TT

2010-08-13T12:06:00.000+07:00

sunshine

2010-08-11T12:06:00.004+07:00

most of the time, it's like, stop the world please, i want to get off. and by most of the time i mean my waking hours. but then there's 'norway' or 'zebra' that just forces me to shut up and thank whoever's in charge. these days, i only listen to beach house. in some sordid way, their songs are almost like what's been kept in my head all this time. the mere melodies and all those trinkets make me cry. when victoria (victoria!) sings 'where're you thinking that you gotta run to now', it's a pierce, a pierce so grave that i must, i just must, cry. and then it comes the second time around, 'hang on to the things that you're supposed to say'. and the following words of 'billions of stars that open to your fate'. it's like, double merde and vair, vair amusant at the same time.

oh, i also listen to swimming elephants. the playcount for 'sarah' right now is 144 and 'at the zoo' is 87. i am now leering towards 'at the zoo' though. it has these words: 'scavenging for the hopes, thrown away outside your door'. gda, i am proud to know you.

ps. to someone, please find another writing style. not mine.

8

2010-08-01T01:26:00.000+07:00

people say it's a new month. and with a new month they usually say hopeful things for the month ahead. for me, it's the sign for turning over the calendar. days go by and i don't find any difference. the beginning and the ending of the day is the same thing. and sometimes it doesn't even hurt anymore. it's just there. and i just stare into space.

it's not that i want to be dead. but sometimes i see around me, and i think they'll be just fine without me. it's what i see. it's not self pity. at all. i am not needed and that's that. nor it is about being selfish. but more often than not i want to leave.

Merde

2010-07-30T14:14:00.000+07:00

So I just bought a notebook only because I fell in love with the design. It's wholesome, childhood-like, adorned with white lace and images of paper dolls with clothes from 1950. Plus it had soft pink unassuming flowers, with 'Mon Jardin Secret' on the cover. Only when I paid and turned the book around did I see the following writing: 'Une fleur. Mon coeur. Mon amour. Toujours.'

Tue moi maintenant.

Tender

2010-07-29T15:41:00.007+07:00

some shook me, some made me be thankful for life and its people, and all made me cry inside.

these are a few that came to mind. i am in no way trying to be obscure or anything. haven't seen enough to call myself a film snob. and below are some i think i live to see.

NI

2010-07-23T02:48:00.003+07:00

this will be the last. perhaps. all to be let go. everything is different. you included. everything is different. so if by some goddamn miracle somewhere impending our eyes meet, refrain from asking things by now drowned, choked, beaten, forgotten, abandoned, killed. yesteryear, it was whole. not full of holes. your dreams now keep you away. all tales died. our tales.

ps. this is a very loose take on an indonesian song (by a popular indonesian band). anyone up for guessing which song it is? i'm not crafty nor wealthy, but i can make do with some writing. love letters, bitchy notes, sad remembrance, or perhaps company profiles: i'm your slave.

pps. post title is the songwriter's initial.

Her Fearful Symmetry

2010-07-19T03:32:00.000+07:00

She knew everything I am, and I knew her. Now she's gone, and my knowledge is incomplete. So all day I imagine what she is doing, what she says and who she talks to, how she looks. I try to supply the missing hours, and it gets harder as they pile up, all the time she's been gone. I have to imagine. I don't know, really. I don't know any more.

-- A. Niffenegger