My Blog

My Dears,

I came across an old video clip So long my old friend

I suddenly bumped into this video and felt sad.  So I thought I would like to share it with a few who were close to me…then we grew apart or grew up.

(Watch the entire video) its sad…its terrible that we have to move on and forget things therefore acknowledging  it as a norm. Why can’t we keep everything close to us? Does that mean it becomes an attachment so it creates a negative impact in our lives?

I remember a few people whom I was so very close to when I was younger or maybe not too far from the distant past yet now we do not know each other. We’re strangers, and all that happened before is well…stale memories, like a dusty doll at the back of a cupboard. Sleepovers, laughs, promises of forever, and hopeful thoughts…

So long, old friend…I wish that I could see you once again…I never knew the time would come when I’d be losing you…

I hope you know I never meant to treat you badly…and now I know just what a friend like you is for…I never thought that it would end so sadly, and you’d be walking through that door…

So long, old friend…I wish that I could see you once again…I never knew the time would come when I’d be losing you…

I always thought our fun and games would just go on and on…I never knew I’d have to say sooooo long…

I never knew I’d have to say sooooo long…

My dears,

It has been sometime since I last updated this wretched space! Nevertheless it is raining in Melbourne and many emotions are conjured and we start basking in them. Alas! Is not self sadism a part of every ice cream eating individual emotion? (Too Deep) Lets become a little light or a little Mariah headed.

I can’t and I shan’t ! I am here to write EXCACTLY WHAT I WANT TO WRITE! FUCK you Sarah! I am going to be an emo…black nailpolish and all.

I am a little homesick…then again I always call home. But last night Ramana decided to call me but my phone decided to fuck me. Sooner or later people have to realize that the sexual relationship between my battery and my phone have lost several sparks. BITCH dies out on me whenever I need it ! Soon I will have to find a shoe box, wear my best black clothes from the factory warehouse and host a burial for my nokia. I am losing track of what I wanted to say…

When the phone beeped its last, I suddenly felt very alone. That void haunts me, I feel like deranged refugee trying to shit in a flushable toilet then talk to his relative in Sudan. It is almost the same feeling I get (the loneliness not the shit) everytime Lekha goes offline after work. God ! I miss both of you. It is a strange feeling, like a silent rather hollow statement that your brain refuses to accept. Winter is a time for mouring, so is rain. Unlike Malaysia’s tropical rain, Melbourne’s rain is an aneroxic French model. Slim, slightly irritating and very cold. It is times like this that I close my eyes and go back into memories. Sometimes we only remember the small subliminal things that remind us of sunnier statements. For me, my dear PUKI MAKS, is many a thousands! Comforting me n lulling me to bed in  Mat Salleh’s country.

Last night I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Like a non drug induced Ketamine/Pill trip, I was transported back to Paandi at 7pm. Ramana’s car broke down at the side of the road, Lekha and I went over to see the fuss. Before I know what is happening, Ram puts a sign in front of his car and decides to have a mock fight with me and Lekha. WTF were you thinking? and the police comes to enquire pluz a thousand cars decide to take a break and see the drama…yes, a normal day in KL. Either that or some other ridicilous escapade that ends up disastrous but unwillingly educational otherwise it enters the (DONT EVER DO THAT AGAIN) list.

We never realize what we have until we are taken away from it. I never acctually thought about it until Ram called yesterday. Sometimes I feel I avoid Ram and Lekha’s calls because the more I think of you, the more I miss you, the more I miss you, the weaker I become, the weaker I become, the more I miss you. And this Aussie piss rain is not helping either ! Get me a Star Trek tele porter and send me home for awhile…for just one drink and a smoke; maybe some Mary J to last the car ride.

With love,

Ishwar

To all my sweethearts who are casual readers of my blog, perhaps you too have felt what I am feeling as I write this blog. With heartfelt empathy read

Cat, remember the first time we met? Yes! It was during an August night…when the tropical winds blew through the midnight stature of KL. Ah, the skies were red with dust and lighted by city lights. I left the house, locking the gate behind me as I walked I could hear the cuckoo clock striking 12am. It was the dead of the night at the side of your bungalow that I decided to cuddle you before we kissed in the dark of your green colored walls. Of course now you don’t live in that house…you’ve shifted. But the last time, when we sang songs together with your guitar, when we departed or it was where we wept n left stains of our tears at the front of the guardhouse.
Strange is it not how we met? My dear dear Cat, how can I forget those nights when we smoked up with Ramana. Ramana would talk so much crap, but you would listen to him with so much of patience and love. Of course the corner of your eye would be spying on me, stoned and typing on the computer. Ramana would get tired and fall asleep. You would hold my hand in the dark and sleep at the back of my shoulder. Awakening to the squaks of the Parakeet outside my window and the barking of Shasha the dog . When you open the window, you could see Felix the cat trying to climb the Rambutan tree. Remember ?
My dearest Ramana, forgotten those lovely evening walks from Pink Triangle? Both of us laughing until either of us would slip from the side of the bus. Or those little toilet trips that you would tolerate from me in Pasar Seni. Oh Dear, how could I forget the counsel session we would endure from each other…Oh fuck, what can I stay about our miniature adventures into Chow Kit street or that pathetic raid.shut. Zam’s little drag show,or the time you saw my wig flying into midair at the blue boy drag competition, I just smiled at you, reassured of your presence as my beloved brother. So I chucked the wig onto your face and went on to booty shake in front of the judges. Just…just as how Sarah Rostam had thought me how to…

"DO THE SNAKE DANce, DO the booty shakes, or Ishwar! Just rollover and pretend you kena babi Sawan la !! Do I have to teach you all this? Girl you aint got no sense in your head till you know the best !"

Sarah…you thought me to know that we bootyshaking girls, well we live to rock,rock till our bones shiver or we make others shiver. Just like our little outtings, we spent short but meaningful times keeping each other sane. Beside the road, you n I…Sarah, do you remember how we would watch cars pass through the highway? and how we would wait for your mother? Countless amount of times we have been there, giving each other the spinal pillar support to move on…through tears, through sobs. Or by holding on via the universal pressure of clubbing and manipulating your grandmother into letting you out. Then Mei Fen will come with me to pick you up….

TO BE CONTINUED

My Grandmother remembered a time when her radio blared the celebration of our first independence half a century ago…Today, Independence seems like a distant promise, as distant as the country I am in now…

The soil that I was born is an extraodinary land, with so much which goes unknown to the common man’s eye. It is indeed strange that when your away from Her, you realize you love her so dearly. My Malaysia, My Kuala Lumpur…how dearly I miss you

People think Malaysia is just another country, Kuala Lumpur is just another chaotic state. But wait ! Have you ever taken the chance to stop by the train tracks at Setia Jaya or take a walk along the Tengku Kelana roads when the evening sun begins to set. Perhaps you havent been drunk in a park with a few friends, or spent the night in a bungalow deep in the jungles, played in waterfalls, smoked at Genting Highlands, screamed at a bunch of girls for not getting dressed earlier, getting drenched in a midnight storm, falling asleep with 5 people in a cramp room, experiencing the supernatural element in a car, eating nasi lemak at midnight, getting caught in a brothel, falling asleep at a bus stop, making love on a muddy grass field, falling asleep nestled inbetween your lover’s hand and waking up to the smell of Nasi Lemak, the list goes on. Seems like something normal doesnt it. No it isnt. Everyone told me, Australia is heaven on earth…Melbourne is one of the most beautiful and liviable cities in the WORLD! WAH WAH WAH! It isnt. Living situations are much more tolerable here. Period…

What is missing? Life…is missing. My dear Malaysia, years of supression has made you into a mutated country but do not think twice that you have changed. There is still many people who exist to create the underground Malaysian dream. The dream of a Malaysian rebel. People who exist to create the best of you. It is true that when I am faraway from you, that I miss you dearly and wish to fight for your freedom and make you whole again. My dear Malaysia, you have taught me to grow up and be who I am today. You have nurtured generations before and to come. Destructive by nature and yet you bring together nations, race, religion…you embrace it,indeed I cannot be shy nor can I keep my silence within but rather I scream to bringforth your 50th birthday…MERDEKA !…MERDEKA !…MERDEKA !

Dear Darlings,

I believe that it has been such a long time since we have acctually spoken to each other on one table. But our laughter is a memory that will haunt this MAK PANTAT untill the day I have to expire from this burden of a so-called-life. Some of us, acctually most of us laugh together and talk about each other. Some of us have moved to places that are too faraway from the green mamak and the 5th floor and some of us have moved on in their hearts to places where even I can’t reach you anymore. But that doesn’t mean that my love for you or your love for me has vanished but rather it grows day after day also we learn to appericiate people more and more. From you I have learnt how to be a better person, to come above my lowest points and uphold trust in friendship and family…because you all have been family.

Im leaving girls…Im going to Australia. I dont know how long that will be, and it pains me to think that it has supassed a year or maybe more since we have all gone through the sheer pleasure of each other’s company. Of course videos, pictures and pure memories that can’t be deleted from my brain cells have given me the oppurtunity to say that I love you all so much and other then my mother and cat, it is you all that have made me complete. And it is only all of you that will create a big hole in my heart as I leave. We will move on, meet people, laugh (maybe some of us even more) and have anticipations and hopes that go beyond the days that we held on to but all this will not compete with the wonderfull memories we have had. Because some people are meant to stay in our hearts untill our memories take it’s final resting place inbetween old books or perhaps in the heavens.

Once somebody asked me what is a time that I wont forget, I said my happiest memory would be ciggarates, jasmine flowers, sarees, screams and more screams haaa and some make up. LOL! All of you bitches ha! You all must take care of yourselves! To each of the women who have walked with my journey through life, I would like to thank you all so much for giving me the guidance I needed though some of you did a little too much…HAHAHAHAHA All you Ms Things! MAKE SURE YOU ALL COME VISIT ME OR ELSE I CUT OFF YOUR KUKUBIRD or if possiable then hair la

Take care girls…until we meet again

The experiences we have together and you are being taken to a new country…and I will tell the tale of each girl I love dearly and keep the memories of your monstrocity and mengadaness as a legend.

Ishwar

I woke up this morning once again cursing the bed bugs who have now become my intimate company in bed. Why..oh Why do I have to tolerate such LOOOOVE from such a lover who sucks my blood at night and runs inbetween the covers of my mattress in the morning. Sounds like a bisexual Malaysian…Wahahahahahha// Ohh maybe I should tell you all about the frog I finally murdered in my toilet…Yes! I have begun a massacre of bugs, frogs, ant, moths, cockroaches, spiders, and many other creatures which I really cant describe unless Im an enthonologist. My magical wand consists of a huge fly swatter and you may have guessed it by now…Baygon.

I did have an alliance with the frog until one day he decided to jump from the top of the shower onto my hair, I gave a shrill pitched scream, I swear Barbara Streisand would have been embarassed if she heard me. And you all thought I will romantize about India…Fuck India!

I open the window every morning to face the balcony of my neighbour’s, not a very pretty sight…an old wrinkled Bitch who stretches her legs apart…Oh TIDAK! Her deformed ancient cunt is a divine recommendation for people who want to become slim. Speaking of slim, yes I have become slim. I have spotted a beard, and my eyes itch but my waistline explains the look men give me when I walk on the road. Gone are the thick hips, and fat stomach, like my Guru here says, I have become the creepers of the Banyan. Enough of all that now moving on, I must tell you about the grave behind the house. Just 2km or so from my house is a traditional crematorium…ooo at night if I stand on the roof I can hear the shrill burning of hair and the popping of body parts. Just yesterday a malnutrioned boy from the lower castes was burnt there. The Vetiyan (The Gravekeeper) has become a good friend of mine, for 2 eggs and some biscuits, you can watch a body melt away into bones and ashes…just suddenly if the heat is too great the body gets up…the feeling is unexplainable but yea…

I have begun to accept my sczhiopenia, one part of me is housewife cleaner and the other is a messy chavunistic male, then there is the feminist city born educated gay man. Night after night I sleep, think of all my friends back at home…all of you, my keadilan girls, my college mates and my friends, my sisters. I miss all of you so much.

Once when I was in India during the summer, the heat…the heat that disturbed the feet on dry grounds, the same heat that blinded the eye, the same heat that distrupted the electricity, Alas the period called Agni Nakshatra had begun, the star of the fire god. Indeed the fury of Agni could be felt through out the nights. Sometimes I had no choice but to open the windows…Across my room in Thiruvarur, was a huge paddy field…An old and huge banyan tree grew outside the window, the Banyan was so huge that the grounds below the tree could shelter 15 to 20 people, with lovely roots that children made swings out of,underneath the tree was a Shivalinga,so the tree brought in the smell of jasmine flowers and incense into my room which was on the 2 floor. My grandmother once told me, the Banyan tree holds the spirit of lost souls which is why in Malay you have the term Buniyan which means ghost, and also its the resting place for Shiva…the god of destruction. So at night when the window was opened, the plane dry paddy fields of the summer blew a cool wind through,like the howl of a sad soul, just last week in the village across the paddy field…a young woman had committed suicide. I would off the lights, and the moon would spread a sheet with the stars…The Banyan tree swayed gentlely and an owl flew into the arms of the Banyan tree,downstairs, the houseowner was sitting on a swing,I knew because the creaking came through the walls. With a ciggaratte in the hand I looked out the window. I was not really afraid of the Banyan or the darkness that enveloped the paddy fields. I remembered what harm could a spirit do that man has not…the cool wind blew and dried my sweat…I was alone in the huge house with only a banyan tree that creeped through my window as a friend…the excistense of reality and all its present metafore didnt seem to matter then…so I spread a mat and allowed the lulling sounds of the lost souls to put me to sleep…reminding me that Agni was here to stay throughout the summer months.

The talking Sin, indeed food has become the forbidden sin NO! The pleasureable sin that seems to speak to me…the cheese blue berry tart in the dining room is calling me badly to make love to it…ooo to sink my teeth deep into its utterly comforting presence, the sweet sugary syrupy sin!! no ! I bet Eve didnt have it this bad in the Garden of Eden..I mean I would have give Adam a blue berry tart if it came from a tree and if the salesman was a snake…I mean its sexy and you get to be shy about being naked and guess what…we will patch kids who will soon destroy the world!and make computers

No!! now the buns have started an orchestra…ooo wait do I hear a single note from each egg biscuit! The keropok is doing free style, the Ikan Bilis Sambal in the fridge is rapping, and the Sausages are pretending to be Beyonce…!!! GOd have mercy on my soul…Where are the tomatoes and celery…!!!

You all must be wondering why this sudden description of a world of food…"well the time has come the Walrus said to talk about many things"…Food! dear food…FUcking delicious food, a Cream bun is better then getting fucked but the result wont get you fucked…a sacrifice for one to get another…running, starving and trying to be decent about 3 meals seems to be most Difficult act for this Diva…yes I love my fats, HEll I wobble them in the morning for me to see …I became fat so that I wanna see myself Fat again…but Im getting bored of the Fat Bitch in the mirror…Im ranting…forgive me…but my nipples arent happy about my shoulders and their affair with stretch marks…so I have started losing and burning..My fats that is…Alas…Wait! The Friend chicken in the fridge is doing the last encore. I wish I had a fly swapper….Id smash all these imaginary food quartet…but I know one thing…I wanna have those slim hips so "someone can hold them and try to kiss me", I wanna have that broad shoulders so I can wear my tight black tshirts with their long sleeves, I wish my Momma bought an instant lipo machine, Nah I rather burn them by running. I wanna be a sexy Diva…the whole Queen Latifah Cum Oprah Winfrey look is soo last century…Beyonce is coming HOME BABY!!!

P/S: This blog entry is a self confession by a Keling Geisha…plz disregard it…it is a mere beautification of the Midnight Hunger Pangs…

Love,

Hantu Lapar Diva

I have been doing alot of thinking and I have finally decided that perhaps I too should start blogging…perhaps it might just turn out to be a phase…like that time that I decided to become a staunch vegetarian, or when I decided that the world was black…wait! I think several phases do go on for a longer period or have a relapse…

Mei Fen is currently trying to take a bath in the bathroom, she has decided to spend the night here…*sigh I do believe I too should purify myself with water due to the fact that too long a period was spent in the presence of Arabians (no offense) in Berjaya Times Square…What has the world come to, we saw this whole Budaya show which acctually looked like a cheap hooker movement in Hong Kong…no im not kidding, there was one show with a huge chinese woman in the middle (god bless her soul) and 4 ugly patrons to accompany her on her journey towards finishing a dance sequence…The Horror….The horror…then Chinese New Year decided to come early, 6 unfortunate little chinese girls were dancing on the stage, I call it child abuse…Brandon Lee decided at that moment he shall consider himself a Japanese…being a CHinese then would have destroyed watever dignity he has stored for himself…all I have to say is that…all Races have their own embarassing moments…Look at us indians…we run around wearing purple jeans with horrible striped rainbow shirts and STILL we consider them straight….WOw! Indians dont need a Huge broadway show in Times Square to show off their racial disgrace….Well I tried to help Mei Fen give out flyers…we ended up throwing them on people before warming our royal arses on a luxurious rock looking across Sungai Wang and bitching. Nadeem was fuming because I didnt come for his dance today afternoon, yes! I was fashionably late…make that 3 hours late…Im sorry but the Diva needs rest…Cucumbers were sooo last century…anyway I have ranted abit too much…I hope people could get back to me on my first blogging your comments are most welcome as long as their in private….or else Id have to throw my Egg Tarts on all of you…*snap *snap *snap