Don't Laaaa....

I heard there's going to be a few political demonstrations regarding ISA. Don't lah like this... I've got to go Low Yat tomorrow. Nanti jam....

Like a typical Malaysian, don't know how to appreciate things when it's still there. If we don't have ISA, surely KLCC will get bombed by Noordin Mat Top you know. So be thankful that our rotten apples were drifted away by Selat Melaka to Indonesia because they know that they cannot survive in Malaysia because we got ISA.

ISA is like US's CIA lah. Powerful, misused and slightly evil but necessary.

I also don't like ISA because I know I will get arrested if I talk bad about Sultans and their family members. I'm a normal human being. I think royal families are normal human beings too. Because we are normal human beings, I simply concluded that we are equals. But that's just me. You guys jangan sedap-sedap jari kutuk Sultan in your comments okay because I will be responsible you know. If I get caught, I will plan my vengeance kaw-kaw.

But seriously, don't la jam up the road. People want to watch cinema, buy camera cable, eat Subway's sandwich and drink Slurpee. I don't want la to get stuck in a jam if you guys degil and still want to demonstrate.

The government is reviewing ISA now what... Of course lah a bit slow. I myself haven't receive my prize money from Jabatan Filem Negara for 2 months already. They all memang slow. And rude. And lazy. What to do... beaurocracy! Makan gaji rabun.

So relax. Don't do anything stupid like demonstrating. I don't think you're stupid for expressing your dissatisfactions. I just think it's stupid to be lead by politicians. They are playing their game of chess and you are their pawns. They're using you only you know. Look at DAP now. You think they are so clean? So rakyat-oriented? They makan-makan at expensive restaurants you know... using your money some more.

You think Anwar Ibrahim is so Islamic issit? Where got! Islamic my foot. If he's not giving his ceramah, he talks like orang puteh you know. He enjoy-enjoy like rich man you know. Of course la you don't know. His deputy also the same. You think he's so alim? Wife also coloured her hair blonde, shopping at Gucci Pavilion. Don't be blind lah. Politics. Poli-tics. Banyak-kutu.

Okay? Don't demonstrate today okay?

If you still do it, I'll sure mengamuk. I'll spread rumours that you demonstrators are spreading swine flu so everyone can cuti quarantine. Nanti when everyone cuti, you'll get punished and be forced to perform a cultural dance during malam merdeka. Baru padan muka!

I'm Different Because That's The Way I Am? Wrong!

I'm not a very social creature. I stay indoors most of the time and venture outside these doors only when necessary but yet I've been called 'eccentric', 'different' and 'strange' by a lot of people.

I'm eccentric because when I'm not preoccupied with anyone in particular, I will be instinctively preoccupied with the space around me which means I will microscopically analyse everything and everyone. Imagine a guy who stares at the ceiling for as long as you've been walking past him. So I get what they mean.

I'm different because eventhough I don't look like I belong in the malay archipelago, I'm very much a traditional malay person. I'm more comfortable speaking malay than english. I wear batik and baju melayu during functions. I'm mild mannered and polite but has a deep balming fire within. However, I don't look my part. So I get what they mean.

I'm strange because I exude an ambigous sexuality. You can never tell whether I'm straight or not. I read novels in parks and watch 3 movies in a row alone. I eat anything that is considered edible with a consideration lapse of approximately 5 milisecond. So I get what they mean.

But my traits are not borned from me or within me. I used to be a blank canvas, empty and white. Rows of acrylic cans assembled themselves in front of me and offered me colours to fill up my void. Colors juxtaposed themselves without restraint when I was younger because I was too weak and naive and stupid to resist them. But as I get older I formed an image of myself based on my inhibitions, ambitions and primal instincts.

The cans of acrylics came in forms of people, television, books, music, trends, magazines, the internet and movies.

Why am I ranting on this subject? Mostly because I know a lot of people who gets pissed that society gave them the 'stare' because they are different and they reasoned that that's the way they are.

Because people are dissapointed that the people around them don't understand why they are dressing up this way, talking with this accent about this and that and committing themselves in this sub-culture.

Because I'm annoyed when people like to assume things about people who are considered different and the victim of the assumption will simply oblidge to make the expected reactions when confronted.

You're not so different or unique or advantaged like you think you are. You don't make your own trend, you innovate them. You don't create, you manipulate. You're not your own magazine, you suscribe magazines. You're not your own movie, you watch movies. You're not your own personality, you mimic other people's personalities.

I'm sorry to break it to you but...

You're not so different after all. You were an empty canvas before being coloured by cans of acrylic in forms of people, television, books, music, trends, magazines, the internet and movies.

So please, stop spending your time defending yourself against people's judgments and start making your own beautiful painting with the cans of acrylic that you think are suitable and fitting.

Because maybe, just maybe, your mixtures of colours will become a newly discovered colour that your sons and daughters and their friends can use to fill their empty canvases.

Pergi

I loved this song the moment I heard it sung by Hafiz in Talentime. The lyrics are very clear. It's about loss, love and seperation.

It's all very ironic, is it not? I've always think that the world consists of soil, water and irony.

But we should not get over-zealous over Yasmin Ahmad's death. There are loads of talented filmmakers in Malaysia. Loads.

It's appalling to find that newspaper like Kosmo think its perfect timing to announce that Yasmin Ahmad was a khunsa. Why do that after her death when she can't defend or justify herself? Thank God newspapers like NST and the Star highlighted her contributions and not her sexuality. It's also funny to see non-muslims grieving her death more aptly than most muslims. It's just not right, exposing people's dirty laundry when they are deceased. It's not right.

She did something that she felt is right. We should all do the same. We should do the right thing and leave it be. Don't publicise it, brag about it, make money with it. Just leave it be and let it manifest into a world of difference.

Because it's the right thing to do.

Babu: Rethinking Art Direction

While I was writing Babu, I was immensely worried about the art direction that will take place. In 4 Peringkat Ajal, I experimented with 4 different styles of art direction and to me, I liked Eddie's part the most but it was his story and not mine. That's what I felt anyway. I'm choosy that way.

Favourites?

Tony Scott's fast paced montages, Timur's slow motion special effects, Joe Wright's wide angles, Danny Boyle's first person feel, Wong Kar-Wai's enigmatic lighting, Ozu Yasujiro scene transitions, John Woo's slow mo death and Yasmin Ahmad's defining backgrounds.

I love them all but I will never do these favourites' injustice by mimicking them.

I want to experiment with Babu. I want to show the audience how I look at things. I'm very analytical, very much like how Arundhaty Roy used narratives in God of Small Things. When I scold my brother to study, I looked intently at his textbooks and how the pages are clean and untouched. When I overheard my parents fighting when I was smaller, I looked at myself through my parents' shadow on a reflective clock. Some of the things I analysed does not reflect well on the situations I was in like how I admired the moon just before the roller coaster speeds up but what it does is it reflects fragments of how my mind works.

I thing it would be interesting to see how the audience perceive visual narratives without the comparative explaination. Will they respond by guessing the connection to the story? Or will they treat the narratives like props? How about the transitions from one object to another? Will it explain the emotional setting of the scene?

Questions, questions... The only way to find out is to do it anyway and get people's feedbacks.

Tiba-tiba I'm getting all excited to start the storyboard process. Can't wait to finish the script.

Kill Him!

I want to kill the Babu, not for fun but to enforce the effect of a sudden tragedy.

When I Grow Up...

I've been confused about my life ambition my whole life. When I was 5 to 16 I wanted to be an architect. This was because my mother was an architect herself. When I was 17, I entered matriculation and had doubts about architecture but I assured myself that this hate-love relationship is just a phase.

After two years of studying architecture, I began to take up projects and convinced myself that business was what I'm good at. But then again, I sucked at rolling the dough and ended up exhausting the dough of its previous gusto.

Four years later, I still don't know what to do with my life.

It was at night. I looked outside.

It was raining. It was cold. I asked my wet shoes: What now?

It was at night. I looked inside.

"That's easy" a teenie weenie voice said "You want to tell stories"

Memories are time travellers. I instantly remembered how I was and still am infactuated with the art of storytelling. When I was too young to write stories, I drew dungeons, castles, space pods and had my cousins travelled through it with their imagination with the aid of drawings and narration.

I read a lot when I was small and my mother encouraged this habit. She would pack me a book or two wherever we go for outings. She wasn't much of a reader but she knew that I love to occupy my time reading fictions so she stocked a large cabinet with an assortments of books.

When I was in primary school, my hobby was to invent stories and wrote them all in a puppet-like folded paper. I asked my classmates to choose a number for them to embark in a future that I tailored. I also had an awful habit that got me canned and grounded. I loved to lie. I didn't lie because I was afraid of the consequences of my actions. I lied a lot because I secretly liked the idea of determinable outcomes. It was as if I was weaving my own life web. It was all very exciting. I also made my own puppet theatre that starred Dan the Cowboy!

The later part of my childhood was robbed by my parents' divorce.

After everything was in order, I made more advanced attempts to tell stories. My mother bought me a walkman for my birthday but I used the walkman to make audio ghost stories, jungle adventures and epic badminton matches? I made slideshow movies with powerpoint I showed it to all my family and friends. Looking back, I've no idea they were so impressed. Before graduating school at 16, I'd read exactly 127 novels that I traded with friends, borrowed from the library or bought at MPH.

When I entered Uni, my love for films flourished because for the first time, I was in charge of the movies I wanted to watch. I rented 5 movies every week and journeyed to the far end of Petaling Street to get my hands on rare foreign films. I made short videos and as one thing lead to another, I got better at making videos and began winning competitions.

So in a way, even though I wanted to become an architect and an entrepreneur, I was drawn into the world of storytelling since I was very very small. I just didn't realise this until recently.

A lot of people commented on my first short film personally and through the internet but when Yasmin Ahmad gave a positive comment, it was a god-sent validation.

So confirmed lah ni!

I know what I want to do with my life!

I want to make films!

Babu the Short Film

Ritz commented that the short story I wrote makes a good short film. I thought so too.

So I am going to make this short film. I'm currently writing the script and getting feedbacks about the idea. I like the idea that ingenious wisdom that changed your life forever often came from familiar characters, people you see everyday. Sometimes we tend to objectify them, without realising that they hold with them great wisdom.

Now I need actors:

1. A malay child actor (age 8-10)
2. The child's mother (or aunt)
3. A real Babu

I will look for the Babu myself but I need your help to find me a good child actor. He doesn't have to be an actor, just an adorable boy with a hint of intelligence. He has to has an intelligent set of eyes.

Call me up if you find such a boy while I'm off to scout for the Babu!

Yasmin Ahmad, You Will Be Dearly Missed

A few minutes ago, I received dreadful news. Yasmin Ahmad just blew her last breath. Yasmin Ahmad passed away. You're not sad. I'm not sad. We're all not sad. Yet.

Loss is a peculiar feeling. It is a slowest emotion among its peers. In a marathon for emotions, Loss is the good-spirited handicapped man who smiles his way to the finishing line. If Loss is acute and easily susceptible, couples won't split in haste, young mothers won't throw away their babies, parents won't disown their children and you will cry right now.

But you are not crying. Loss is slow. Loss is now and here. And yet it is nowhere.

For people who are fans of Yasmin Ahmad, we will miss her heart tugging films and advertisments. We will miss her blog updates. We will miss her selection of favourite movies. We will miss all that, and more.

For people who are friends and family of Yasmin Ahmad, we will miss her spirit and soul. We will miss her presence when she comes into a room of people. We will miss her lingering touch and her infectious smile. We will miss her frown and cussing. We will miss all that, and more.

For people who thinks Yasmin Ahmad is a bad influence, we will miss her ambiguous sexuality. We will miss her provocative movie scenes. We will miss her struggle as a filmmaker. We will miss prebooking empty seats of her movies during the premiere. We will miss all that, and more.

For people like me, who idolised Yasmin Ahmad, we will, we will live on. That we will do. We will live on.

For everyone else in any of the above categories or feel that they belong nowhere of the sort, you will, at some point, miss her. Long before Najib proposed the 1Malaysia idea, she pioneered a string of advertisments and films that depicts and highlights the very essence of Malaysia: unity. She didn't make up all the sentiments. The sentiments were there and bare. She simply gave it some light and recorded in a camera and yet so many of us despised her for doing so.

Why are we so afraid of the truth? Why do we like to think that we live in a world where couples are inaffectionate, people of different race are not allowed to love each other and religions are used as tools of war? Why do we believe that we're living in that world when we live in a world full of love, tolerance and understanding? Why are we so pessimistic?

Yasmin Ahmad was an avid and constant optimist.

She saw the light that we all felt but looked away. She opened her eyes when all of us closed ours. She looked up when all of us looked down.

We refused to accept the source of the light, that the light is coming from one direction. We closed our eyes and looked down. We badmouthed Yasmin Ahmad who refused to do anything bothersome like to close her eyes or look down. Why would she when it is easier to bask in the light and be amazed by its many rays.

Yasmin Ahmad didn't stay mum and enjoyed the light to herself. She wanted everybody to open their eyes. She wanted everybody to look up. So she showed us a fragment of the light through our television screens and cinemas Some turned away. Some opened their eyes but closed their hearts. Some close their eyes and heart.

She's now no longer with us. Yasmin Ahmad passed away.

But she didn't leave us empty handed. She left us a mission. To continue her life work and promote unity and love and understanding. To showcase what is there and bare. To tell stories with conviction of its truth. To spread the word of love.

Today on this very solemn Sunday, people of all race and religion are opening their eyes but looking down at a person that will be dearly missed. Compromised by her condition, Yasmin Ahmad has no other choice but to close her eyes. But she is looking up, hoping that we too, with our already opened eyes would follow her by looking up to bask in the light with the company of each other, united as 1.

Babu

It was all done with haste. The divorce. The big move. The new life. In less than a week, I was on my way to IQKL Institut Al-Quran Kuala Lumpur, a tahfiz smacked in the middle of TTDI, an affluent neighbourhood with shady trees and clean back alleys.

Even when I was 10, places named with acronyms conjures an image of an instutional looking building. IQKL didn't quite fit its name. It was a bungalow house with 50 kids. Even then, before the architecture degree, I knew something was off.

Umi looked at me, her eyes pooled with hope. I looked at her rather indifferently. With my eyes I asked her "Why are you doing this to me?". She blinked and hope trickled and dissapeared into a darker shade of grey 80% cotton 20% polyester long dress. I turned away quickly. My eyes were dry. Too dry for comfort. So dry that I have to rub them to make my tearducts to function as natural eyemos. That gave the illusion of a small boy crying.

There you go. You got what you want. You will spend months thinking that I miss you.

A boy with a permanently surprise look told me to get my things and take my bath. Just before I officially stepped into IQKL, I heard a familiar honking sound. It was the international call for bread, novelty toys and snacks. It was the Babu.

I told Mr. Surprise that I left something outside and ran to catch up with Babu's motorcycle. Babu suddenly stopped near a corner house and honked a jingle. Back in Sabah, when a Babu stops and honks, kids from all corner of the neighbourhood will swarm Babu's motorcycle like ants apprehending a small piece of cake on the floor. In TTDI, parents forbade their children to roam around the neighbourhood and sent surrogates in the form of maids and servants to buy chocolate pies and butter cakes.

I plucked three chocolate pies, two marble cakes and a packet of homemade keropok. The Babu was preoccupied with international diplomats representing their ministries of domestic affairs so I waited by the side of his motorcycle and sat on a curb. To many, Babus look alike. They say that because they haven't seen a fair deal of Babus to notice their uniqueness. From my observation of having to move around every year, Babus are gentle creatures. The source of happiness from their job is not the money they make but the joy and excitement of hungry children gathering and circling around them. Imagine the Kaabah and the myriad of muslims who circles it. Same story, different setting.

I tore open a chocolate pie and devoured it quickly.

Different people require a set of different circumstances for them to freely express their anguish. Sadness and sorrow, like happiness and excitement can only strife in their preferable habitat. Some people cry when:

1. They are taking a bath.
2. They are with their closest friends and family.
3. They are alone
4. They are going to sleep.
5. They eat.

I am a no.5 cryer.

When the international diplomats dispersed to serve their respective constituencies, I handed over a ten ringgit bill to Babu.

"Hai adik kecil, kenapa nangis?" he folded the ten ringgit and put it in my shirt's pocket.

"Mak saya hantar saya pergi itu tempat" I pointed towards a nearby IQKL's signboard.

"Owh itu macam ka? Janganlah nangis adik kecil... Babu tengok adik kecil nangis, Babu pun rasa mau nangis." he said tenderly with a lingering growl. It wasn't an indifferent passing comments by most Babus that indicates haste. This Babu wants to stay. Babu plucked two chocolate pies, tore open both and gave one to me.

"Babu?"

"Ya?" Babu sat down beside me.

"Kenapa orang bercerai?"

"Orang pun macam itu pai coklat juga." He answered quickly and pointed at chocolate pies hanging on the metal container connected to his motorcycle. "Bila ada orang mahu amek itu pai, kena cerai la!"

"Tak masuk akal la Babu ni!" I laughed. "Metafora tak kena!"

"Mata apa?"

"Mata Babu!"

The Babu grinned widely and pinched my tear-traced cheeks. "Banyak nakal macam mana mau jadi pak aji?"

"Hafiz lah.."

"Hapiz?"

"Ha'ah"

"Wokey, roti baru!" Babu snapped with his coarse fingers.

"Hah? Roti apa?"

"Babu cerita sikit, pagi-pagi Babu amek roti sama Ah Chong. Kalau ada roti baru, Babu rasa dulu. Sedap ka, tak sedap ka, Babu kena jugak jual. Lepas rasa, Babu kata Roti Baru! Hapiz tu roti baru Babu hari ni." Babu plucked a packet of keropok and tore it open by twisting the tip before poking the base of the twisted tip. He then simply pulled the tip and it magically tore itself in a circular motion.

"Roti baru!" I exclaimed excitedly.

"Halo uncle!" an ustaz I saw when I was in the registration office shouted from a distance.

"Ha! Itu pak aji sudah panggil. Amek ini kek.." he plucked a few cakes and put it quickly into a red plastice bag. "Babu bagi free, kongsi sama kawan Afiq."

I looked at him like he was a magician who pulled off a trick. "Macam mana Babu tahu nama Afiq... Afiq?"

Babu smiled and offered me a hand. He pulled me up from the curb and whispered in my ear. "Kalau Afiq dapat lima roti baru, datang sini balik minggu depan. Babu bagitau macam mana Babu tau."

I shook his hands and ran back to IQKL, passing the disgruntled ustaz.

In my first seven days at IQKL, I learnt not 5 but 50 new rotis. So I made a list and ranked them in order so I can present Babu the top 5 most interesting rotis.

Roti List

1. Steam comes out of my body when I take a bath just before dawn.
2. When canned, the best way to minimise the pain is to tickle the inflicted area.
3. When my head was shaved, it feels cold the first day but hot on the following days.
4. The best way to stay awake during early morning Quran recitation is to nod repeatedly.
5. Our names are written on the back colar of all of our shirts.

Oh.

Don't Tell Anyone But...

I've always wanted to fetch you your coffee so I can eavesdrop on you brilliance.

I've always wanted to poke you in your facebook knowing that that's the only way I can irritate my big boss and still walk around the office, alive.

I've always wanted to purposely drop all my things when I bump into you so I can make you mad hence be automatically obligated to make you more coffee.

I've always wanted to stand on your way when you're directing so you'll shout "Oi budak, ketepi!" and gesture me to get the fuck away from the camera.

I've always wanted to get you to notice that I'm good in drawings so you can ask me to sketch storyboards probono.

I've always wanted to greet you with a jingly "Manakam mamaji!" with my right thumb up like in Alagapas ads in the early years.

I've always wanted to show you how I can eat like a pig and stay thin like a gazelle and make sure you don't know that I work off the calories when you're not looking.

I've always wanted to plant myself wherever you're at and volunteer to get rid of mosquitoes in your office. I will kill the mosquitoes slowly. With chopsticks.

I've always wanted to learn from the best. You are the best. I want to learn from you.

I've always wanted to join Leo Burnett so I can do all these things, no matter how creepy and specific it may be.

.

.

Don't tell anyone but....

I've always wanted to be you.

Yasmin Ahmad Passed Away?

Latest update:

Yasmin Ahmad collapsed but she's not dead. Her condition is now stable!

I heard an update from her closest friend Ali Mohamed myself and he said that she's doing fine.

Let us put rumours of her being dead to rest.

She is in a state of coma and is now being treated in a hospital at Damansara. Yasmin Ahmad had a stroke and collapsed at Seri Pentas while she was giving a presentation to a crowd of people including Siti Nurhaliza and Khalid Jiwa. An in-house doctor declared her death but she was later revived when she was brought to the specialist hospital at Damansara. She is currently on life support.

What we can do now is to pray for her.

Have a moment of silence and pray for Yasmin Ahmad's recovery.

Hairy Situation

You're balding, in your thirties and tonight you realised that your head is exceptionally scarce of hair. Maybe it's the blind date that got you nervous. You're nervous that people might compare you to the striking gal that you'll be dining with. That, or you're a modest man and wouldn't want people to have the impression that you're rich. Because your fading best shoes will give you away.

You went to a pricey Japanese restaurant and waited for AngelinaT.

"Omedeto"

Okay. All is fair. The striking gal you viewed and sent flattering comments on her pictures in Myspace isn's so striking after all. She is not 25-28-45 but 52-82-54. She's a photo editor for a chinese tabloid magazine. No wonder. You youself posted headshots from a peculiar angle that hid the true condition of your hair. Okay. All is fair.

After an awkward dinner, your date loosened up and asked you questions related to your job. She's in her thirties. She's desperate and straight to the point. She wants to know how much you're worth, whether or not the depth of your pockets compensates the density of your hair follicles.

"I'm in sales."

"What do you sell?"

"I sell ladders."

"Oh, I see... for a company..."

"For a company near Damai there."

She stood up. Her stomach slightly potruding from her big belt that she thinks gives her an illusion of a waist. Normal people wouldn't have notice this but you can. You are an expert of anything slight, scarce and the gray between slight and scarce. Every morning you practice your innate comparative skills in front of the miror.

What you don't notice is she'd been figuring out the nature of your hair. People do this all the time that you are delusioned to think of them as passing gestures.

"Thank you for dinner.... ermm..."

You refuse to remind her of your name. You're more inclined to be known as SuperClimber75. The irony of your name is too much for you to bear, let alone to AngelinaT.

"This is my card" Not a good sign.

She gave you her card. Tin Chen May. Okay.

You gave your card. Robert Hei. All is fair.

You went back home frustrated with yourself, especially your hair. The condoms in your wallet expired today. But it's not the condom's fault that you walked out of Kimogo empty handed. It's your hair. You've applied expensive hair tonics for half a decade even though you see no result, other than your hair smelling like Spring Garden. Yes, it's the hair tonic. That stupid hair tonic. That useless hair tonic. That fucking motherfisher hair tonic!

You're no longer the strong silent type you described yourself in Myspace. You cursed your way to the hair treatment centre where you religiously bought your hair tonics.

The girl at the customer service desk frowned when you came into the office. She smelled trouble. And Spring Garden.

"I want my money back!"

"What seems to be the..."

You nod your head to let the ambient lighting reflect itself on Amber's squinting eyes. You took out your wallet and threw your membership card on the desk. Amber took your card and handed it back to you. You felt dejected and betrayed. You put your Zapdos back to your wallet. You gave her the wrong card. You gave her Zapdos, your favourite Pokemon card.

"I'm sorry sir but we don't do refunds"

"What!!!"

"But you can file a complain and we'll do our best to solve your problem, whatever it might be. Fill in this form right hair, I mean here."

You had enough. You stormed out and lost it. You remembered nothing else that happened from that point on.

Your telephone rang. You woke up with your legs aching. You asked yourself "What happened last night?" You answered the phone.

"Ini encik Robert?"

"Ya, saya Robert."

"Encik Robert, ketua customer service Syarikat Tangga Lam?"

"Ya ya.."

"Encik Robert, saya Inspector Ahmad..."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"...dari polis trafik Petaling Jaya. Saya rasa ada orang tinggalkan tangga panjang sekitar jalan kilometer 2 dekat Petaling Jaya ni dekat dengan iklan besar.... jadi... saya nak syarikat encik tolong pindahkan tangga tu sebab ia menghalang trafik."

You were sighed in relief. "Baik Inspektor"

You rushed to kilometer 2 PJ, picked up a long ladder leaning on a billboard and left the scene with a dash.

End

(I took the picture and felt that the torn billboard deserves a good story so there you go!)

When to Take Off My Name by Leo Burnett

I was in the middle of doing a thorough Leo Burnett research when I found this speech made by Leo Burnett.

It was just a little farewell bid of goodbyes carefully crafted to remind the world of his legacy. I found myself balming up to his notion of work ethics and without any reprimand, I saw drops of saline trickling on the table in front of me. I was crying. Leo Burnett ended his speech with a joke, in which I responded willingly and laughed my head off.

Suddenly Kak Seri walked urgently towards me with a glass of teh tarik *my favourite* and a thermometer?

"Afiq mahu ke kelinik ya?"

A Wing and a Prayer

I'm currently seeking Leo Burnett's internship programme. I'm convinced that that's the place I'll devote myself to learn and explore my passion for communication design. I know I'm an architecture student but my passion trascends my studies. Every lecturer, every student I came in contact with knows that. I'm described as a torch bearer who still has his torch flamed but running away from the prescribed direction. I know where I'm heading, they do not. I'm heading towards you, Leo Burnett with my fire undying and eternal like my urge to eat nasi kandar Penang.

I'm heading towards you.

I'll be sending my resume today. I need a lot of prayers. It's not hard to do guys. Just sit back and mutter to yourself "I hope Afiq gets Leo Burnett's internship..."

It's that simple.

Please please please say a prayer or two to yours truly.

Mat Rempits and Drag Queens Banned

"Apa????"

Mat Rempit and transvestite will soon be missing from Malaysian movies and television as instructed by the Communication and Culture Ministry.

Does this mean movies like Tootsie and Mrs. Doubtfire will be banned?

When will Grandpa Rais Yatim realise that surpressing a negative influence will only make it more popular and desirable or be subtituted with something even worse?

When will Grandpa Rais Yatim realise that these negative sub-cultures can only be prevented by introducing and encouraging a positive counter culture?

When will Grandpa Rais Yatim realise that he is not fit for the job? He is too old-fashioned to understand today's youth.

We don't need a Grandpa to tell us what we can and cannot watch. We already have other Grandpas and Grandmas in Lembaga Penapisan Filem who banned scenes like the pointing of gun to the head and the open display of armpits.

Even though we have no say on the decisions made be these Grandpas and Grandmas, I guess we have time on our side. We'll just wait till they die and pass the torch to the Uncles and Aunties.

Unfortunately they bred the Uncles and Aunties to think like them so it won't make a difference.

And then they complain about how kids nowadays like to follow western influences.

When Grandpa banned Porn, we made 3GPs. When Granpa banned malay Hantus, we watched Korean Hantus. When Grandpa banned excessive violence, we buy Unrated Rambo 3 in 1 set DVD at Pasar Malams.

When Grandpa banned Mat Rempits and Mak Nyah from appearing in television, there will be more Mat Rempits and Mak Nyah that we don't need to turn on our television to see them anymore. We will have Rempit kids and Mak Nyah nephews living in our homes!

What will Grandpa ban next? Hip hop artistes who raps about women? I would like to see Grandpa giving his grandson Caprice The Talk.

Thank You Grandpa for your priceless Wisdom!

Lazy Sunday and Defying Fate

Yes, I defied a Deja Vu today.

I noticed the repeated anomaly and for once acted on it with vigor and determination. The moment I began to admire my wallet,


I knew I was going to pat the cat

and read Click.

But I fishing defied my deja vu and made fishing stuffing for a fishing chicken!!!!

(note: fish is my substitute for the word fuck)

Yeargh!!!!

This is Sparta!!!!

Take that Fate! Mother fisher!!!!

SHOUT AWARDS

I went to SHOUT Awards yesterday. I initially thought that it was the first Award Show handled in english but I was later informed that it was the third. You see, english awards are always short-lived because they don't usually get the expected coverage, which means the sponsors don't get much air time.

I don't blog about award shows that I attended because I usually get VIP seats from friends and family but this time, I got a VVIP seat! The law of relativity dictates that this award show takes the cake and the next time I'll be blogging about award show will be about me winning an award. Hint hint. I was seated with celebrities. In front of me was Jaclyn Victor, Nikki, Rashidi and his wife Vanida and loads of familiar faces.

Beside me was Zarina anak pontianak with his boyfriend Caprice. She was extremely chatty and I joined in her conversation once in a while. I was witholding the fact that I'm Afiq from Afiqsays because I famously kutuk-ed her in my James Bond Malaysia entry (it was published in a tabloid magazine!). I know she knows but she doesn't know that I know she knows.

Behind me was Miss Malaysia Deborah Henry's goddess-like legs. I can confirm to you that her legs are made of chocolate and gold with honey glazing. He boobs however are yesterday's Paus.

The seat I was in was like a tanning salon. Every 10 minutes, a flash of bright light will glare over my glistening blue baju melayu, leaving me squinting like a dazed ostrich. It was like "The winner of Shout Award bla bla bla is.....

*Lampu gila babing*

Nas!

All the other celebrities will pat the winners on the back, shake their hands and congratulate them with generous smiles but the moment the winners make their speech...

They terus lost interest!

I can't blame them for being so self-absorbed. They make a living out of people recognizing them so when another person gets a huge chunk of attention, it is like losing a substantial share in a their business to somebody else. So of course they don't care. Of course they don't give a damn. Of course they will suck up to the winners and get back at them somehow. Dendam Membara.

The most memorable win was Upin and Ipin's. Hmm... Betol betol betol!

It got more interesting after the show when the celebrities and young social elites mingled. There were three types of people that hung about after the award show:

There were the untouchable elites.

They are not literally untouchable lah. These people are heavy duty corporate figures who made the event happen. They hung out at secluded areas and talked about business like you and me talk about food. Business is their food.

And then there were celebrities on the rise and established media people.

These people mingled in flocks. The constantly relied on catalyst to spread their networking. Berpusu-pusu diorang masuk guest hall to grab a drink and furiously throw their name cards to other people's pockets. They were all like X-Men's Gambit without the southern accent and a cool tongkat. Aspiring actors and actresses, with the guidance of their managers of course, tangoed through the whole crowd with NASA efficiency.

And not forgetting the celebrity Wannabes.

Most of the Wannabes were people dying to get into the fashion scene. They dressed up provocatively, hoping for a celebrity to point out "That's hot" for them to launch D'Jelita or Chantique. I've no eye for fashion and never bothered to pronounce Mouboussin correctly but I still think that the guy/girl in the picture has a whack sense of style.

I'm talking about the guy in the kain pelikat miniskirt over a overstretched spandex. Stylo kah itu???

Setem the Movie Review

I went to Setem the movie preview because I was invited by Ajami, you know... the guy who thinks I'm 'bodoh+sombong+takbur'. It was a bit awkward because I was alone but I acted cool anyway, hiding my nerves behind my leather jacket.

There were many actors, actresses, aspiring wannabes and aging has-beens who didn't quite fill the theatre. It was only three quater full. Most of them were dressed for comfort and greeted fans like fans you get for free in weddings. Buka-Pakai-Buang-Lupa. You have to understand, they will only be genuinely interested in you when you're a possible executive producer or a vindictive tabloid journalist. (think fat and thin effeminate fashion victims with notepads surgically attached to their wrists). Having to know this, whenever I passed by them, I shook their hands and squeeze the living hell out of those soft mosturised palms. This is like a male equivelant of boob flashing. Oh yes, about the movie....

If you've been reading this blog for quite a while, you'll know that I don't write film reviews. Whylah want to review? It's like listening to a friend telling you the whole plot of a movie that he/she had already watch last night, you'll first ask "Is it good or not?" and when your friend answers Yes you'll clasp your ears and tell them "Don't tell me... I want to watch first!!!"

This is what I will do. I will tell you whether or not Setem is worth your while.

Foxy Malaysian women are magnets of world's rich and talented. Rebecca Loos seduced David Beckham for a quickie in Madrid. Our Bond girl Michelle Yeoh pulled in Jean Todt to promote Malaysia to his rich and powerful friends for Malaysia's Ministry of Tourism. Kabir Bhatia is no different. Hailed from India, he too was married to this country and shared his competence in film directing and screenplay writing to myriad of complacent filmmakers in Malaysia.

He saw that there is potential in Malaysia's dessert-like local film industry and dug a hole to an unexplored oasis. If I were to describe Kabir Bhatia the filmmaker in one word, it would be Competent.

Setem is basically about two con men, an ex-convict, his best friend and a triad leader chasing after a 4 million dollar stamp that dragged in other unexpecting characters like a plain blind guy and his hopeful sister, an extremely honest (and naive) illegal Indonesian immigrant and some other characters that aren't important enough to mention.

The script was original and funny and didn't seem to need any exaggeration or slapstick humour to make it work. The plot was unexpected but the ending was surprisingly dissapointing. You would think that an action-comedy movie has an ending that ties every nook and cranny into a 'Oh, that's why...!" moment but nope, it didn't do that. An entirely different story emerged in the end to pacify the moral of the whole movie and because of that, the movie lost its prior edginess.

Every film director has his/her own style and people who have watched Sepi and Cinta will notice that even when making an action movie, Khabir still sticks to his 'trademark'. His zooming and panning technique that worked marvelously in love dramas didn't quite work in most stagnant scenes in Setem. It made his movie looked like an 1 hour 50 minutes action packed television commercial.

Should you watch it? Yes, you should.

It's funny, entertaining and Competent. For its Competence as a film, you will not complain about the sound mixing, editing and other technical stuff. You will laugh at the extremely funny Sathia, get annoyed with Afdlin Shauki and Rashidi Ishak's Yo Bro Yo Bro, be impressed with Que Haidar's attempt to be blind and be tempted to write your own ending.

All in all, you WILL enjoy yourself.

(I write good reviews no? They should invite me to more film previews. Hehehe...)

Birthday Yang Dah Ber-Carat.

Haleem, a fine dine enthusiast who also happens to be my senior schoolmate invited me to have dinner with him to celebrate my birthday (eventhough its more or less a month late) He brought me to C Club, an extension of a renowned jewelry line Carat Club. So its a restaurant and a jewelry exhibition gallery. Genius!

I was told that C Club specialty is its champagne and even though Haleem persuaded me that champagnes do not usually make people drunk, I insisted on drinking a non-alcoholic beverage. I don't think he knows that I have a very high tolerance for alcohol. Must've been the Listerine I purposely drink everyday before I go to school.

I decided to order a non-alcoholic drink with the strangest name. Behold, this, ladies and gentleman, is the Virgin Bruce Lee.

Even though the thought of its name conjured images of braised human limbs and sun dried eyeballs, the real deal tasted like a subtle lychee-strawberry-coconut fusion. I couldn't see or taste anything that might resemble Bruce Lee. But then again I wouldn't know. I've never tasted Bruce Lee before.

While I was drinking the liquid remains of Bruce Lee, I saw our first galactical tourist, Dr. Sheikh Muszaphar Shukor smoking cigarette with who I assume is his well scultped girl friend. They looked very intimate together. Let this revelation rest rumours about him being gay. Even my gaydar didn't tick.

This is a very traditional looking salad with poached cucumber, tomato and solanum melongena aka terung served with cream cheese. Emmm... Cheeeeese.....

Fried shrimp and cuttlefish:

I have an unrelentless thirst for anything pasta, I think I've eaten over 30 types of pasta already including Pasta Ikan Masin at Thailand with Uncle Lan. I ordered Pasta Bottarga with an excessive topping of parmesan cheese. Emmm... Cheeeese......

Pelik la dunia ni, bila nak diet, ada orang belanja makan. It seems like my death is destined to be caused by high blood pressure, stroke or diabetes.

Qada' and Qadar, apa nak buat?

It was great night to be having dinner with a lost & found friend who I used to lepak with for hours on end back in highschool. He made it clear that that night was my night but kept making jokes about how I think everything revolves around me.

I get it lah, you smirking cup of tease.

That's me pretending to blow the candle (which explains why the flame looks stagnant) Don't give me that look, everyone does it.

But the highlight of the night was my name on the rectangular plate. The chef spelled my name the way I secretly like my name to be spelt.

Notice the capital Q. Chef C Club ini psychic!

The March of the DUN

I was browsing Adam's blog and came across a video of the Perak DUN fiasco. I've heard of it but never watched the fiasco with my own eyes.

After a few minutes of watching the youtube video, I cried.

I'm not sure why I shed a few tears. Maybe it was because I was extremely embarrassed by our selected leaders choice of behavior.

Maybe it the display of disrespect and discontentment is just beyond me.

Maybe I cried because of its shear beauty. Yes, the fiasco was beautiful. It shows how inhumane human beings can become. Well dressed men were flapping their arms in unison while screeching their ritual mating song. One prominent male Dun throws an offering of RM50 to a female Dun to impress her. The female Dun took offence and threw a beautiful fit. The de-throning of the king of Duns was a sight to behold as the opposition colony waddled their way to bar the king from their new-found territory.

Then I remembered the last time I cried when I witness a remarkable spectre of nature. It was when I watch The March of the Emperor Penguin, you know the part when the panguins performs their seasonal ritual fight to get a mate.

You've got to watch the documentary yourself to know what I mean but it looks vaguely like this:

I'm Sorry

I found out that some people took offence with what I recently wrote. I checked out my referrals at nuffnang and came across this:

Afiq says in his blog that my winning for 2 awards ala2 conflict of interest….ai shall pass this to yoyooh.com to answer congratulations Afiq, akak ingat, ai went to mengadap you to congratulate you. btw, yes ai m famous wt anything in red, but it s nice if you would say RM or redmummy.com . kan….? n condeming somone yang istimewa seperti Pyanhabib adalah tidak molek … we can have a karaoke session coz we tot we have a nice voice but someone is struggling to survive with his unique voice…appreciate someone’s effort coz sambal sotong yang kita makan sesedap tuh, adalah dari hasil usaha and berkat mereka yang bekerja. not just having a free meal

With a stinging comment by Ajami.

agaknya kalau terlebih mkn sotong boleh nyebabkan org jadi ‘bodoh+sombong+takbur’ kot???

fyi, salah satu mende yg aku belajar dr blogging ialah terlebih cuba ‘memandai-mandai’ bercerita perihal org lain boleh menjadikan tulisan kita ‘paling bodoh’ bila tersilap fakta kerana membongkar ‘kebodohan kita sendiri’.. lalala!

Macam mana ni Afiq?

I didn't condemn the guy with the lisp. Sila ulang baca. Baca ulang. Ulang baca. Notice that I wasn't politically incorrect in any way. I was being professionally journalistic, noting an event as it is. Save your preaching for your sleep deprived children, Lady in Red. (One of my favaourite songs: Lady in Red by Chris De Burgh)

I don't mind people gloating in their own blogs but I'm not required to mention people's blogs or names am I? Taking offence for my lack of acknowledgement of your fame is plain silly, especially when you're not THAT famous. Example:

Statistically famous bloggers: Kenny Sia, Melayu
Minimalis, Xiaxue

Self-delusion based famous blogger: Lady in
Red

And as for Ajami's comment, he could've just give me a piece of his mind in my blog but he prefers to dish it out at some other place where I'm usually not around. In simpler terms, this is what we call mengumpat or backbiting.

This Ajami guy is considerably old so I expected him to have some tact on how to react to things that might offend him but as it seems, he's not capable of showing his age through his actions. Maybe he thinks its awet muda to rant insensibly like a young person.

This is why I didn't want to go in the first place Hariz. Because there are many old judgemental cretins yang 'gila-glamour+perasan-baik+kononnya-educated' tapi 'rasa pandai bila mengejek orang lain' yang membongkar 'bertapa hipokritnya diri sendiri' tapi akan menyanyi riang sesudah puas hati mengumpat.

Lalalalala!