Sleepless Nights 92 - For the Bent and Broken

I don't expect you to understand.

The sudden silence, the growing distance, the darkness that envelops.

You are hurt by it, that much I am certain. However, the truth remains.

There is a void in me. An abyss of unfathomable depth and each day, I find myself sinking deeper. I know that I tend to be overly dramatic - and may I say poetic? - when it comes to expressing myself but in this case, unfortunate as it may be, the words do me justice.

I've stopped trying to look for a cause for this darkness that dwells within. Yes, you may say that I have given up - finally - and for once it does not wound my pride to admit it. Really, when I try to break it down and analyse it; observe it under the most minute circumstances, it merely gives way for more questions. It used to be interesting but nowadays it is too vexing a thing for my mind.

Maybe it is the reason why I reach out desperately to so many people at once, you included. I think that perhaps I may come to an understanding of myself by understanding other people. So far it has not been very profitable, the very opposite in fact. It's destructive to say the least and come to think, I don't mind it that much if it is only to my expense.

You've gone through the same phase, I suppose. It starts off with an absolute blast and then it goes downhill at 200 km/h. I remember the exact time you realised that something was amiss. You said 'Wow, the exams really sucked the fun out of you'. The exam had nothing to do with it, of course, you just witnessed what many others have; my true colours.

You say that you like me and believe me when I say that I am intensely flattered. To a certain extent, I reciprocate the same feelings but the more I think about it, the more I realise that it is to my own selfish agenda. I keep you by my side because I think that you may be able to patch up this monstrous emptiness that has taken refuge in my very being. Perhaps at one point, I even believed in it and in doing so, dragged you along into this make belief fantasy of mine. Which is quite fucked up to say the very least because deep down, I know for a fact that it is merely a delusion. 

You are correct, I think, when you say that I am not a bad person. If I am in the narcissistic mood, I may even say that I lean slightly towards the 'good' spectrum but it does not exclude me from noticing how very flawed I truly am. In my quest to figure myself out, I have torn apart others and what's worse is that I manage to leave bitter copies of myself in them. And these are the people who I used to care very deeply for. Fuck man, this probably makes no sense to you but what the hell, I'm in the mood to rant.

Being extremely self critical of myself also makes me look at other people the same way. The reason for this is so that I can use these flaws to make a quick getaway like some sort of cartoon villain. Shit, sometimes they aren't even flaws but hell, beggars can't be choosers. The point here is that a normal person shouldn't even give a shit about this, you know. It's all so very superficial. Time and time again I tell myself that all of this is bullshit and I shouldn't be bothered but holy shit, it fucks with my mind constantly. 

Everybody seem to have this idea where talking will make everything better. Maybe they're right but none of them actually considers the idea that some things can't be put into words. It's not even a matter of vocabulary; words really are inadequate at times. Then they'll say 'Oh it's alright, we don't have to talk about it' but sooner or later the variation of 'You should have told me something was wrong' comes up.

Can't really blame them, in a sense. We're wired differently after all.

I don't really know how you'll react to this. Confusion, probably. Perhaps with a pinch of disdain for good measure. Oh well.

Sleepless Nights 91 - Slippery

Shit man, I thought of writing about Egypt and the past six years but screw that shit. I'll rant, as always.

I'm back home. Graduated. Someone messaged me and referred to me as Dr. Zufar and I had to smoke a cigarette to calm the fuck down. But I'm back home. That's good enough.

I'm drinking this coffee right now, Cap Gantang from Kedah and this shit is fucking awesome. As if made by goddamn prophets or something. I guess Cap Tupai has a worthy opponent now.

I went out yesterday with the high hopes of watching Ophilia.

Shit man, this film has been on my list for months and I finally get to go see it. So I make my way to motherfucking Mahkota Parade only to find that;

1) It was crowded as shit.
2) There was a lion dance competition (Which was awesome)
3) I have no idea where the cinema was

So I walked around like a dumbfuck and asked around until finally I saw the ticket counter. Strangely Ophilia wasn't part of the list. There must've been some sort of mistake so I asked the guy and he told me that nope, it wasn't showing there. Disheartened, I asked him if he knew where they were showing it and he told me Dataran should have it.

Not that bad, really, considering Dataran was just across the road. So I watched a little lion dance and made my way across. So the whole damn fiasco began again. There were so many fucking people and I can't seem to find the goddamn cinema. Asked around again, got lost, found the cinema and...

No Ophilia.

Well, at that point, my blood was simmering. You might say that I should have looked into it first but fuck man, Dataran's GSC is a popular fucking destination. I've never heard of MBO or Aeon for that matter. So the trip was in utter goddamn vain which led me to do something irrational i.e. splurge on books.

And MPH is a piece of shit bookstore. I cannot explain my disdain for it. The only saving grace was the fact that it had a lot of FIXI books which was on my list.

So I bought a couple of books. Then I went to Starbucks to sit down for awhile. I was feeling okay at that point because I got Zen Cho's Spirits Abroad and KL Noir Yellow was sold out so I went to order. I shit you not this was how the conversation started.

"Java Chip large satu"
"Eh, kenapa garang je muka ni bang?"

Fuck man. Had I been the type to lash out, I would've fucking lion danced on the cunt's face.

*

It's good to be home though. I sat on the swing outside my house at dawn a couple of days back, coffee mug in hand. I just soaked the whole thing in. I wouldn't trade this place for anything.

Tapi 2.0

Nak bini:

Kulit putih pipi gebu,

Mata kelabu ayu gitu,

Rambut ikal mayang au naturale

Panjang sampai lutut, harum, tebal.

Badan harus slim

Buah dada C Cup baik punya stim,

Punggung bulat montel

Betis lembut tanpa bulu, kaki versi comel,

Peha takleh bercium nanti susah nak gentel.

Pantat kena licin macam kepala upin ipin,

Nak innie bukan outtie,

Ini bukannya fantasi hening dinihari,

Engkau bini aku suami,

So dengar cakap aku okay?

Nak bini:

Macam mesin dalam kamar tidur,

Ada punat 'on' dan okay je main jubur,

Mulut tak lesu, rahim berkuasa nuklear,

Tak pernah penat tak pernah kata,

Baby, abam, sayang please I'm tired.

Yang mahu hanyalah kata-kata manis,

Disaluti erangan, rengekan berdesis,

Sex drive bini wajib bak enjin V12,

Mengiau through space and time baq ang,

Tapi...

Tapi ini penting,

Pabila keluar dari rumah,

Diharap perangai dijaga,

Usah merengek usah bertanya,

Pandangan ke lantai,

Kalau tidak kena bantai,

Jalan belakang suami,

Haram toleh ke sisi,

Pegang tangan andai perlu sahaja,

Toksah manja-manja ya dinda,

Malu kanda.

Enjin V12 tadi?

Oh lupa, sila downgrade jadi basikal.

Nak bini:

Otak geliga kalah bidadari,

Straight A1 sudah pasti,

Ketua kelas, pengawas,

Tapi barang aku jangan rampas,

Anugerah 15 almari,

Umur 17 masuk Uni,

Scholarship kiri kanan tanpa diminta,

Tapi jap, belajar kat mana?

Dalam negara? Sorryla kalau bukan oversea saya tak layan.

Nak bini:

Ready kahwin umur 21,

Mengandung 21.5 beranak 22.

Nak anak 6 tapi badan kekal anak dara,

Didik dengan cara tradisional,

Tapi mentaliti wajib moden,

Tapi janganlah moden sangat,

Budaya barat, sayang.

Anak nangisla, laparla, lampinla,

Eh lancaula, kau buat apa?

Tak tahu jaga anak ke?

Aku suami, balik kerja penat. you tak paham.

Kenapa you dah tak macam dulu lagi?

Ish, longgar la, tak sedap.

Nak bini macamni,

Tapi tengok muka sendiri,

Cermin pecah, dinding retak,

Biawak pasir tengok,

Tergelak pecah perut.

Nak bini macamni,

Tapi perangai macam beruk,

Cangkung belakang reban hisap syabu,

Bodoh sombong, kaki komplen:

Minah ni semua jual mahal.

Nak bini macamni,

Tapi pergi sekolah jual porno,

Buku buat alas kaki, bro

Pukul cikgu yang try tolong, bro

Tapi semuanya A-OK,

Pasal dengar cerita dulu Einstein pun bodoh.

Nak bini macamni,

Tapi kerja 7-E syif malam,

Atau office boy lengkap dengan.

kaca mata hitam tiruan Ravi Ban,

Pusher dadah malam hari di Chow Kit,

Ditemani ladyboy

dan bomoh Lorong Haji Taib.

Tapi,

Nak jugak.

Late Nights With Putri III

23

I forgot about my birthday. It took a near complete stranger to remind me. Very strange feeling, forgetting the anniversary of your birth.

Went to Coffee Bean to study. Realised that I hate birthdays. Too much expectations. Perhaps that's the problem with us all. We expect too much. We believe ourselves to be important. Ordered a large iceblended mocha. It'll probably taste like shit but when in Rome.

Replied a few messages. Thanked a few people for their wish. Dad messaged. Missed him a lot. Mom gave a great wish. Felt very sad. Continued studying.

Thought a lot about my future, if there was any. Thought about what I have achieved. Realised there wasn't any. Big shoes to fill. Smoked Winston lights. Looked out of the window and watched people. A girl smiled at me. I did not return the act. Too much on mind.

23 and nothing to my name. Not a good start. People build empires when they're 21. Talked to Kitty. She tried to cheer me up. It didn't do much good. Asked her how she'd reapond in the event that I passed away. She was honest. I like that about her.

Anila wished me a happy birthday. Said she messaged the wrong brother before. Hilarious. Asked her to go to the book launch in my place. She agreed. Realised I missed her a lot. She used to keep me sane. I regret not making an effort to talk to her more. How many others have I left hanging?

A waiter put a 'Reserved' sign on my table and winked at me. I found the act strange yet reassuring. Saw Mun walk by the shop. Waved to her. Probably busy. Smoked more cigarettes.

Naz messaged me. I had a good laugh. Very witty, that girl. We talked for a while. She quoted something out of a movie. Insulted her for it. Po asked if I was coming back. Said Bob was going to cook instead of dining outside. Told him I was on my way.

Went to the toilet. Came back to my table and realised there was another book. 'Journal of Indo Mediterranean Culture'. Waiter pointed to the reserved sign. It clicked. I moved to the table behind me. A girl with a lip piercing took my place. She mouthed a sorry and smiled. I wanted to talk to her. Decided against it. Not the place, not the time. Stared at her reflection in the mirror. People rarely notice if I do that. They think I'm looking at something else. Very useful maneuvre.

Thought about suicide. Had an idea for a short story. Pondered on the idea. Realised room has no place for a noose. Not sure if coincidence. It was growing dark. Kitty was being a tease. I couldn't respond to her innuendos. Not sure how she'd take my 'jokes'. Been told I go overboard often. She puts on a show of an experienced person but I have a feeling she's clueless. She gets upset when I tell her that.

Felt less depressed. Thought about what Bob was cooking at home. Food is the source of ultimate comfort. Finished studying. Listened to Butterfingers' Sober. Decided it wasn't a state of mind I should be in. Remembered Shaz giving me an aged copy of Shakespeare's plays. Thought it was the best gift I've ever received.

'Look at the stars' the song said. There aren't any to look at. We've fucked it all up. Thought about making a model of a night sky with LEDs. Thought that mosques and churches are really depressing. Very cold. Imagined a mosque with stars decorating the dome. Want to do that.

So many thoughts. Mind feels obstructed by the fibrosing tendrils of inquiries. Not sure what to do. Voice in my head saying death solves everything. A small voice but very persistent. Waved the thought away. Much to live for. Want family of my own. Want name written in history books. Want so many things. Illusion of glory. Everybody laughs at the idea of being successful at 23. Too young, they say. They don't understand. Worth of a son is measured by how much he exceeds his forefathers. They don't understand. Perhaps I don't either. Want to change the system. Don't know where to start. Die before getting started.

Tired. Packed my bag and left. Cold outside. Tiny drops of rain pelted my face. Felt good. Wished it poured. Very calming when it rained. Reminds me of home. Hungry. Arived home. Sufi gave a cupcake. I gave her a hug. Bob didn't cook. They ordered pizza.

Skyped with Naz. She slimmed down. Laughed at out pact where we'll get married when we're 30 if single. Knock in the door. Pizza is here. Wanted to talk to her later. She wanted to go to bed. Some things never change. Went to living room. Lots of pizzas. Jesus. Waited for girls to come. They came. It was awkward. Celebrating yourself is awkward. Ate. Kadir made an appearance. Thought about hanging out with Cleo clan. They didn't feel like coming. Reminisced. Kadir went home.

Sat in room. Wrote this. Flurest taking effect. Feel very alone. Realised this has gone on for as long as I can remember. Hard to climb out of a well you jumped in. Very dangerous. Maybe end up alone. Not that bad. Learn a lot when you're alone. How to live with yourself, for one. Thought about future. Not sure if any.

23. Happy birthday to me.

Merdeka

Late Nights With Putri II

Ethics

When Our Skies Darken

Sleepless Nights 90 - The Soup Kitchen

Late Nights with Putri I

Honesty. To the Fucking Max (V) - Ultraman Taro's Horns.

D

Sweet Dreams are Made of... Her?

Trans-motel

Excerpt from travel journal written on the 19th of September; 2013 in Kuala Terengganu.

Understanding People: A Virtual Journey

The Curry

I always thought that killers would naturally have a tangible aura of detachment surrounding them. A shield, perhaps, slowly strengthened with each drop of blood spilled.

How strange it was to come face to face to my executioner, only to find that his eyes held the warmth of kind grandfathers. How strange it was to not feel fear as I inched closer to Death's bosom, instead finding myself intrigued by this supposedly evil man. I wanted to be held by him and I wanted to listen as he whispered the secrets known only to the oldest of trees and the heaviest clouds.

He circled around me in silent contemplation; his footsteps and almost inaudible breathing blending into a melody that accompanied my bleak fate. Round and round he went, eyes partially closed, waiting for something. A sign? Divine intervention? Had my killer developed a conscience at this crucial point?

No. No, I convinced myself. Behind those eyes, those warm pools of brown, there was discipline. The old school, no bullshit, get in get out, at any cost type of discipline. Doubt, conscience and second thoughts are merely dried leaves that could do naught but flutter around the steel monument of resolve. He was going to kill me. Somewhere in the universe, my name was being slowly erased, letter by letter from the massive stone tablet called existence. The hour drew closer. I could feel its breath upon the nape of my neck.

The only question that remained: Why?

What had I done? What had I not done?

As I began poorly enumerating the possible causes of why an individual would have me removed from the surface of the earth, the footsteps stopped and the breathing deepened. He was right behind me, with a gun to my head, I'd wager. And then he spoke, voice as deep as the oceans.

"You do not know why you are here." Clear and smooth. There wasn't a hint of stutter. "In accordance to my employer's wish, I must ask you a question. You are to be given two choices. One guarantees you your life and obvious compensations while the other will lead to your swift and almost painless demise. If you understand these conditions, please nod and say 'Yes, I understand'."

I nodded. I told him I understood.

"Very good, sir. The question is as follows."

Inhale. Exhale. I knew I could do this. There was a long pause, it was as if my angel of death was giving me a grace period to make peace. Here it comes.

"Babas or Alagappas?"

I had a second to frown before it all finally made sense. The curry obsession. My flirtation with the two brands. My infidelity. My refusal to admit one is better than the other; not because there were equal endearing qualities to both but simply because it made me seem more intellectual. My mouth went dry. They found out. I tried to speak, to explain but my throat refused to move its muscles. A dry hiss instead of an explanation.

"You have ten seconds," my dear gunman said. There was no impatience in his words. Simply business.

Think, THINK! 9... Where do I start?! 8... Babas? Should I go with Babas? 6... But Alagappas... 4...

3... 2... 1...

I screamed out my answer, screamed as hard as I could till the heavens shook from my conviction. I kept on screaming as I waited for the bullet to silence me. My throat burned, my lungs deflated, my gut rigid and only then did my screaming stop.

"I'm sorry, Sir, that was the wrong answer."

It was almost painless.

Random Questions - Newfriend edition

#ProjekBuku

This song. Holy fuck.

The Pillar Crumbles

What the fuck man, these guys are bloody awesome.

Insecure post ahead, heads up.

Books

Sleepless Nights 89 - The Chick.

Tapi.

Sleepless Nights 88 - Coffee and 2013

No, I can't understand shit either. The translation, however, is pretty fucking boss and the story surrounding the song is even more... Boss. I like that word. Boss. Also, long post ahead, just a heads up.

Riot In the Streets

Sleepless Nights 87 - Blade

I suppose I really do like older women.

*

I have a scar on my left index finger, close to the proximal interphalangeal joint. I cut myself bad with a fucking machete when I was a kid. I still remember every detail about it, for some reason. I saw my Mom sharpening a knife on a whetstone and I thought 'Hey, I can do that shit'. So I took the machete out and got to work. I must've done a bloody good job because I didn't even realise I cut myself immediately. It was a pretty deep cut and while medical attention would've been needed, I was more afraid of my Mom finding out. So I tied some pieces of tissue hard against the wound and pretended nothing happened.

I remember, with precision, how I got every single scar on my body. They're like video snippets that I never manage to delete from memory. I have a scar in the middle of my forehead from the time I slammed the metal kitchen door against my head. It wasn't intentional, I simply had a bit of a brain malfunction at the time. I was running (For no reason, of course, people don't believe me when I say my soul is a spirited one) towards the kitchen when I thought that I could reach the door handle, open and close it in one move without decreasing speed. I'm not very bright, see, so what happened was that I misjudged the breadth of said door, yanked it open anyway and received divine retribution right smack in the centre of my forehead. Hence the slitlike scar.

My knees are scarred to bits from countless falls; each of them immortalised in memory. The biggest one I received while falling down and having a jutting piece of stone lance itself a quarter-way through my knee. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. I was running (Again with the running) from nothing, come to think, it was just my way of entertaining myself. I used to get so... Lost in worlds that I created. I still do and I think that's my biggest achievement to date. I kept the child in me alive, well and thoroughly corrupted to the point of no return.

Then there're the self inflicted ones. I guess those'll always remain a mystery when it comes to the 'why' aspect. I honestly did not have any motivation to do it. I just simply did. One possible explanation was that I needed to understand the reason why other people did it. However, one might argue that surely one cut is enough? Why did I 'graduate' to molten plastic and so on? I remember my Mom's face when she first saw the scars. Putting aside the fact that I might be over analysing it, she didn't look angry. At all, which was surprising to me. She just looked very... Befuddled. I don't think she knew how to handle something like that, her kids were suppose to have some sort of basic logic, after all. At the same time, I think that she was slightly upset over the fact that she only found scars and not wounds. I think I wounded her ego a bit there.

I have no reason to talk about this, really. It popped up, just like everything else.

*

I'm in the Endocrinology department and today I met with one of the first doctors who actually made me want to be a doctor.

She was our teacher two years back when we first ventured into the seemingly fucked up world of clinical medicine. I use the term fucked up lightly because to be honest, the only other phrase I can use is 'masochist education centre'. It's a wonder how none of us quit.

I joke a lot about having a crush on her. Too much maybe, that might explain the weird looks but I digress. For a while, even I asked myself if it's just a fucking joke or am I seriously falling into some sort of inescapable abyss of the insane. She was a beast. I'm not even fucking kidding. I can't kid about this shit. We'd go into class, get a new asshole torn and leave with our tails in between our legs. She took my confidence, threw it into a blender, coated the pulp in chilli powder and concentrated acid and then proceeded to shove it so far up my ass, my liver burned.

And God bless her for that. I can count on one hand how many people I am truly thankful for and she makes the list. Today I met her again. I was so bloody desperate to achieve some sort of level recognition and if this was the middle ages, I would've chopped off the head of the smartest kids in class and skullfucked them just to get noticed. Then this exchange took place: (She will be referred to as the Grand Beast)

Grand Beast: You... What was your name again?
Me: Zufar.
GB: What?
Me: Zu-
GB: Whatever, nevermind.
Me: [Internally screaming]

Okay, that might have been fabricated. I don't internally scream. [Internally scream]

In all seriousness. I wasn't dejected. A little maybe, but I attribute it to the whole 'Why the fuck can't you even pronounce a simple fucking name' thing I always have. So I thought about it for awhile and the whole maturity-wisdom-sage thing kicked in and I made sense of the whole thing. This might take a paragraph or two.

We can't help but seek ways to better ourselves. This comes in many forms, obviously, like everything else and it differs from person to person. Personally, I hate feeling stupid. That's the reason why I like to be in the company of people that are so much smarter than me. I feel small in their presence, I constantly feel like I am merely a shadow to their mind and while it tends to drive me batshit insane at times, it has a much greater benefit as a whole. I take my pride and my envy and I pitch it against these monumental behemoths of persons and it's very clear that I fall short by miles. And I condition myself to not want to be envious of other people but not in a noble sense. It is, truthfully, a very twisted way of living. I want to be able to not envy them because I want proof that I am so much better.

So when this aforementioned she-demon of a doctor enters the picture, the same thing happens. Here is the most intellectually intimidating creature I have ever had the pleasure to meet and she is basically telling me day in and day out that I will always fall short. Of course, in reality, she doesn't use this term but that's how I saw it through my diseased eyes. It became a challenge that I could not resist and it ate me up.

Fast forward two years and I meet her once again. I have managed to learn a thing or two and became a sliiiiightly better student and she didn't seem as insanely intolerant anymore. She was still far more accomplished, obviously, that much is definite.

The problem is that I tend to romanticise everything. I've always, always had this problem. I take an event that's not even slightly life-changing and then I proceed to create these brilliant (Am I allowed to call my creations brilliant? Seems somewhat... Narcissistic. Wait, I am exactly that) stories around it so that it could conform to my crazy fucking expectations.

It's good to know I'm not obsessed with some thirty over years old married lady. Still, she is up to this day, one of the most brilliant doctors I've met. I mean she managed to take medicine, something I previously loathed, and presented it in a way that I could appreciate. It's like taking dust and convincing people that it's actually the soul of the universe.

You gotta be fucking awesome to do that, man.

*EDIT: I would, of course, appreciate not alerting the Grand Beast about the existence of this post. While when analysed, it is shown to be full of praise, I doubt she would consider that over say, running me over with her chariot.

**EDIT: I would also appreciate not having the term Grand Beast thrown around. Or she-demon.