So Blind

http://dailysocial.net/en/2011/09/08/indonesian-government-threatens-rim-with-additional-taxes-over-malaysia-decision/

http://theunspunblog.com/ (see: 'Introspection, not revenge...)

Oh, poor Indonesia. Griping and whining again because Malaysia managed to snag RIM (BlackBerry) from them. It's no small wonder when you live here and get first-hand knowledge of just what Indonesia asks and has asked of RIM to do. Take a read for yourself and it will all make sense. It's so sad because other companies that want to invest here are going to look at this and think, "Why invest there when we can invest and build somewhere civilized and reasonable?" If only the government could pull its head out of its ass and see clearly.

100% bad-assery!!!

I've been an Anthrax fan for a long time. Honestly though, I never fancied their albums with Joey Belladona on vocals nearly as much as the ones with John Bush. 'Persistence of Time' was pretty bad-ass as was ' Among The Living' but I never cared much for the others. A song here and there yeah, but overall, not so much. Even 'Sound of White Noise' was hit and miss for me. It's got what might be my favorite song of theirs ("Only") but other than that, there wasn't much on offer. Then they released 'Stomp 442' and I was a die-hard fan for three years until they released the stinker 'Volume 8'. How they could dip so quickly and drastically with one album still shocks me.

However, they picked it back up with 'We've Come for You All' in 2003. While it wasn't a masterpiece, it was littered with some scorching tunes ("What Doesn't Die", "Refuse to be Denied", "Safe Home"), a revamped enthusiasm, a new guitar player with chops and it left me with hope they still had it. After I saw them play a blistering two-hour plus set, I was sold. That is still one of the best shows I've ever seen and to think that it only cost me $15 is nearly unimaginable now.

So, moving on to their latest offering. To say this album is wonderful, majestic and a fucking masterpiece doesn't do it justice. Everything is spot on with this album. Joey Belladona's voice has never sounded this good. He sounds inspired beyond inspiration and puts in an effort that, to me anyway, trumps everything Anthrax recorded with John Bush. The drumming on this record shows you what Charlie Benante can do. He's frequently cited as a progenitor of metal (thrash) drumming and you can see why on this. He just kills it. Scott Ian and Rob Caggiano shred, riff and solo this album into the stratosphere. It's goddamn auditory ecstasy.

I know I've listened to this at least twenty times already. Seriously, it's that fucking good. I have no qualms in saying this is the best, most complete and all-around album they've released. It's got it all and will leave you coming back for more. I cant' say enough good things about this release. I only hope I'm lucky enough to catch them on tour supporting this beast. If they sound like this live, there's no telling how good the shows will be. Rock on and long live Anthrax!!!

It could be you

I remember hearing about an Australian that turned up dead in a hotel here last year but it never got much press, no one seemed to know much about it and I never really followed up on it either. Then, a few days ago, I read something on a totally unrelated forum, it got me thinking and I did a little research. Turns out an Aussie did turn up dead under very suspicious circumstances. So far as I know, nothing was ever done to solve the case—and if there were, no one has said anything about it. Looks like another suspicious and anonymous death abroad. It could be you.

Check it out here and here. Sorry for those of you that can't read Indonesian. Use Google Translate instead.

Another reason to love or hate

http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/jakartajungle/the-bitter-truth-in-jakarta-smoking-in-a-non-smoking-room-is-sadly-normal/462092

Yep, another article on smoking. Like it or not, it's endemic here and probably won't be going away any time soon. Being a rampant smoker myself, I'm not complaining, but apparently other people do. And it's not just Jakarta with their public smoking ban that's a laughing stock. Restaurants or really just about any place that actively and openly prohibits smoking usually won't enforce it. I've only been told to put it out once and that was at Gambir Station in Jakarta. Hell, even then I was outside. I should have known something was up when no one else was smoking. Someone could've given me a heads up but ah well.

Now, this really underscores how big, red "no smoking" signs are enforced in Palembang. So, I'm eating with a rather large group. They were breaking their fast and after stuffing their faces with food and drink, it's time for the smokers to light up since smoking is also forbidden during the day. I've already spotted the "no smoking" sign underneath the fan and am curious how this is going to go down since it was my first time in the place. Being the only one with social graces, I ask. This is how it went down:


Me: Mas. Boleh merokok ngak? (May we smoke or not.)
Server: Boleh. Ngak apa-apa. (You may. No problem.)
Me: Iya, tapi tanda mengatakan ngak boleh. (Yeah, but the sign says "no smoking".)
Server: Benar tapi ngak apa-apa. Merokok aja. (True but it's not a problem. Just smoke.)
Me: Ok. Minta asbak. (Ok. Bring an ashtray.)


And of course after our table lit up, it was like a domino effect. Everyone (well, almost anyway) was puffing away in bliss. I've got to say, it doesn't get much better than that.

Let's take a little look back

Well, I managed to survive my holiday. I obviously didn’t die, no serious injuries to speak of, I didn’t get mugged and I managed to not blow all of my money even though I did go a bit over budget. All in all, I’d chalk it up as a success. Making it to the top of Mt. Kerinci was undoubtedly the crown jewel but Krakatau (well, Anak Krakatau to be exact) wasn’t close behind. Seeing it blow its top again and again and then being able to stand on its shores was a humbling and monumental experience. To say it was worth every bit of money we paid to get there is a vast understatement.

Honestly, we didn’t expect it to be active at all since every bit of news we received was that it wasn’t active—at all. Now, we of course went there expecting to see nothing but when we went around one of the islands about an hour into the journey and I saw the black smoke, I knew what was happening and it was fucking spectacular. I’ve never seen a volcano actively erupt with my own eyes and it was mesmerizing. I couldn’t stop thinking that we were in the same place where an eruption literally changed the world in 1883 with an unimaginable eruption.

All the historical information aside, it was still an amazing experience. To visibly see the Earth spew its guts is something that just has to be seen. Knowing that at any moment that fucker could spew ash and rocks on us at any moment was, well, a bit exciting. Creepy and a tad bit scary yes, but most of the time I just had goosebumps from being there. There is a very mystical air that lingers about and it starts before you even arrive. Honestly, I’d go back again tomorrow if I had the opportunity.

Conquering Mt. Kerinci was definitely more challenging but I can’t say it was any more rewarding. Sure, the views were splendid, the physical exertion was welcomed and the cold weather on the top a welcome change, but it didn’t move me like Krakatau did. When we set up camp, I honestly thought—and subsequently said out loud—“This is going to be my quietest night in Indonesia.” Well, I should have known that would never come to fruition. Not two hours into our attempt to sleep, I saw a massive flash of light and then felt floor-shaking thunder. You can guess what happened after that: yep, it started to rain. When you’re in a third-rate, barely music festival worthy tent, this isn’t comfortable. Add to that the fact that we were literally sleeping under a dilapidated shelter of nothing but steel (read: FUCKING STEEL!) bars with lightning raining down, it wasn’t exactly comforting either.

Now, this little storm did pass but I swear not two hours or so later, I start to hear voices. Now, I’m wondering just who the fuck is up here in the middle of the night and what the hell are they doing. It is Indonesia you know. It turns out that it was another group who, for whatever reason, decided to ascend in the middle of the night. To say that they were loud, obnoxious, ignorant fucks would be putting it mildly. They acted as most Indonesians do with complete indifference to the fact that it was nearly 1.00am, we were obviously in the tent (and probably trying to sleep) and acted like a bunch of wild animals—which I suppose would be appropriate since we were in the forest on a volcano and all. Nevertheless, I quickly realized that even at 3000 meters, you might be able to escape the mosques, but you can’t escape Indo(noise)ia—fuck me.

The transportation problems on this trip were unparalleled by anything I could ever have dreamt up. Sure, transport in this country is generally total shit, but to not be able to cover short distances due to everything being full, landslides, bad roads and idiotic, stupid, uninformed people just about pushed me over the edge. I tried to hold my patience but it was tough. After nearly two days without sleep or even lying down properly to even attempt to sleep, I was a physical and emotional wreck just waiting to blow. Somehow, we finally managed to rent a private car from one of the travel agency owners and got him to drive us to town at the terminus of the rail line. From there, it was relatively smooth sailing to Pagar Alam but my god were we shattered. Then, just to make it 100% Indonesia, our driver (who I must say was a funny, clever son of a bitch) dropped the news on me that a bomb exploded in Lubuk Linggau not one week before. Well, fucking great eh!

Not to be deterred, we procured a very nice, but still rather cheap, hotel that sold over-priced beer with a broken shower rendering it impossible to clean up. After two days of travelling in the tropics, I smelt of everything nasty and hadn’t shaved in well over a week. We just said, “fuck it” and went in search of cold beer to get positively drunk, forget about it all and pass out. After reaching a well-deserved state of intoxication, we managed to waddle to the store to buy more beer, as I wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel, and make it back to the room. I managed to get two of the four down before I couldn’t stay awake any longer and was asleep at something like 3.00pm. I awoke again around 7.30pm, continued the assault on my liver, made a few phone calls, watched it rain and then went back to sleep uninterrupted until the next morning. Yes, it was a great night.

{Interlude of shit that isn’t important or newsworthy.}

Yes, I do realize I’m skipping around a bit but we did make it back to Palembang where things just got, well, interesting in the best of ways. A hot romance ensued, a massive party went down and things went from great to awful and back to great again—wow! I must say that this place always keeps me on my toes. Just when I think it can’t get worse, it gets great and when I think it can’t get any better, it gets worse. I don’t know if that’s the best way to exist, but well, it’s reality for the time being anyway and in some ways, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, this is where things get interesting. It’s about to come down to decision-making time and I can honestly say that I don’t know what the hell to do. If I put my faith in one thing, it’s rather easy. If I follow my heart and do what I want to do, it’s rather easy. However, if I factor in reality and outside opinions, it becomes rather difficult and that’s my problem. I’m beginning to feel exactly like I did last time and that is torn. I’m torn between making an easy decision and a hard decision. I’m torn between staying on the same path or making a change. I’m torn between exploring the unknown or taking the path that’s already known. With everything that’s been said and happened, it’s just not clear right now and I don’t know if it will ever be completely clear either.

I guess it comes down to trust and putting your faith in the unknown. But can I do that? Am I ready to do that? What am I willing to do? What is the other person willing to do? Is it possible to achieve what we want to achieve? These are all things that are unanswerable at this point. I wish there were a clear, well-lit path but there just isn’t. I never thought that at twenty-eight I’d even be thinking like this but I am.

I’ve done some great things here and I know that leaving would be hard. Overall, I quite like Indonesia. Even though it’s not always easy to live here, I’d say that most of the time it’s great. It’s unbelievably hard—and even harder to describe—the difficulties in adjusting to a new country, language and especially culture. The way that things are done here and the way people act are so radically different from anything I’ve ever experienced. From the fist day until now, I still make mistakes. I say the wrong thing, I do the wrong things, I’m misunderstood and misinterpreted and it can be frustrating as all hell. However, I’m trying, I’ve been trying and I’ll keep trying until I get it right. Every learning process has its share of mistakes and this one is no different. I can only hope that my efforts are appreciated and not taken for granted because I’m trying harder than anyone probably knows.

Eh, it seems that I’m beginning to get off topic and get into things that I’d rather not right now. All in good time I suppose. All in good time. I’m off until I have another good story to tell.

Burn it, burn it

Okay, first things first. Why the fuck did I never listen to Mastodon until just a few days ago? Can someone please explain to me why no one ever sat me down, played their records and let me like it? Fuck anyone for not doing that! Anyway, I’ve spent two days engrossed in their music and it’s phenomenal. I guess good things come to those who wait. Not only has it been Mastodon lately either. The new Amorphis album is quite good. While I’m still digesting it, I know it will grow on me like the last three albums have. At first listen, it doesn’t just come out with all guns blazing. It’s got a strange complexity to it and I kind of like that. Once it clicks, I’ll appreciate it more.

Other than that, Sepultura’s new record is just flattening. For me, it’s the best record they’ve done with Derrick Green. Everything fits this time around and it sounds complete. His vocals fit the music perfectly, the aggression is there and if they can keep making music like this, they’ll be around a while. I just got my hands on the new In Flames record yesterday and after the first spin, it’s brilliant. It seems that whatever they’ve been trying to do since ‘Clayman’ came out has finally materialized. I’ve been confused about their direction, sound and what not the past few years but it never stopped them from crushing live. Even the songs from ‘Reroute to Remain’ and ‘Clayman’ blistered live. Either way, the new one is complete, it’s heavy, it rocks, the songs are rock solid and for once, the vocals don’t sound out of place! Well-done gentlemen.

Oh, and how could I forget the new Morbid Angel record? After hearing the intro and the second song, I was cringing. I just didn’t know how it could be that such a brilliant, heavy band could possibly play music like that. However, after track two, it turns into the Morbid Angel of old and it doesn’t disappoint. The riffing, tempos and rhythms are all over the place. The guitars are as insane, quirky and mesmerizing as ever. The drumming is phenomenal and Tim Yeung does a standout job filling in for the recording. Aside from the couple of experimental tracks, it’s amazing and was well worth the long wait. They are extreme and they do push the boundaries. Morbid Angel always has and this record is no different from the others in that respect.

Moving on from music, it’s holiday time in a few days…yay! Or then again, maybe not. My desire for travel and adventure are rather diminished at this point. It’s not that I don’t want to leave here and go somewhere else—oh do I ever—but rather that I’m not too fussed about doing this and doing that, seeing this and seeing that, etc. I’m just happy I won’t have to come to work, sleep in my house, go to the same places and do the same things over and over again, eat some slightly different food, see and meet different people and not be exposed to the lying, gossiping hell-hole that I now call home. Escaping that, if only for a few weeks, will be monumental and will hopefully restore me to a peaceful existence. I don’t think I’ll catch up on sleep or regain my health, but it can at least be a start.

That said, I’m so fucking lazy this time around that I haven’t even bought my plane tickets yet nor do I even know where or when I’m leaving. It sounds insane but it would be true. I want to go tomorrow afternoon after work but there is a party on Saturday that I’ve been requested to attend—even though I’d rather not—and I’m teetering between sucking it up and going or just fucking off regardless of what anyone else wants. Sometimes that is a hard choice. Basically, I don’t need to push or damage my fragile relationship any further and by doing what I want to do, it most definitely would. Now, there won’t be any alcohol unless I sneak it in, I’ll have to dress up and play the social animal that I’m not, there will be too many people, too many pictures and too much bullshit for me to possibly tolerate. I’ll end up in the back sneaking nips of booze trying to maintain my composure until I get to go home. Oh, how much nicer it would be to be somewhere else.

Now, I can already tell you what’s going to happen. I’m going to show up next to my all dolled up other half and be subjected to staring, gazing, gawking, whispering and what not before I even enter the gate. When I get in there, it will be the usual social bullshit that goes on at things like this:

            I: Where are you from?

            B: I’m from the US.

            I: Where’s that?

            B: America.

            I: Oh wow! You’re from America? Do you know Obama? He’s my brother…hiks hiks hiks!!!

            B: No, I’m sorry I don’t. I’ve never met him. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even vote for him! I think he’s a quack President, a liar and no different from any other politician in my beloved homeland.

            I: I don’t understand.

            B: Of course you don’t. I’m getting a phone call and I want to go get some ‘pempek’. See you later doll.

Ugh…put the gun in my face, aim high and let the lead fly. Later, when I happen to run into some other moron, it will go something like this:

            I: Where are you from?

            B: America (I’ve learned this is easier than speaking correctly)

            I: Wow! How long have you been in Indonesia?

            B: Almost two years.

            I: Yeah, that’s a long time. Do you like it here?

            B: Sometimes yes and sometimes no.

            I: Are you married?

            B: No, not yet.

            I: Any plans to get married?

            B: No, not yet.

            I: Do you want to marry an Indonesian girl?

            B: I’m not sure yet.

            I: Any kids?

            B: No, not yet.

            I: So, you’re alone here?

            B: Yep. I came alone, I live alone and I’m rather happy like that as I don’t have anyone telling me what to do, when to go to sleep, when to wake up, what to eat, how to dress, cut my hair, etc. It’s phenomenal living by yourself wouldn’t you agree?

            I: Huh?

            B: Yep, I thought so. Oh, look at the time. I better go get some more ‘pempek’ before it’s all gone. Talk you later.

Ugh…kill me again. I could give endless examples of the banalities but I’m quite sure you get the point. Now, if all I’m getting out of this is a free meal, what’s the point? I can eat something simple, filling and equally delicious for 15.000 rupiah and not have to put up with any bullshit either. I know which one I’d rather do but sometimes logic dictates we make the more logical choice no matter how horrid the results may be. If I can just get intoxicated enough to not appear or smell intoxicated, I’ll be fine. If I can’t do that, it will be miserable.

Also, there will be so many stupid hot women (god willing, older as well) there that it will be tempting to do something completely retarded. If I’m just a wee bit pissed, I’ll only think about doing it. If I’m completely pissed, I will do it. If I’m not drunk at all, I’ll just sit and brood over it and be miserable. You see, I’m in a tough spot goddamnit!

Anyway, that’s about all that’s happening my way. Hopefully I’ll have some good stories and nice pictures when I get back in a few weeks. I’m undecided on whether or not to take my laptop with me. I need to service or buy a new battery so I might haul it along with me and take care of that in Jakarta. Regardless, if I don’t, I’ll update as soon as I can. So, I’m off to try and find some way to fill my time until 3.30, as I have nothing—and I do mean nothing—to do today. I forgot to use deodorant so I’m already sweating and smell like a shithouse rat. Eh, fuck it right. I’m not trying to impress anyone any more.

P.S. I'm unsure why the formatting is so fucked up. I copied and pasted it from Word but it looks as is something went awry. Anyway, I'm too hungover and tired to care about fixing it so my apologies for the sloppiness. 

The Preciousness of Life

Today was definitely one of the saddest days I’ve had recently. Last night I got an SMS saying that a student had died. I knew nothing except when and the name. Today, we had class as usual until 11.00 and then everyone from SMP (Junior) piled into students’ cars and took off for the funeral. Being a Muslim, he had to be buried within twenty-four hours so there isn’t much time for anything. It’s quite different from any other funeral, but it doesn’t change the fact that a twelve year-old kid died.

Now, I didn’t know what to except because this is the first time I’ve had a student die and the first funeral of any kind I’d attended in this country. It was hot, crowded and relatively benign in my sense of what a funeral should be like. It all happened very quickly. It took maybe thirty-minutes but definitely not any longer.

It cut like a knife seeing kids upset, crying and not knowing what to say or how to feel. When you’re that young, how can you know? It made me think a lot about how volatile life is and how it can go at any moment. If I dropped dead suddenly, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary and while there would probably be a few people sad for a bit, the world would still turn and life would go on as usual. That can be quite an upsetting feeling at times.

Normally I can shake things like this, but this time it stings. I can’t say I was exceptionally close to him, but close enough. He was funny, chatty and I rather enjoyed him in and outside of class. He was kind, smart and seemed to be well liked by most of the other kids in class. Next semester when he’s not in that class, I know I’ll always remember him and why he isn’t there. That will take a while to go away.

I’ve never lost a close friend and I’ve definitely never lost one while I was still young. I’ve lost some family but even at that, not that many. Experiencing death first hand is something that hasn’t happened that much to me. It’s unpleasant and I can’t imagine it will or can get any easier. If anything, it will get harder as I age. I often joke about my own death, not living long and what not but the reality is that I will die along with everyone else. Whatever happens after that—and I’m afraid it won’t be much—is anyone’s guess.

Anyway, on a lighter note, tomorrow is a holiday for me since I don’t have to—and there is no need for me to—take the TOEFL exam. Sadly, all the teachers that joined the extra English class will be racking their brains for hours tomorrow while I am still in an alcohol-induced dream state. Well, since tomorrow is an unexpected holiday, what better way to celebrate it than to sit out back, jam old heavy metal tunes and get smashed. It’s going to be great!

Now, this has nothing to do with health, right? Or does it? My more or less shitty, quasi-sedentary, chain smoking, heavy drinking, light sleeping lifestyle here is going to get the best of me sooner or later. It hasn’t yet, but I can feel my normally astonishing health slipping away. I’m pale, thin, cough a lot, have headaches nearly every day, cuts and scrapes don’t heal (but that could be due to the nasty water) and sleeping has become impossible at times. My focus just isn’t there, my desire for many things that I used to love is gone, I don’t read that much any more, I don’t think before I act and a lot of other stupid things that are signs I’m losing it. Death? Nah, not yet, but it doesn’t make things any more pleasurable.

So, what do I need to do in order to break the spell? First, I need to get my ass somewhere that I can go outside and walk, breathe and not suffocate, fear getting hit by something bigger and moving faster than me and just get away from it all when I’ve got free time. Here, it’s hard for me to just find somewhere quiet enough to sit down, read a book and not get disturbed. You can forget anything better than that because it doesn’t exist. My gym, while good enough, is riddled with stragglers who want to do nothing but smoke, tell me where I can buy hookers and ask me about the differences between Indonesian pussy and pussy from other countries.

You think I’m joking, but I’m not. This is a normal occurrence I’m afraid. Consequentially, I can describe quite well sexual anatomy in Indonesian and I also know the best whorehouses in town—love it! Now, for a devoutly religious populace where sex, showing skin and displaying public affection are taboo, it’s amazing how many people—only men though—ask things like: “How are Indonesian girls?” “How’s the pussy?”; “Is your hobby fucking?”; “Do you like fucking Indonesian girls?” and on and on. Yes, it can be invasive, but I know there’s no intention beyond curiosity and I find it highly amusing. I go right along with it, have a cigarette and just laugh.

It’s very interesting the impression most Indonesians have of Westerners and foreigners in general. While it is true that I do enjoy a deviant, hedonistic lifestyle, it doesn’t make me—and I’m not—a bad person. I find that the majority of people I meet already have this impression and while some find it interesting and intriguing, some use it as a reason to criticize, blame and judge which is beyond ridiculous. Sure, I curse like crazy, I drink, I smoke, I sometimes don’t have any social tack, I spit, yawn with my mouth open, fart, piss outside and so many other things that can be seen as rude but I’m not a bad person. I’m just a fucking dude and if people don’t like that, they can fuck right off. Full stop.

It doesn’t mean that everyone from my country is like me. We’re all different I say. Hell, what is an American anyway? What does an American look like? It’s such a big country with amazing diversity that it’s impossible to say. However, it’s damn easy to tell if someone is Indonesian. It’s a homogenous society as far as appearance goes. Most people are short, thin, have flat noses, black hair and black eyes. There isn’t much more diversity than that. When you get down to language and culture there are massive differences, but most Indonesians don’t look beyond outward appearance thus making it quite easy to get labelled. It’s a terrible place for that. Much worse than the US I think even if it’s not meant as being racist—and for the record, I don’t think it is.

Strange Obsession

Another interesting incident happened today regarding Indonesians and their fascinating way of communicating. A few weeks ago, I took off to Lampung, a city south of here, for a long weekend with my girlfriend. We took the train and it was an overall enjoyable experience all things considered. Now, every so often I would take a break from sitting and go between the cars to pee, just move around and have a smoke. As expected, I met a few characters during my breaks. One fellow apparently took quite a liking to me and we had a rather engaging chat.

Now, he was much older than me so he is automatically granted a high level of respect. We went through the normal line of questioning that permeates each and every first time (and sometimes not even that) conversation. Afterwards, he asked me for my phone number. Now, he wasn’t hitting on me or anything of the sort; it’s just the done thing here. Now, I quickly thought about telling him I didn’t have one or giving him the wrong number. I know, it’s bad to lie, but I didn’t have any desire to communicate with this man again.

Now, had I said I didn’t have a phone, it would have led to a long, protracted line of questioning that would have led to me lying more and I just didn’t feel up to the task. Had I given him the wrong number, he would have rung me or sent a sms that very moment and I would’ve been shamed and branded a liar. I didn’t want either so I just bit the bullet and gave him my damn number. He called it and that was that. I didn’t save it or his name and I thought that was the end of it.

Well, earlier this morning while I was at work, I started getting calls from a number I didn’t recognize. The first ones were while I was still teaching, but it continued when I came back to the office. I have this rule of generally not answering when this happens, so I just don’t. I assume they’ll either stop calling or send a sms which will identify whether or not I should reply, call them back or answer the next time they call. Well, that did happen and here’s what went down:

“Mr. Brori, apa kabar ini, kawan yang waktu ngobrol di KA., Limex waktu ke lampung, nanti aku telpon.”

After this was sent, not ten seconds later, he called me again. Predictably, I didn’t answer and that was the last time he tried ringing or messaging me. I promptly blocked the number in the hope that he doesn’t have five phones and a different sim card for each one. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he did, but that’s just par for the course.

It’s not that I don’t remember the guy, but what else would I have to say? I even forget where he lives, but it’s not in Palembang. Maybe it’s some sort of novelty thing he can brag about: “Hey, I met this foreign guy on the train. We smoked together, chatted a bit and I got his phone number…yeah!” If you think that’s out of the question, you’d be wrong.

No matter the reasoning, it really underscores the fascinating phone number and mobile phone obsession in this country. I would never dream of asking for someone’s number unless I had a reason and actually planned on using it for something productive. This isn’t productive; it’s just wasting time. There’s no point in it and there’s definitely no reason to call me again and again when it should be clear that I’m either busy, it’s not me or I just don’t want to answer. You’d think someone could figure that out, but it just doesn’t happen. Yes, it’s baffling.

Anyway, enough of the phone talk. I guess I could give a little update on life as of late. First off, it’s been absolutely scorching hot the past week. There has been little to no rain and while that means you don’t have to worry about getting stuck in a downpour or a flood, it also means infernal heat. The air temperature has been around 33-35, but the ground temperature has been more like 40 and higher during the day when you factor in the humidity and the lack of wind, trees, green space and the ugly concrete jungle that is an Indonesian city. It makes things miserable sometimes that’s for sure.

There isn’t much more teaching—two weeks only—this semester and I’m quite happy about that. My June holiday will be here soon and I’m ecstatic! I’m going to be leaving here for three weeks and that alone makes me smile. I don’t really care about the destination just as long as it’s not here. After we come back for a little over a month, we get two more weeks for the big Muslim holiday (Idul Fitri or Lebaran) and I’ll be on my way to Thailand unless a better offer comes along. Actually, I may hit Singapore and Malaysia as well, but the bulk of the time will be spent in Thailand. Once again, as long as it isn’t here, I’ll be happy.

I’ve got it counted up and implanted in my brain: only about eight more weeks of actually teaching until my contract is up. There is a lot of idle time and time spent doing other things in between but the principal point is that when I think “only eight weeks” I lose my feeling of dread and hopelessness and perk up a bit. If that gets me through then that’s good enough for me.

I remember back in December and the first of January when I thought that May would never come, much less October, but it’s slowly approaching. I’ve been obsessed lately with thoughts of “what if” and while I know I can’t change anything and I know this wasn’t necessarily a bad decision, I still can’t help but wonder, well, “what if”. Maybe life and work would have sucked terribly in Kyrgyzstan, but I’ll most likely never know now. I do hope to visit one day, but that will most likely be all. I think I can live with that.

I suppose that’s about all there is to say about life as of late. I got to spend the day and night alone last night for the first time in a while and immersed myself in the new Devin Townsend Project album ‘Deconstruction’ and I can happily say it’s a fucking masterpiece. I haven’t managed to acquire ‘Ghost’ yet, but the reviews I’ve read thus far give it high praise as well. It’s safe to say that Devin Townsend is a musical genius and aside from only a few of his projects, I worship the bulk of his musical work.

That said, I’m going to check my e-mail, read the news again and try to knock off some more of my latest book before heading home for the day. So, until next time, enjoy yourselves.

Tick Tock

I’m going on a bender for a while. Yep, I said it. I’m absolutely, positively fed the fuck up with nearly everything around me. Everything I do, say, think, feel and write is just wrong—fucking wrong. Therefore, I’m going to withdraw and just enjoy my serenity alone for a bit. I need it, I want it and I crave it. I want to hole up somewhere alone for a while with nothing but a book, a little food, a lot of booze and just forget about everything.

I don’t know why I think and feel this way. Sometimes I wonder what it is that’s getting me down. Is it work? Is it people? Is it this place? Is it life in general? I haven’t got any answers and I don’t want any answers. I merely want it to go away. I want my happiness and peacefulness back. I want this anger and resentment to leave immediately, but I don’t know what to do to cure it because I don’t know what’s causing it.

I often wonder if I’d be better off now had I gone with my original plan not to return to Indonesia and gone to Kyrgyzstan instead. Maybe I’d be happier and better off, but then again, maybe not. All I know is that now, the only thing I can think about is getting out of this city. I hesitate to say the country, but I don’t hesitate to say this city. It’s slowly killing me in more than one way. How and why someone would voluntarily choose to live here is beyond my comprehension. Maybe if you’ve never known and experienced anything different I can understand it, but for me, I cannot and I never will.

I yearn to fulfil my original dreams again whereas before, I was coasting. I was looking at life from a different perspective, but thankfully my old views have returned and are forcing me to evaluate my life again and, in turn, that is pushing me towards making some radical changes. I want something much better and much more fulfilling than this and I know now that I’ll never find it here. I’ll definitely never find it in Palembang and probably not in Indonesia either. I’ve accepted that fact and I’ve resigned myself to that reality.

It’s time to make a move whether others like it or not. I’ve got to live for myself and make decisions that are best for me. I can’t allow myself to get mired in a situation here where I’m unable or unwilling to leave. I’ve got to look at life through my eyes and with realistic expectations. When I do that, I see so many other chances and opportunities that are too good to pass up. I just need a bit of time and reflection for it all to become clearer. That time is starting now. Wish me luck.

All Is Well

Well, just to be honest, not much of anything has been going on lately—nothing of much merit anyway. Honestly, it’s the same old shit: fighting with my (ex?)girlfriend; drinking; eating; wasting time; working out; reading and sleeping. Hell, what else is there to do? You know, I can’t think of any time in my life, save for maybe when I was a teenager, in which I literally just wasted time and was not productive at all. Sadly, that’s the fucking norm here and I don’t know what to make of it. It’s one thing I love, but it’s also one thing I hate. Eh, things always seem to be that way so nothing is new I suppose.

On somewhat of a positive note, I have picked up my reading and writing again. I guess I’ve found motivation from my experiences—good, bad, ridiculous and everything in between—and the thoughts and ideas have just been spewing forth lately. Now, I haven’t got around to publishing hardly any of them save for a few video blogs because they are rather personal, private and definitely not appropriate for public consumption. However, I told myself I would make a conscious effort to tone it down for once and make something consumable for the public at large. I’ve started off well enough but we’ll see how it ends.

Anyway, let’s just skip right to the personal shit: my health is quite possibly in the shitter. I never thought I’d actually write that—especially not at my age—but I’m afraid it’s true. I’ve been ill more times during this contract run that I have in probably the past few years. On top of that, I’ve got five more months to go. That’s a lot of opportunities for ills to befall me and I’m sure something will. At the moment, and I’ll be rather candid, I’m worried about cancer. I don’t know why, but I just feel like something bad is going to happen and while this isn’t the worst place to get deathly ill, it certainly isn’t the best either. I’ve lost a lot of weight, I’m not sleeping the best, I drink too much, I’ve yet to follow through on my pledge to completely stop smoking, I’ve got too much free time, too little alone time and far too much stress (self-induced of course) and too many worries to remain healthy. Eh, we’ll wait and see what happens while hoping for the best.

Aside from my physical health, my emotional state has been nothing short of a rollercoaster the past few months. One day, I’m high as a kite and the next day I’m buried in the ground. It’s baffling how that happens, but when you try and date an Indonesian woman, I’ve accepted that this is par for the course. When it’s good, it’s great but when it’s bad, it’s horrible. Unfortunately, we tend to remember and hold to the bad memories much more tightly than the good ones. That’s sad, but I’m afraid it’s human nature.

It’s not that I’m knocking anyone who tries to cross cultures and make it work, but unless you find an Indonesian who has either grown up in a forward-thinking society, has a foreign parent or has studied or worked abroad extensively (all of which I’ve yet to find myself), in my opinion, it’s destined for failure. It’s so much more than just language and culture issues. There are divides so large that I don’t even address them and if I do, I just waste my time, breath and energy. Seriously, it’s a futile effort and I’ve given up. Forward planning isn’t even on the radar. Respect for private time, quiet time and any time that doesn’t involve your partner isn’t even an afterthought. Got a job and responsibilities? Don’t worry because those don’t mean anything either. If you don’t drop it all and respond to that SMS or answer the endless phone calls right then, there will be hell to pay.

I could write a novel about the mobile phone obsession here but it’s so pervasive and part of the culture that it’s sickening. If you go out with your friends, or even your partner, and you expect them to pay attention to you well, you are sadly mistaken friend. Believe me when I say that BlackBerry chat is far more important than you will ever be. Taking a self-portrait in the dark without the flash while locked in a ludicrous pose takes precedence over the other people you’re with and the other people around you. Now, if you happen to send or receive an SMS or telephone call, you’ll be expected to divulge all information about the conversation or you’ll be accused of lying, cheating, keeping secrets or worse. However, if you do the same, you’ll be scolded and ridiculed for being curious and asking too many questions. Make much sense? No, I didn’t think so.

Oh, and if you think your privacy will be respected—forget it. Leave your phone unattended for just long enough to take a shower and all your messages, sent and received, will have been read and forwarded for public discussion later at your expense. Now, logically you will want to protest but if you do, you’ll be told that there’s no way they would’ve known without checking your phone and a whole host of other nonsensical excuses that will leave you confused, mouth agape and head-in-hand. And last but not least, when you want to go out on your own and hangout with your friends, you can forget that as well because it’s assumed that your talking badly and gossiping endlessly and we couldn’t have that now could we? Once again, fail to divulge all information in explicit detail and there will be hell to pay.

Now, I’ve had some good times and good fun (clean and not so clean) in my days but it was never worth putting up with shit like this. I could go on and make a lot of excuses about this and that, but it’s useless. When did the days of having a decent meal, a few beers and a good time end? Has reality somehow passed me by without my knowledge? If this is all there is left, what’s the point? Getting angry for no reason and remaining angry serves what purpose? Inventing problems from nothing and making accusations out of nowhere serves what purpose? Being absurdly jealous, possessive, controlling, demanding, accusative, overprotective, selfish, dominating and clingy serves what purpose? It definitely doesn’t impress me that’s for sure.

I know I sound bitter and what not, but I’m merely being honest. This has been the best experience I’ve ever had in this country and I wouldn’t change it for anything. It has made so many things crystal clear. It would’ve taken me years to realize this many things on my own. It’s the kind of knowledge you can’t get from a book—you’ve just got to live it, see it and feel it for yourself. For that, I am eternally grateful. How the future will shake out is still anyone’s guess, but I’ve got my assumptions. It’s too soon to say too much, but well, I’d say that changes will be in store. Eh, I’ve been wrong before—too many times before.

Drivel

I love reading blogs written by foreigners—of any nationality—that reside in this country. Usually, they are full of pointless bullshit copied and pasted from Wikipedia or Lonely Planet (and word for word at that), ridiculous comparisons and full of preposterous vocabulary mixing that vexes me to no end—whilst also making me wonder how they can criticize the average Indonesians’ English skills.

Anyway, for once, I actually read a blog that I can honestly say I enjoyed. Now, it’s not that I don’t enjoy the occasional blog, but most of them just aren’t that well written. Not that I feel superior or anything as mine probably isn’t that good—but just to be fair, I don’t put that much thought or effort into it—but it’s just nice to come across some true feelings that are properly put together into something logical and entertaining.

Honestly, I could post links to so many shit-filled blogs it would make your head spin. So, why do I read them? Well, quite honestly, I get bored. When I’m at work or at home and have nothing else to do, I read. I figure, hey, I might as well read about where I am, see what other people are experiencing and what not. It sure as shit beats watching TV or wasting my time and money at the mall that’s for sure.

But, I don’t write like that and truthfully, I usually find it incredibly boring. However, for some reason, reading naïve, pretentious blogs written by young, soul-searching, wannabie hippies on a gap year is just thoroughly engaging. Not that they’re all hippies, but you get my point. Why I don’t fancy reading curse-laden tirades like mine is beyond me. I guess it’s true that opposites attract.

I’m not sure what it is about seeing someone document every waking minute of his or her day with precise detail that makes me laugh, but it does. Giving exact totals (currency conversions as well!), temperatures, piss poor translations and the like; it’s all just par for the course. Fuck me, it’s just funny! I always think to myself, “Who reads this shit?” but then I tell myself, “You are, dumbass!” Eh, the whole cycle is comical I guess—to someone at least.

I’ve got nothing interesting or engaging to say about Indonesia or the city I live in unless you enjoy rants and curse words. I don’t feel the need to write about buying fruit, eating, driving around, shopping or going to the beach. Man, all that shit is normal, day-to-day life. Is it really that different anywhere in the world? Eh, no. Everybody eats, sleeps, breathes and exists—we just do it in different places and have different tastes.

But then again, who knows? Maybe I’ll give it a go and see how I feel. It could quite possibly be cathartic in some way. Not that I need any more catharsis than I already have, but anyway. So, I’m going to go have a cup of coffee (price unknown but definitely insignificant), have a smoke (same), chat a bit (free), hopefully score some food (maybe free), sweat (OMG, cause it’s like really, really hot outside!) and fuck around (free as well) before I get to go home by motorcycle (sort of free). Eh, actually, this isn’t working.

“Fuck You!” Technology

Yeah, that just about sums up my thoughts rather well. Now, don’t get me wrong, I embrace and use technology just as much as the next person, but maybe it pisses me off and makes me angrier than the average person—especially when it doesn’t work properly. Honestly though, who knows?

Anyway, a good example would be how I buy a fancy, new modem that’s supposed to work great, be great and just fucking work. I had a few hiccups at first—like everything in this damned country it seems—but yesterday afternoon, I finally had the fucker humming along as advertised. I swear, I’d actually go so far as to say it was actually a bit fast. It’s a stretch I know, but all things considered, how could I think otherwise? However, later in the night, it just stopped working. There was no indication of a problem, no disconnect, no flashing lights; it just stopped working. Dead, dead, fucking dead.

Now, I had just reloaded the credit on the SIM card. I had just upgraded the package. I had just used the damned thing for two hours, but when I went to log on again, nothing. Obviously, this made me angry and I voiced my distaste with a string of impolite, curse-laced tirades, which plainly did nothing, but it felt good nonetheless. The thing is, it just feels as if I’m throwing away my money. Not that it’s all that expensive to begin with, but still. Nobody wants to buy something, plan to use it and then have it not work. Hell, that’s just human nature. It’s akin to paying for shitty food and knowing it will be shitty beforehand—it doesn’t make any sense.

End of that rant and now, moving on. Another thing that really chaps my ass is how people can’t seem to function without this wonderful technology. It’s as if it makes life measurably better and is something you just can’t live without. Without trying to be modest, that’s a load of fucking horseshit. If you think that you can’t eat, drink, cook, talk to your friends, drive anything, walk, study, teach, read, listen to music, exercise or any other action without a fucking phone of some sort either in your hand or on your person, you are out of your goddamn mind. Honestly, I don’t think I need to expand on those thoughts. That should be crystal fucking clear.

I could easily go on an endless tirade about how stupid, self-centred and a whole host of other insults I think people that are mindlessly attached to their phones are, but I’m not going to. I’m going to resist judging, categorizing and cutting them down to size, because who can fault them when everyone around them is doing the same thing? Everybody else is smoking, so why not join in? Everybody else is drinking, so why not join in? Everybody else is being rude, pretentious and showing complete social ineptitude, so why not join in? It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?

Honestly, every time I use a BlackBerry, or anything similar, I usually bang around on it for a minute, get frustrated because it’s mindlessly too complicated, throw it down in disgust and return to my trusty, always functioning, nearly indestructible, equipped with a long-lasting battery Nokia. It sends and receives SMS and phone calls, which is all a phone is good for, and I fucking love it for that reason. I’ve got a camera if I want to take good pictures. I’ve got an iPod for when I want to listen to music. I’ve got a laptop when I want to type something or use the Internet.

As you can imagine, my camera takes superior pictures. My iPod has more storage, is easier to use and has superior sound quality. My laptop is faster, easier to use and much better equipped than any phone I’ve ever seen. Eh, but why keep all these separate items when I could cut them all out for one magic device? Well, I don’t think I ever use them all at the same time and I can’t remember a time when I did or even needed to either. But, once again, this is mindless follower logic, so it’s probably best if I don’t follow.

Anyway, I’m going to wrap this up with a few thoughts, which are more or less digs and stabs. When you take your photo in the mirror with a mobile phone—especially sans shirt—you aren’t cool, you’re a fucking moron. When you take a picture in the dark, with a mobile phone and without a flash, you are a fucking moron. You should’ve brought a camera to the concert, dipshit. When you have more than one phone—especially more than one phone in the vein of a BlackBerry—you aren’t cool, you’re a pretentious schmuck. If you’re so fucking important that one phone isn’t enough, you need and should have an assistant or two. You aren’t cool, you aren’t trendy and you aren’t in ‘the in crowd’. You look stupid, foolish and are fodder for my jokes and putdowns. So, if you agree or don’t agree with this post, please reply and tell me why. However, don’t expect a speedy reply because I don’t have my e-mails forwarded to my phone so I can’t reply while I’m taking a shit or something else that requires much more attention and is far more important—so you’ll just have to fucking wait a bit!

I’m Not Even Going to Pretend to Understand

Why do I seem to have a headache every day? Why can’t I seem to sleep at proper times? Why does it seem to rain every time I want to go somewhere or have something to do? Why do I continue to eat massive quantities of chillies when I know that the next day I will be in horrible gastrointestinal distress — otherwise known as ‘the shits’? None of this makes any good sense. Actually, nothing really seems to make sense any more.

It’s not always a bad thing either. When weird shit just happens out of the blue, it isn’t always bad. When I get a wad of money for a meeting I (apparently) attended or a class I (apparently) taught, that’s great. I love getting money; especially when I’m not expecting any. When I turn up at a new restaurant and find out that the owners’ son is a friend and I get everything comped (including cigarettes!), that’s undoubtedly fucking great.

However, when I turn up in class to monitor exams and then get dropped a bombshell about searching bags for mobile phones, I’m just miffed. Now, I knew this was going to happen; if not today then one day within the next two weeks. It happened last semester, so why not. Anyway, I didn’t do it last time and I damn sure didn’t do it this time either. I asked the other monitor, “Are you going to search each bad?” and got the answer, “Yes, of course. We might find a phone.” I laughed to myself and thought, “There’s no ‘we’ in this conversation. I’m not looking through anyone’s bad except my own.” I then proceeded to sit back, prop up my feet and read.

Now, if the students already know they can’t bring phones and haven’t been bringing them, what’s the point? Also, if you want to search their things, why not do it when they enter school while you’re checking their belts, fingernails, hair, socks, shoes and whether or not their shirts are tucked in properly? I’m a teacher, not a fucking fashion cop. What would make even more sense is to not let them bring their fucking bags in the first place, but then again, that would make some fucking sense. And who would possibly want that?

In addition to the absurdity of the whole ordeal is the simple fact of privacy. I’m not going to search someone’s bag for something as trivial as a fucking mobile phone. For fuck’s sake, surely there are more important things to consider? Actually there are, so let’s make a little list for clarity. I would say that the following things would take precedence: thinking critically; remembering to bring school essentials (books, pens/pencils, rulers, etc.); following instructions; behavior; not cheating; motivation and actually giving a shit. Call me crazy, but I’d say those things are much more important than a fucking mobile phone.

Now, the hilarity of the situation, for me anyway, is that after searching through every bag — and there were twenty-nine of them — said psycho proceeded to whip out her mobile phone and go on an SMS spree. Talk about hypocrisy. I don’t think you can get a better example than that. All the while, I sat silently engrossed in my book. I couldn’t help but wonder what the poor kids were thinking — if they were thinking at all. Sometimes I wonder if that’s a foreign concept here. Actually, I don’t wonder any more; I’m quite sure it’s a fact.

I’m ranting and I know it, but I can’t help it. The fact that I’ve been idle since 11.00 has brought me to this point. Honestly, what else am I supposed to do for 4.5 hours? I can only read, listen to music and surf the Internet so much. And I’ve got two more weeks of this shit — fuck me. You’ll have to excuse me while I go and slowly kill myself. Take care.

Let's Rock!

One goal down: see an Indonesian rock band in concert. I’ve got to say, it was great. How I’ve managed to go this long without seeing a proper show here is beyond me, but I broke the spell Saturday night and I’m glad I did. No shitty cover bands in dingy, dark pseudo-whorehouses. Oh no, a proper show complete with booze, professional sound and lighting — fabulous! To say that I got drunk and had a blast would be an understatement.

We had a small snafu getting in the club, but nothing that you can’t finagle a bit and get around. The only two guys (friend and I) were wearing sandals and apparently at such a high-class establishment, people don’t wear sandals. No problem we said. We went back to the car and took two pairs of women’s shoes, forced them on, I walked like a hooker in heels (got big feet you know) and entered without a word. Once inside, I promptly changed back into the sandals — sorted.

Anyway, the show was sponsored by Surya 16 (the best cigarettes in the fucking world I might add) and when you bought your ticket, the promo guys and gals literally thrust pack upon pack at you. I managed to snag six. Too bad I’m not a chick and had a purse or I would have taken the whole lot. Only in Indonesia could this happen. Anywhere else, if a tobacco company sponsors something, there are a thousand dipshit groups that come out of the woodwork crying foul and how unethical and wrong it is — bullshit! None of that nonsense this time around, thankfully. The cigarette companies sponsor everything and that’s just life.

Inside, it felt like any other show I’ve been to that was relatively nice. The venue was an enormous hotel here that quite honestly, I usually try and avoid. I’ve been a few times to eat, use the pool and what not, but it’s such a large, gaudy compound and goddamnit, it’s expensive! To make matters worse, it creates horrid traffic for me that greatly increases my chances of death and I happen to resent that as well. Anyway, I caved in and went and it was great. I saw a lot of friends, drank something akin to battery acid that put me in the stratosphere and just had fun. For a few hours I forgot where I was and I need that now and again to stay grounded.

Now, if only we could get some international bands coming round. Granted, I do like some Indonesian bands (Slank, Jamrud, Ari Lasso, Peter Pan), they just don’t do proper metal and damnit, I miss that. I’ve yet to find the metal underground or find out if it even exists. In Jakarta, yeah, I’m sure it does, but I don’t live there so it does me no good. Speaking of Jakarta, they’ve had a string of good shows come through and every time I see the ads, I curse myself for not being there. However, I wonder if being able to attend a few metal shows a year would be worth living in a sinking shithole? Eh, probably not.

Okay, enough bullshit for today. I’m going to go try and enjoy Valentine’s Day. At least tomorrow’s a holiday.

Another Day

Talk about a shitty day. First, my water stopped working. Well, rather the tank was empty and I was unsure of how to operate the two pumps I have, so for the sake of this piece we'll say it wasn't working. Anyway, no water for a day or two is rather bad. If you're unable to wash dishes and refill the water tank to bathe (my shower doesn't work as I don't have enough water pressure), life is rather bad. Regardless, I managed as I always do, went to work and promptly managed to get it fixed. It cost me an hour of my time and a couple packs of smokes — not bad. Yet another reason I love this place: you can pay for services rendered with things other than money. Sugar, cigarettes, food and other various goods work just as well — it's great!

After that, I went back to work, finished out the day and just as I was about to leave, the skies opened and released two-hours of unholy rain. As expected, it flooded afterwards and at some point killed the power as well. No worries for me as I went to eat after it stopped and then back home to change clothes before going to the gym. The power was off, but that's not exactly anything new. Where I live, an hour or two is about all it's out for, so I wasn't too worried.

Anyway, it was already dark, I couldn't see and I somehow managed to bump my security door shut while my keys were still in the main door — whoops. I figured there was no need to get all worked up, so I went on to the gym and started making some calls once I was there. I think I rang everyone I thought could possibly locate a locksmith to come at night, but no answer except from one person and then she gave me bad news. I couldn't for the life of me think of the word for locksmith (tukang kunci — simple enough) so I was shit out as to where to look myself. I figured almost nine, no power, post flood: I'm fucked.

Later, I finally got a message back that someone was coming from school and I naively assumed with a spare key in tow. I went straight back home — where there was still no power and pitch fucking dark — to find that the door was opened, but not with a fucking key. He cut through the security door to get to the main door! Ah well, at least I could get in, take a shower, eat and sleep in hot, sticky misery and bond with the mosquitoes. For services rendered, it cost me a pack of smokes — brilliant!

Honestly, this whole chain of events expertly underscores everything I like and subsequently hate about living here. Sure, the power might be unreliable, the water dodgy at best, horrid traffic and complete anarchy on the road and a culture of things happening so slowly that it makes grass growing seem fast, but at the end of the day, all I can do is smile. I eat great food for nothing, live for next to nothing, basically barter for services, pay people off to do things quicker and more efficiently and more or less live stress-free save for the problems I create for myself. I guess I can't complain all that much.

Anyway, I don't know what the point of this is, but it does feel rather good to write a bit. I've been a bit lazy and unmotivated as of late. However, I do have a slight bit of hope that it will get better. Wait, no it won't. I've been waiting twenty-eight years on that. I don't think it's going to change now.

Blast from the Past

I'm a bit disenchanted with music currently. Well, I guess I should clarify and say that I'm disenchanted with most bands currently making music. Simply put, it's fucking boring. Last year was quite possibly the worst year in recent memory for good music. It was fucking grim. Really fucking grim. So, to keep my ears happy and my mood up, I've been turning to the old stuff for pleasure and boy has it been rewarding. Last night, in another fit of insomnia, I turned to some late 90's Machine Head and it did the trick.

'The More Things Change'came out in 1997, I'm quite sure I bought it the day it was released (yes, we still bought CDs then) and I probably played it non-stop for a month. Yes, I was a huge Machine Head fan in high school. I remember reading a review for their debut 'Burn My Eyes' in Metal Maniacs (yes, we actually bought magazines then) and I made my mom take me to the record store where I promptly purchased the CD for $9.99. I remember the price because it was on sale and I had $12, which was just enough to secure the purchase. Yes, my mother usually made me buy my own CDs and didn't mind. However, my father used to chide me constantly for "blowing all my money on worthless CDs". Consequentially, I thought he was an idiot.

Anyway, I loved the debut, played the piss out of it and couldn't wait for the next album. It took a few years, but fuck me was I glad when it hit the stores. And what a great album it was and still is. Listening to it last night took me back to another time—even if it was only for about 53 minutes. Start to finish, it's heavy metal bliss. In my eyes, it's Machine Head's magnum opus. It's more polished and refined than 'Burn My Eyes', much heavier and better than the two albums that followed it, it was the last album with Logan Mader on guitar, the first with Dave McClain on drums (who is an absolute stud and best experiened live) and has the perfect balance of thrash, melody, riffs and solos. There's no filler, everything is done with a purpose, the songs are unbelievably strong and it has stood the test of time. If I had my iPod with me, I'd be listening to it right now.

So, I'm not so sure what the point of this post is other than that I feel mildy inspired for some odd reason and feel the need to gush about my childhood. Ostensibly, this is about music, but it's probably much more than that. Some albums hold special, sentimental meanings to them—songs as well I suppose—and this is one of those for me. When I hear this album, I'm transported back in time to being 15, rotting away in high school, dealing with my conflicting teenage angst and all that other shit we experienced as naive teenagers. I wouldn't change it for the world though. It's not as if I need an album to remind of that, but it damn sure doesn't hurt when it's this good. Cheers Machine Head!

Oh Christ: Back to the Grind

Honestly, what the hell was I thinking? If I ever accept another job where I must get out of bed at 5.30, someone please shake me, kick me or whatever it takes to make me see the light. Aside from a few drunken antics, it’s probably the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life. Every day that I roll over to silence my alarm, I curse myself for what I’ve done. And it won’t end until at least November—fuck.

There are a few good things about being up early: it’s not hot; traffic isn’t so bad, I feel mildly more productive and I finish in time to enjoy the afternoon. However, is it worth the struggle of rising just before the sun is up? The answer is a resounding “fuck no”. I thoroughly enjoy staying up late and sleeping late. While on holiday, I didn’t get up before 10.00 on any day unless there was a train or bus to catch. Sorry, that’s just how I am. Some things you just can’t change.

I’m finding it a bit tough to readjust this time. It’s not just the sleeping, but a lot of other things as well. It really became clear to me how restricted, tied down and isolated I feel. I guess I never thought much about the insane and archaic immigration laws here until I was gone. Chatting with people working other places really put things in perspective for me. It makes me wonder what the hell I’ve done and why I’ve done it. Not that I anticipate problems and what not, but still. Life can change quickly. You just never know.

If things were to take a drastic shift for the worst, I could potentially be supremely fucked and out in the cold (figuratively of course since it’s anything but that). Anyway, I guess in my periods of boredom, frustration and drunken thinking, I’ve thought of a few thousand scenarios to improve my life—none of which would be so easy all things considered. To make a long story short, I’m stuck for a bit no matter how many ways I try and trick myself otherwise.

Now, is that to say I’m unhappy and looking for a way out? Well, yes and no. On a positive note, my personal life is in the midst of making a massive swing into the positive and if things go well on that front, I’ll probably scrap all this nonsense and everything will be fine. However, if disaster is imminent, it won’t be so easy to sit idly by for much longer. November is a long goddamn way off and I don’t get another long holiday until June. Can I hold out that long? Fuck, I hope so.

I guess meeting some new friends and hearing their experiences got my blood pumping a bit. The excitement has been ramped up, I return and now it’s just a major letdown. Thinking about the future is really all that’s keeping me together at this point. The thoughts of once again living somewhere that hasn’t been brainwashed by religion and how sex, drugs, drinking, rock ‘n’roll, showing some skin and being yourself is inherently a bad thing— you can smoke till your fucking silly, but have a beer and fuck your neighbor, well, your going to hell for that—is supremely enticing.

How happy would I be if I could sleep till 10.00, work in the afternoon or early evening, pop off from work after dark, head out for dinner and some drinks and then come home and do as I please? Man, I’d be as happy as a pedophile at the playground. With any luck, this will happen soon. For now, I guess I’ll settle. Well, until I run out of books to read. I’m fucked after that—and with any luck, literally.

 

Asian Haircuts and Other Odd Bits

There's just something about getting a haircut. For me, it's this rejuvenating, almost spiritual experience. For twenty minutes, I can relax in sheer bliss while my shaggy mop is transformed into something that makes me look presentable. I open my eyes and poof: I'm still ugly, but just a bit less so. It's money well spent.

Now, the best part of an Asian haircut is the obligatory massage that comes afterwords. Now look, I'm not gay, but when it comes from a man, it's just nicer. They are stronger, their hands are bigger (I'm not exactly tiny you know) and it just works well. I felt like shit today. My neck was still aching from the stone mattress I had to sleep on a few days ago. However, after I got my trim, which was absolute perfection I might add, I got the back, shoulder, neck and head massage and now I feel like new. 10 ringgit well spent I'd say and now, maybe something with tits will associate with me since I don't look like a fucking bum.

Anyway, it's raining again. Predictable I suppose all things considered. However, even in this tiny blip of a town, I did manage to do a few cool things. I met a super cool German guy who's banging around SE Asia for three months. With his extremely limited vocabulary and extensive use of 'Mama Mia', we were still able to get on okay, have some laughs and pore over his immaculate maps and find nice places to visit. Fuck me the Germans know how to make a map! They were big enough to use as tablecloths and had every train track, side road, waterfall, cave and museum you could imagine. Absolutely immaculately crafted. I need these.

I somehow found a cheap hotel—not a fucking hostel this time—that was quiet, clean, had an attached bathroom and had a mattress that was long enough for me to sleep on and wasn't made of concrete. The fact that I negotiated the price down to a mere 25 ringgit (~$8) was just brilliant! Fuck, Asia is just great. There was also wonderful food in this tiny town. I ate a few Malay specialities for lunch, had some relatively cheap beer at a Chinese spot and then had the best murtabak I've eaten for dinner. I woke fairly early and found a small roti canai (sorry, I don't know what these translate to in English) shop and had breakfast for a whopping 3 ringgit with a huge teh tarik (pulled tea). Once again: fuck, Asia is just great!

Okay, one more time for good measure: fuck, Asia is just motherfucking great!

Rain...ugh!

It's raining—a lot. I could handle just a bit, but a full day and sleepless night of non-stop, pounding rain is just too much. I'd rather it be sunny and hot. At least I could walk around without fear of drowning and sleep at night. Last night, it sounded like the whole building was going to come crashing in when the rain picked up. It was just sheets of rain. There were no raindrops.

That said, I did get a good walk in around painfully boring Kuantan. For a rather large city, there was nothing going on except the usual. I tried to find somewhere to have a drink, but failed miserably. The only place I entered had no customers, horrendously expensive booze and the music was so loud, I couldn't have talked to someone had I wanted to. Not that there was anyone to chat with, but still. So, I met two Indonesian guys, finally had some proper smokes (Malaysian ciggies are just shit), went for some beers and it was all good—until the heavens opened and ended my decent sleep.

I say decent because I actually managed to get that way. The night before, the pillows were so fucking hard, I thought my neck was broken in the morning. It took me five minutes and stretches before I could move it around. It's sad because that was the only bed I've slept in that has been long enough for my body. They had to ruin it with the fucking petrified wood pillows. Same last night. The bed was just too fucking tiny. I scrunched up, put on some music and was out in no time. I probably would have stayed that way if it weren't for the fucking rain. Of course, once I awoke at 4.00, it was hell getting back to dreamland. So, I feel like ass today, it's still raining and there isn't a goddamn thing to do in Mersing except bang around in the cheapest Internet cafe I've found, eat, walk around a bit and hope I get some decent sleep tonight.

However, I guess I'm getting what I deserve since it is monsoon season and it's supposed to rain a lot. Maybe, but I wasn't going to leave the east coast untouched monsoon season or not. I met one German in my hotel, but so far, that's it here. I guess today is another rest day, laundry, reading and tasting the local specialities. Booze looks like a no-go, so I'll have to try and enjoy it sober. Fuck.

Banging Around Rural Malaysia

Honestly, I think I've enjoyed relaxing and just strolling around these quiet, quaint places more than anything. Well, the jungle and the highlands were amazing, but this is different. I quite like this languorous pace and way of life. I don't give a shit about fancy museums and art galleries, beaches, tacky tourist attractions and cheesy city tours. I just enjoy experiencing a bit of real life and this is fucking great. Walking around aimlessly, stopping for a drink and a smoke, having a chat here and there, giving a smile and a wave—this is where it's at.

Along the way, I've also hooked up with some fellow travellers that make it all worthwhile. I'm young, but there is something about the fifty-year-old, long-term expat that I'm drawn to. They've always got an interesting story about seeing someone decapitated in India, mysterious suicides in Thailand, drunken shenaningans and what not. Most people my age, well, we just don't have that perspective yet—with 'yet' being the key word.

Imagine it: a guy buys a huge Land Cruiser in Australia, ships it to Malaysia and plans to drive it all the way to Kristianstad, Norway. Now, that's balls enough, but taking a route through Myanmar (Burma)—fucking Burma!—Pakistan, Iran and places like that: now that's fucking ballsy. I was half-tempted to ask to join in on the fun, but the Burma part put me off a bit. It sounded wonderful drunk, but now, not so much. Anyway, I wish him the best of luck and hope he makes it unscathed. And remember: write that fucking book!

If there's a bad side to all this, it's that it's quickly coming to an end. Four more days and I'll be back in my big, boring, polluted, chaotic city—which I also strangely adore—and all this will be a fading memory. Yes, it sucks, but that's life. No more heaping plates of delicious Indian food, no 'teh tarik' (pulled tea) unless I make it myself and pork will once again be a rarity—damn it! While we're on the topic of food, on the east coast I've finally been able to get proper, fresh coffee and not the shitty Nescafe and what not in sachets. Christ, that stuff is terrible. Anyway, they roast the beans in palm oil and sugar. It sounds disgusting, but the resulting flavor is distinct and quite nice. It's got a powerful, thick, smoky flavor and I'm beginning to adore it just to be honest.

Kota Bharu didn't have much going for it in terms of being lively, but there was some wonderful food, I met the most interesting travellers there and I just enjoyed hanging out and taking it easy for two days. I also met a diehard Malaysian metal fan too, which was just great. I don't remember the last time I had a proper chat about which band is heavier, what genre do they fall in and who is the best metal guitarist of all time. Just fucking great!

Kuala Terengganu, where I am now, is about the same. There isn't much going on, but I'm enjoying myself nonetheless. "But why are you writing blogs in an Internet cafe" you ask? Well, it beast meandering around in the pouring rain that's for sure. Anyway, I already had a wonderful Indian meal—spiciest and cheapest one thus far—and the food courts and stalls in Chinatown are apparently going to be hopping tonight, so I can't wait for that. Pork guts and beer—yummy! I love the Chinese.

Dripping with Piss

Penang—fuck me. It's the first place I've really thought that sucked. And to think, I was looking forward to there as much as anywhere I had planned. Just as an aside, the town names there just fascinate me. You've got Butterworth and Georgetown, which are both unbelievably non-Malay. I didn't visit the museums and what not (sorry, museums are just painfully boring), but I'm sure it has something to do with the British. Maybe it's holding on to that heritage, but you'd think the place names would be updated. Anyway, it's not as if it matters; just something I noticed.

Now, as far as Penang being a bit more Asian and more what I expected Malaysia to be like, it definitely fit the bill. The traffic was chaotic, sidewalks were either nonexistent or just disappeared, people drove every which way and seemed not to obey any traffic laws, there were open sewers (got to love that), sleeping too late was impossible without earplugs and livestock roamed the street. In that respect, it was just brilliant. However, it was too touristy, tacky, the food extremely over-hyped and I just didn't enjoy myself all that much. As with most things though, there is always a reason.

First, my hostel/guest house. It was sickeningly cheap, clean and well-maintained. The owner was nice enough at first and I thought all would be well: that was until I tried to charge my iPod on the provided computer. This mope went apeshit. He starts ranting about "the signs that say 'no downloading'" and I'm explaining that I'm not downloading a goddamn thing. I just want to charge the battery on my iPod so I can listen to the fucking thing while I spend the next day in gridlock traffic to the jetty, sit in the bus station for for hours and then sit on the bust for six more. I thought it was clear, but apparently not.

Then, to make matters even worse, it just had to piss down the rain the day I decided not to carry an umbrella or my rain jacket. As expected, I was soaked to the bone. I saunter up to the entrance, where he was sitting as usual, and make a comment about getting stuck in the rain—what else can you say, right? I step up on the perch, which is right by the road and was subsequently getting wet as well, and he tells me not to come in as they've just cleaned. No problem for me. He brings me a towel, tells me to dry off, wipe my shoes and take off my shirt and ring it out. I do as told and he goes fucking bananas when I ring the shirt out. "Oh no! We just cleaned. You're getting the floor wet. Oh no!". Well, for fuck's sake mate, what is my option? I could step back out in the downpour and ring it out, but then it will just be wet again. I just shook my head, went for a shower and had a lie down. What else can you do?

Now, this was all on New Year's Eve mind you, but I wasn't about to let it go down the shitter just because of some rain and a bitter, old cunt. I did the sensible thing which was to go eat and get drunk—always works wonders. The best thing about going to a massive food court—which was the best food I had—and drinking alone is that you don't stay alone for very long. Sure enough, in no time I had two Germans that were more than willing to imbibe with me. We ate, we drank, they ate some more, I drank more and then we moved on to an open-area bar for more drinks and to see the fireworks.

We ordered a three-liter tower of beer—ostensibly to look cool and manly, I guess—which was absurdly expense by Malaysian standards. Never mind though; it was New Year's and I just said, "fuck it". We hammered through a good chunk of it and then got up to see the fireworks. It was just to the right at an intersection with a clear view to the hill. Everyone else—that could still walk—got up and went to one side or the other as well to see. We came back and there were three fat, sloppy, obviously drunk slobs (Malaysian slobs I might add) in our seats—and the fucking beer was gone. Before I could say a word, the German woman went mad on the poor waitress. I don't think she understood anything she said which probably didn't help. There was a fair bit left and considering the price we paid, we weren't finished drinking. I was rather pissed already, but more beer just seemed appropriate.

Anyway, the one brain dead twat didn't do anything and neither did the other slut we pleaded our case to, so we decided to leave and let things be. The three drunks were oblivious to it all and probably couldn't have told us what day it was. In the ruckus, the German guy disappeared and just for the record, we didn't find him even with his bald head and bright yellow shirt. Sad really as he was super fucking cool.

Now, I might be an asshole—actually, I am—but I think my revenge was justified. Hell, I was drunk, so anything seems justified. Anyway, in the back of this bar, there were massage rooms. Don't ask me why, but I'd say it either doubled as a whorehouse or was a legit business during the day. I had to piss horribly as you do when you consume copious amounts of alcohol. Instead of pissing in the toilet, I wet their beds. It was amazing. Full stop. Fuck you for nicking our beer.