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.