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Sie Jin Kwie

2010-02-15T03:28:00.000-08:00

A young hero by the name of Sie Jin Kwie (or known as Xue Ren Gui in Mandarin) appears in the dream of Li Si Bin, Emperor Taizong of the Tang Dynasty. Sie Jin Kwie then rescued him from certain death. Li Si Bin became curious, he wanted to meet the Dreamed Hero. He would do anything to meet Sie Jin Kwie.

Setting: In the Middle of 7^th century China.

Synopsis: from the accompanying booklet

At about the same time, Ko Le Kok country, a commonwealth of Tang’s empire was facing a though time. The King who was technically dethroned by General Kae So Bun was forced to declare a war with the Tang Empire.

As a good citizen of Tang, Sie Jin Kwie, who was well trained in martial arts enlisted himself in the army. Devoid of any ulterior motive he simply wanted to fight for the glory of the kingdom. But because of the lies told by Army Commander Thio Su Kwie –who loves to claim other people’s chivalrous deeds as his own- Sie Jin Kwie then was led to believe that the Tang’s Emperor wanted to eliminate him. So the young man stayed low and worked in the imperial army kitchen while slowly building the very formidable Kitchen Army of Tangs or KA-Tang.

Unexpectedly, KA-Tang soldiers become the most accomplished heroes of the Ko Le Kok War. But nevertheless Thio Su Kwie was still keeping Sie Jin Kwie secret under his wings, even concocting a murderous plan to befall upon the young hero. What fate will Sie Jin Kwie meet in the end? Would Emperor Li Si Bin able to meet him?

This is a story of heroism, chivalry, patriotism and the sincerity of a young man to fight for one’s country amidst the running corrupt officials. Beautiful costumes blended with dazzling dance numbers, unique musical treat, presenting an entertaining show, yet still meaningful and contemplative. A drama, blended in Chinese Opera style, Golek Menak, Potehi Dolls (Bu Dai Xi), Wayang Wong and the ingenious Wayang Tavip.

Performing in Graha Bhakti Budaya, Taman Ismail Marzuki, Sie Jin Kwie is the 119^th production of Theater Koma, to commemorate its 33^rd anniversary. Until Feb 21^st, 2010.

My Take on This:

Lovely, enchanting, and motivational. A way to return to the cultural history that was long forgotten (or forbidden) by the descendant of Chinese people living Indonesia. Somehow when the “universe” had chosen a great task for you to do, no matter how your feet would lead your ways, a star will eventually be born.

See how delightful Dalang Tavip brought back the historical Sino-Javanese leather/ paper puppets to life with his own Wayang Tavip creation. He ain’t no ordinary dalang as he put the experimental modern lighting, curving screen and his mastery on controlling shadow puppets created this amazing colorful puppet show extravaganza. The historical Sino-Javanese puppetry died out since its banishment in the Suharto era, now securely locked in Jogjakarta’s Puppet (Wayang) Museum.

Sie Jin Kwie – Ceng Tang/ Eastern War, the play was the first installment of a trilogy. The second of the series, Sie Jin Kwie – Framed, will be performed in 2011. The third of the series, Sie Jin Kwie – Ceng See/ Magical Land will be performed in 2012. Go watch this one now or you’ll be sorry later!

I really enjoyed the musical treatment that was going on the entire show. Traditional Chinese music would meet Javanese gamelan then went on Rocking and Rapping in a hip hop style, not to mention some very jazzy number and romantic ballads.

The grandiose set was amazing, the movement was very fluid, and everything was deliberately done. It was a very nice way to spend 4.5 hours in the theater (an intermission break included) on the same day that I was celebrating Chinese New Year earlier with my family.

Happy Tiger Year everyone! Gong.

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Images are from personal collection © 2010

Fried Rice Explained

2010-02-01T07:36:00.000-08:00

“If you knew you were going to dump me like this. You shouldn’t even agree to be my boyfriend in the first place” he said in agony. That statement on the other hand somehow stupefied me. How would I knew back then? Then I remembered a very nice lesson. A long time ago, while helping my grandmother cook the best traditional fried rice in the world, she in return said something very enlightening.

“Cooking is not so much different than relationships,” she said.

For the best possible fried rice, here you fridge the steamed rice overnight, choose the most tender chicken breast, select the freshest shoots of spring onions, prepare your fresh eggs, chilies, garlic and shallots. On the side you’d arrange your regular kitchen spices. Here we have salt and pepper, chicken powder, unrefined sugar, soy sauce and you may even have a bottle of fish-sauce handy.

“Now that you have the best ingredients available around you, how can you be sure that whatever you’re cooking is going to turn out great?” she asked. “First of all the temperature had to be right” she continued while heating up the frying pan and splashing some cooking oil, getting ready for her chopped garlic to jump first at the almost boiling point. I could hear the happy sizzles from the pan.

I then was assigned the task of marinading the chicken breast with salt, pepper and some other spices. After that I would have to mix the steamed rice with the spices, sweet soy sauce and two raw eggs by hand. Meticulously she then removed her garlic from her frying pan and poured the sliced spring onions in the hot oil. Heavenly smoke then started to fill the kitchen, especially when the diced chicken breasts joined the onions in the pan.

“Perfectly golden brown,” she said after a while, removing the chicken and onions to another plate.

The spiced-up rice went in immediately after a hot batch of canola oil was ready. I busied myself stirring and incorporating our Sunday brunch fried rice.

“Now taste it,” she asked me.

“Hmm, something is missing here. It’s still flat”

She then gathered her remaining ingredients, her chilies, her golden brown chicken and onions and shoved everything into the frying pan.

“Now try again…”

“Wow, it’s certainly kicked it up a notch, but Grandmamma.. Try this… Something is still missing”

She tasted our cooking, gave it a thought for a while and then she whipped up her secret ingredients. A spoonful of sugar.

“Wow Nana, now it’s perfect. It’s perfect!” I screamed exhilaratingly.

“Back to the story my child,” she continued.

“Imagine that you started a relationship with the best possible ingredients to begin with. And then you forgot to spice it up. What happened to your cooking?”

“It tasted flat”

“And even if you added all those extra efforts of spices, did it guarantee that it was going to come out delicious?”

“No, Nana, you still need to add a degree of sweetness” I replied.

“There you have it”. She smiled lovingly.

So don’t expect too much if you forgot to spice things up. Don’t ask for forever if you didn’t hear my callings to sweeten things up then and again. Don’t just rest there in your comfort zone and pray that everything was automatically going to come out delicious.

Just because we had the best ingredients to start with.

Not cooking tonight,

Prof. Utonium

The Inevitable

2010-01-20T11:07:00.000-08:00

“There, I laid everything on the table already. Now do you guys think that he’s still in love with me?” This might as well be a tricky question I thought. Every storyteller wanted her audience to be on her side. The tricky part was: That day, nothing would please the storyteller ever. Especially when it was about Chacha (his street name), one of our dearest friends.

She was a little bit shaken when we met her. She didn’t cry. But we could see some type of anguish in her face. She looked confused, disoriented, and disappointed.

“Well to begin with, we never met as often as our usual arrangements”

Maybe he was busier than ever.

“It’s okay if he couldn’t give me the weekend. Yet he promised to see me every other day during the weekdays”.

We told ya it wasn’t easy dating someone who was legally married with kids.

“But that’s not the point, I don’t mind the non-weekends. But now he doesn’t seem to wanna spare any tiny time for me anymore”

Okay.

“It took him several hours now to reply my messages. And it’s always just a short reply, no more effort it seemed would be done from his side”

Well first of all that was why it was called the short messaging services. Second of all, maybe he got tied up in some new projects.

“I knew his work, I knew his schedules. He was far more busier before than nowadays! But back then he was able to send me cute hellos and he was able to reply my messages in a promptly fashion”

Okay.

“Then I met him like 3 days ago. We had dinner. I showed him the messages from some annoying bastard. Someone, who tried to seduce me even though I clearly stated that I was taken”

Oh, really?

“Yes, and my boyfriend was like: You know, since I may not give you the time that you deserve, why don’t you look into that possibility?”

What kind of reply was that! Bastardo.

“I am so confused with his reply. Whatever could he meant by that?”

My beau insisted that maybe he (Chacha’s beloved) was trying to open the gate of “open relationship”-ity. But I simply kept my silence. Couldn’t you people see? Something went awry. It was a trick. Nothing magical by any mean. He knew damn well that Chacha was a respectable monogamous lady. It was simply a trick to get you thinking: Is it time to move on?

“And suddenly he made a confession. That before he was with me, he was a pretty naughty boy. And the scariest of them all was, he always did it bareback! Can’t you imagine him telling me these things now?”

Darned you. Yet, exactly my point. Just like on the chessboards, he had already started moving his pawns. Better get ready girlfriend. Have a counter strategy handy.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. Well, to tell you the truth these matters really clouded my mind. I stopped having euphoria when he was in bed with me (a.k.a dysfunctional specific bodily-organ). It started like a month ago… When he began to have his awol mode like this, when he stopped replying to my concerns…”

Woman. Maybe you have to face the inevitable. Why don’t you start packing? Or vice versa. Maybe you should listen to him. Maybe he had a very good reason to do such and such.

“I think I still love him though…” she concluded.

Then ask him the truth. What does he want out of this?

Prof. Utonium

And the Award Seasons Began!

2010-01-18T09:59:00.000-08:00

Starting with the Golden Globes, which was held in the Beverly Hilton, el Lay, the Award Seasons 2010 began. Now for you movie buffs, please click here for the complete Golden Globes Award Winners List.

And for the rest of us.. Dahleng, it's all about the dress!

THE GOOD LIST

Cameron Diaz.
Now this was the sexy vixen I remembered from the Mask.
Alexander McQueen did an amazing magic on her.

Christina Hendricks.
Somebody just stole the red carpet with that golden glow,
and she didn't have to be blond!
Kudos Christian Siriano for this gorgeous item.

Courteney Cox.
A proof that black could be very refreshing indeed.
Say hi to your cute hubby doll!

Drew Barrymore.
Very classy in Atelier Versace.

Kate Hudson.
Astonishingly silky in Marchesa.

Tina Fey.
Love this cute girlie outfit.
Very 1950-s ball.

THE BAD LIST

Amy Adams.
I enjoyed Amy Adams. I admired Carolina Herrera.
I respect pregnant women. But what was this about?
Shame on you Carolina!
She looked simply fugly.

Calista Flockhart
in Alberta Ferretti.
Somebody feed the girl.
Harrison?

Glen Close.
Oh I don't know. Maybe it was your biceps and triceps?
Maybe it was your fake golden tan? Maybe it was the shimmery number
which resembled a shimmery wet lizard getting out from the swamp.
Something was just wrong. Something was just missing.

Lea Michele (Glee).
Maybe this was one of your first award ceremonies,
so I would forgive you.
Xena the Warrior Princess wanted to be Odile,
the black swan, for the upcoming performance in the Met.

Mariah Carey.
Why didn't you just flash them all out together!
Your boobs were distracting
(and they were like taking over 2/3 of your pose).

Penelope Cruz.
Was it the black umbrella? In this Armani,
I felt like she wanted to be sexiest (with laces) -
mummified (in ribbons) mourner in a funeral.

Zoe Saldana (Avatar).
I thought you were interesting as a blue
N'avi creature Neytiri.
But this makes you look like a drenched purple cat.
Cute dress though too much ruffles!

Next time better,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: All Images were from Getty Images © 2010

You Know My Methods, Watson

2010-01-17T11:05:00.000-08:00

Yes Sherlock darling I know your unusual methods. And no darling, sometimes I just don’t get you. So many times I felt like you’d die when we were apart. Now admit it, you did break down a couple of times. And you seemed to be apparently lost without me. You would even appear to be, how do you phrase this nicely... extremely envious, if I was in the arms of my woman. I am your friend, your brother, your man. If it weren’t for your never-ending interest in that bitch Irene Adler, I’d think you did fall for me. For my charm, my loyalty, and of course, my cute arse.

- from the unpublished journals of Dr. Gay Watson.

This rendition of Sherlock Holmes directed by Guy Ritchie could be the sweetest rendition of Holmes that I’ve ever seen. Certainly was not the usual nerdy Holmes that I would imagine. He wasn’t some skinny old man with a hunting hat, a smoke pipe, and sometimes accompanied by a detecting canine. Today’s version of Holmes is a mature hawtieee, a combination between brain and brawn, who didn’t “slip” away from his enemies. Yes, he fought right on, battle to battle, with nice martial-art skills as well.

Watson couldn’t be better as well. Here he was cute, smart, agile, and most of all, he really kicked ass! I wish they’d insert like at least one steamy scene when Sherlock finally was about to confess his undying love for Watson. Which they would then caress and kiss each other so passionately in a messed-up attic, somewhere in the brownstones of Baker Street.

Good flick. Fast actions. Lot’s of scattering clues to unveil (for you detective fans). Furthermore, I enjoyed the soothing blue-ish hue that appeared through the length of the movie, acting as some sort of mood-maker/ atmosphere. It reminded me of the “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” (2003) where good story telling and great actions met charming fashion and high-style.

Oh, I want that bed. No, I want this entire room. So princess-ey. With Sherlock spread-eagled, exactly like this. Tied on the bed posts. Then we can play a little game Sherlock.

Now close your eyes. Let Mama blindfold you.

Prof. Utonium

Update (Jan.18.2010): Congratulations Robert Downey Jr. and Sandra Bullock for winning the Golden Globes 2010!
Robert Downey Jr. snatched the Golden Globes for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture, Comedy or Musical from his role in Sherlock Holmes. And respectively, Sandra Bullock won Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture, Drama.

I knew that fake British accent would land you one darling!

Copyright: The Title : "You Know My Methods, Watson” was quoted from "The Crooked Man" from The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (1893) by Arthur Conan Doyle © Doubleday Publishing. Opening Image: IMP Awards © 2010. Scene Image: Theiapolis People © 2010. Award Image: Getty Images © 2010.

Fifty Percent Off

2010-01-14T11:00:00.000-08:00

A while ago I bought this book from Aksara. As a passionate Paulo Coelho fan, I actually refused to buy this very edition that was widely available in the market. My reason was simply artistic: This was a large print edition, which of course wouldn’t sit nicely on the bookshelf with my other paperback-sized Coelho-s. (I know I am crazy). But whew, Aksara did change my mind that fateful day. All they did was just applying a nice little red sticker that read: 50% off. There they’ve changed my buying behavior on the spot.

Then it was sorta collecting dust on the ever-growing “books to read” pile until Mr. Beau picked it up. “Jiahhh, you finally bought this book! You should read it, I was just reading the local version. It was certainly different from the Paulo that you might know!” he claimed.

Wow, that fast eh? I didn’t know how Gramedia managed to do its magic in only several months. Before long I would spend the next 3 days finishing off the particular piece. Then I realized that I was attacked by this heavy migraine. Still unsure that the headache came from reading the book or from the “Jiahhh” expression that my Beau had utilized too much lately. But I knew that I was really, really disturbed.

High Alert: Spoilers for those who intend to read this book.

Paulo indeed introduced a very different style of writing this time. The use of a fast-paced thriller approach somehow eliminates the “teacher” technique. The teacher style he rampantly used to enlighten us, his disciples, previously. However, this new writing might also gain more public audience onto his regular reader, a.k.a people (who’s struggling to get) on the path of their personal illuminations.

A little too documentary for me to be read as a novel. As if he wanted to show a proof of how ignoramus a humani can be. Followed by their fatal consequences if the ignorant should keep his ignorance. Thus becoming the main disturbance for me: This novel was very dark, almost as a flip-side of what he’d preached normally.

As if it was bad to work hard to become a very unique model. As if being a great actress was just for people whose only aim was visibility. As if it was wrong to finally place yourself in the world of the Superclass. As if all movie-distributors would be financed by dirty money in one or other cases.

Wasn’t he the one who preached: Nothing is impossible if you really work toward your goals? Well, if this is your way of attacking human’s vanities then I hope that it wouldn’t go in vain rapidly as the world is still transfixed by the world of celebrities, glamour and glitz.

I never minded that many other hopeful characters seemed to vanish abruptly to convey his messages. I also didn’t mind that it had a gory ending. Never enjoyed much happy ending movies anyway.

But I did despise the fact that the book had a strong connection to the life that I am leading today.

From the Character Ha:

There was this character Ha, who married this woman Ev. And was so in love with Ev thus he never asked her past, her feelings, her needs, her being with him. Just because he was afraid to lose her. Ev was living with someone who seemed to enjoy the lie. That someone pictured resembled Beau. Someone who’d rather not ask if I was having any problem with him. Someone who pretended that everything was okay. Someone who lived a constant fear of loosing me.

Everything I said was seemingly ignored. Nothing changed. Nothing improved. Nothing transformed. Nothing grew. The flicker then began to die within.

From the Character Ig:

And then there was this character Ig, who did very nasty things in order to get the love of Ev back into his life. He was so in love with Ev, he would reach the top where he thought his achievements would please Ev. His journey to become successful then made their relationship sour. Then Ig slowly became another person, a monster perhaps. Finally, Ev left Ig after her first knowledge of what Ig might do in order to keep the relationship.

Beau also believed that love could transform anything, became the strongest glue to any relationship. He was of course right. But he forgot to acknowledge that even love needed to be nurtured, needed mending, constantly enhancing one another. Just as Ig, he was living in his comfort zone: that Ev was enough for Ig, as I was enough for him. But he never asked if he had ever been enough for me.

At the end Ig killed both Ha & Ev, while he never knew the exact trigger on why she was loosing her feelings for Ig in the first place.

Soon this will also end Beau.

I am dying inside. And you need to know why.

Prof. Utonium

PS. The professor was so disturbed that he stopped reading books at the time this writing was published.

Title: The Winner Stands Alone
Author: Paolo Coelho
Publisher: Harper
Number Of Pages: 368
Publication Date: 2009-04-01
Copyright: Opening Image. Cover of The Winner Stands Alone by Paulo Coelho. HarperCollins © 2009-2010

What Baby Stroller Etiquette?

2010-01-14T06:21:00.001-08:00

For the second time that day he smiled at me. That awfully cute smile that had successfully sent me straight to my own version of the seventh heaven. Yet being the scaredy cat that I am, I was only able to reply with a slight grin on my face as I passed him in the direction of my own locker at the gym. I then gave a sigh. A mixture of relief and excitement. What shall I do now, dear God what shall I do?

And suddenly I heard a woman’s voice walking towards my direction. Somebody was talking on the phone and the voice grew louder. Wait. This is a men’s locker room. Why did they let this woman in? Then before long, appeared this wiry man, busy carrying what appeared to be an oversized gym bag with a mobile phone attached to his right ear.

“You know they should learn the etiquette of using a baby stroller in an elevator!” he screamed to his phone.

This happened to be the same man with the raspy nagging woman’s voice I’ve just heard earlier. His hair was permed in the highlights of dark copper golden blonde, dark ash blonde and a tinge of light auburn shades. (Don’t ask me how I remember these things!)

“Overseas they would carry the baby in one hand and fold the stroller so they’d be able to put more people in the elevator!” s/he continued.

Oh no. Logically, that would be essentially against the purpose of creating any baby stroller. They should liberate you. Not the other way around. Later on I promised meself to google this “etiquette” that he was explaining to the sorry respondent of his phone call.

“So this lady… She just shoved it right in and hit my ankle so hard I would yelp by the wheels. I was just having the most agreeable coffee downstairs at Starbucks. And this bitch, she didn’t even say sorry or what so eva! And you know that I wasn’t wearing anything but this little thong number from Tod’s” s/he bragged.

Then I saw the problem: His/ her little princess ankle got hit by the seemingly hardcore-all season’s-terrain-rubber-wheel of a baby stroller. I would be irritated if somebody hit my ankle with the supermarket cart or the metallic protruding footrest of a wheelchair. And alas, the before mentioned lady didn’t say sorry.

“I will tell the mall to forbid people using any baby stroller in the elevators ever again!” s/he said steamingly.

And what? Make them use the stairs or the escalators? Risking the precious life of the child cradling in the contraption? Why can’t people be reasonable? Shit happens everyday. The highlighted princess shall say something to the shoving lady if s/he was so mad.

“So when I left, I gave her the nastiest look she’ll have to remember forever!” s/he concluded.

By that time I was done finishing my self in the gym’s locker to get back to the office. Ms. Complaints there hadn’t yet brought any end to his/her ventilating to the other side of the phone.

Walking out on the corridor I saw Smile was still sipping his coffee at the lounge area.

“How was your baby stroller?” I grinned at him with joy.

“Aha! You heard that too?” he said.

The baby stroller pick-up line did give me a chance to get to know Smile better.

“Oh here she comes…” Smile said warning me of an impending Queen’s wrath.

“I am even gonna sue them and make them pay for what she did to me earlier!!” s/he demanded.

Swiftly I then rotated my gaze to her/him, which startled the little monster.

Excuse me:

1. The public shall prioritize people on wheelchairs or having baby strollers in the “public” elevators.

2. Use the stairs if you just need to head one flight up or down

3. Give room for the disables too. Oh wait, you are one of them: People get hurt everyday in one degree or another. But you! You are disabling your heart to give such a trivial matter to a rest!

So when I left, I gave her/him the nastiest look that s/he will never forget.

Eat my dust! (Oh, not you Smile darling…)

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2010

Mysteries (and Gifts) of Life

2008-10-22T23:20:00.000-07:00

Finally, the moment that I have been waiting for came upon us. A dear friend of mine, a notorious affirmation-whore (banci kepastian), finally was able to take control of her own life. She was also known as the forever-lost puppy. Seemed to be lacking of self-confidence, she would need guidance in many steps along her ways. And the most irritating part was that she wanted to know exactly what is going on in her future. Will she ever marry the man of his dream? That is if he would ever return to her arms again in the first place.

And Mommy dearest, she seemed to have this utter concern that my brother would not ever be happy with his soon-to-be-wife of a girlfriend. While from my point of view, her worries were the ones that caused all of the dramas in the family. My brother is a happy-go-lucky guy. He seemed to posses the power to be happy so easily. He didn’t worry too much, all he needs to do is face the day with his head up high, enjoying the good and taking care of any obstacle in front of him. And furthermore, I like this girl and I trust that they’re gonna be just fine. Then I wonder why do people worry so much about uncertainties of life. Sometimes even forgetting that today is a beautiful day, one that shall be enjoyed together immensely.

I do have my own future problems to ponder around, business expansions that were good on paper, yet seemed to be slow in reality. Another looming on-going project that needed to be financed as soon as possible, yet we were still unable to get paid on past successful projects. But I choose not to worry so much, because I just knew that somehow help is on its way. I just need to pay a closer attention to the conditions and the supportive people around me.

At least I got one foot at the door, as my dear friend seemed to be able to take certain controls of her wariness. She started performing personal restrains, from fasting, reducing her smoke habits, even controlling her emotions, churning out more gratitude and less on the complaining side. Better, she stopped being angry all the time. I said to her, “Now since you were already able to curb your desires to eat, to smoke, and able to manage your anger, you might just add one more thing on your list that you need to control: The desire to ask what’s gonna happen in the future or your near future… ”.

While basically some tips from the future might boost up confidence in us humanis, I do still enjoy the mysteries of life. I prefer to be kept in the dark sometimes, so the end-result would be as sweet as the journeys that I am taking on my day-to-day basis. Furthermore, somehow I felt that it was just simply wrong to predict, as human being, this didn’t seem to be our privilege to know our future, never was and never will.

Part 2.

And with this freedom to choose my own paths, I recently was introduced to a very peculiar being. Well, actually friendster introduced us (yes, friendster is still alive you people!), while yahoo messenger beautifully handled the second step.

Something cute was written in his “about me” profile: About a happy human being. Ah, finally, someone who thinks that he is happy. A very rare breed that you don’t see around us lately. I found him as insane as myself (in a happy crazy insane way of korz). Someone who wanted to keep his big secret, that the Last Emperor of China is still alive (i.e himself). Eventhough, I had this impression that Pu Yi died in the arms of his second wife, Li Xin, a commoner, sometime in 1967. Well, if he was still alive, at least it would explain how he was so knowledgeable of the 70-s era. Things that I wouldn’t be exposed to as I was just a mere toddler.

“But you seemed to know a lot as well?” he defended himself.

“Cuz I too, was born in 1540 in Turkey, at the time when my father helped arrange the peace treaty between Venice and Turkey in the Constantinople Truce”

Ok that was fun, so what’s the big mystery you might ask?

While sometimes he slipped by referring to a scene from Arisan (a hit gay themed Indonesian movie), or inserting some gay slang (pepsi v. : gay slang for asking for a pee break; or I swam telenji mode in a Lombok beach, telenji adj. : derived from the word telanjang, nude), the point was, I still don’t even know about his orientation.

The way we were introduced was kinda online-ly gay. Do unknown straight people ask for your friendster friendlist and later in return receive a request for a ym session? Funny tho, during the conversations there was nothing gay about this person. He didn’t ask about my orientation, and I was too princess-ey to be the one who’d open the might-be-sensitive discussion.

I’ll just let it flow lah. It would be mighty interesting if he is. But then again if he is not, I wouldn’t mind getting a crazy, history-travel-movie-and-music buff, of a new friend.

Additional comment: If life is a gift from the gods, then I think it will be so exciting just to guess what's the next wonderfully mysterious gift that we will receive in the future.

Welcome to my world,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

Half Full or Half Empty?

2008-10-22T10:45:00.000-07:00

On the subject of fulfillments, somebody kinda gave me the words of the week. He said something in the line of: “Lower your worldly desire today, live a humbler-simpler life in the purpose of serving others. Just do what’s best that you can afford to do today. But never forget to focus your energy on your dreams, give your dream a new breath of life. You’ll live a passionate life.”

“There you go”, I said to my parents. Giving them a pile of clothing items, from t-shirts, pants, jackets, shirts, shoes, even baseball caps that I no longer wish to employ. I felt like Santa Claus in the middle of October trying to cheer people up. The opportunity to live a more passionate life, came as some of their friends asked their assistance to organize some clothing drive for the needy, a newly-displaced group of people somewhere in Tanjung Priok area.

Furthermore, I started to eat more at home, spending less on fancy lunches or dinners. Just like trying to quit smoking, curbing my today’s desires, had left me numb. I felt like I am somewhat content, but somehow felt like I am living in someone else’s physical being. Still not sure if this would be good or not, I have lost some essences of being my regular self.

This morning as I opened up my closet, I only saw about half of my belongings. One part of me felt happy. I felt half-full, that I have enough to sustain my life. That today I would need less stuffs to care about. Yet still another part of me saw an opportunity. The opportunity to replenish my now-half-empty wardrobe with new and exciting items.

Not giving up on that electric blue sneakers just yet!

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

Jealous (in Indonesian)

2008-10-22T10:39:00.000-07:00

Udah dibilangin jadi orang jangan suka iri dengan apa yang dimiliki orang lain. Yang ada bukankah pikiran kita hanya akan terkotori oleh ide-ide negatif yang selain tidak berguna, malah juga destruktif kedepannya? Dari kecil-pun kita sudah diajarkan bahwa kita kudu bersyukur atas pemberian Tuhan, mau banyak, mau sedikit, semuanya ada untuk dinikmati kita juga. Dibawa asik aja, kata ayah saya.

Tetapi kemarin kenapa ada terbersit sedikit rasa iri ya? Bukan iri karena seseorang memiliki sesuatu, karena dia sendiri juga belum memiliki hal itu. Rasa iri yang aneh, saya iri akan sebuah kesempatan.

Jadi ceritanya ada kawan yang merayakan ultah beberapa waktu yang lalu. Undangan acara itu terkesan sedikit gokil apa adanya seperti teman saya yang mengundang: "Sodara sodari, dateng ga perlu dijemput, pulang ga perlu dianter, langsung aja dateng ke rumah gue, pada hari (beep) dan jam (beep), utk pesta kecil2an gue. Ga usah bawa kado, bawa aja pacar/ suami/ istri kalo bisa sempet waktunya. No kids this time yak!".

Au contraire dengan undangan tadi, datanglah saya sembari menggenggam kado yang sudah dibungkus rapih oleh mbak saya di rumah.

"Happy birthday!" saya salami kawan saya.

"Thanks yah, where's your date?"

"Maksudlu pdkt gue itu? Biasalah dia, ada tugas di luar kota. Maklum perusahaan nasional, tiap bulan pasti ada tugas ngider..."

Kemudian saya didudukkan di sebelah kawan lama saya yang obviously sedang membawa seseorang di sebelahnya.

"Weitz, pa kabar lu? Akhirnya, gue bisa liat lu ga eternally jomblo bro!"

"Daripada elu gonta ganti mulu, dasar playboy!" balasnya, sembari kemudian memperkenalkan saya kepada pdkt-nya.

"Ashanti"

"Beneran? Kayak penyanyi itu namanya?"

"Perlu liat KTP gue?" balas wanita itu sembari bercanda.

Acara syukuran yang sederhana tetapi membekas. Kawan saya yang kebetulan hobby memasak dengan sakses berhasil menggelontorkan menu-menu yang terlihat asing tetapi sangat mantap menyentuh lidah Indonesia saya.

Waktu bergulir dengan cepat. Percakapan saya, kawan lama saya dan miss pdkt-nya berlangsung dengan hangat. Si manis yang ramah dan supel, yang dimana dari sanalah rasa iri itu mulai terbentuk. Di sana saya menilik sekilas pembawaannya yang anggun, pembicaraannya yang terkesan smart tanpa harus menggurui, dan jiwa pelayanan alaminya yang muncul ketika waktu beres-beres tiba, membantu sang empunya rumah, yang mana kebetulan pula baru saja ia kenal.

Gong terakhir tiba ketika acara dilanjutkan ke ruang tengah untuk berkaraoke seadanya. Di sana ia membuatku terpana dengan suaranya yang lembut dan mengambang, tanpa ada tekanan yang berarti, semuanya mengalun seiring harmoni yang sedang berlaku.

"Somewhere... over the rainbow... way up there..."

Kenapa saya harus iri dengan kawan saya ya? Dengan kesempatannya untuk dapat berdekat-dekatan dengan Ashanti.

Padahal somewhere over the rainbow juga sudah ada seseorang yang menakjubkan yang sudah berhasil membuat saya blingsatan head over heels belakangan ini, yang besok juga sudah kembali ke kota ini, ke dalam pelukan saya lagi.

Saya hanya berdoa, Ya Tuhan, semoga tidak semua laki-laki "ga pernah puas" seperti saya ini.

Aku (sepertinya) bukan lelaki buaya darat,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

The Old Man and the Sea

2008-10-22T10:32:00.000-07:00

Just as many had predicted, some type of collapse seemed to be inevitable for the Indonesian economy after the American giant seemed to slump further these past few weeks. Never happened in my observation that the IDX (Indonesian Stock Exchange) was stopped for a day, not just once, but for two consecutive days, only be halted again half-way on the third day, Friday, until further notice.

Not only for the investors or traders who lost their shiploads during these hard times, it was also a pretty disconcerting vista for the people who work around the perimeter of the stock exchange building, such as myself. Customers that should be returning from their Eid Holiday by Wednesday were just not there. On the same day, we saw a huge drop, even from the (already) low Tuesday, continuing on Thursday and Friday.

People had warned me to sell, while I was still holding. The value of my portfolio had plunged about 50% in comparison to the glorious December 2007 rate. In any case, I didn’t want to embark on this communal panic, since I am still blessed with other sources of income. Still, people kept on calling in desperate “it is getting worse day by day” - “buy some land” - “ buy more gold” tones. All happened while the USD rate was hiking and breaking the Rp. 10,000,- level.

I then decided to just simply go to a nearby gym to calm my nerves. Unlike the regular pre-holiday season Friday, the venue was shockingly almost empty. Upon further investigations, personal trainers in the gym would tell me recent horror stories in conjunction with the fall of the local stock market.

“You see, from the 10 clients that I should be training, only 2 showed up. The rest canceled due to the stock market fiasco”

“One of my clients lost everything. From four luxury abodes, now he is forced to rent. From five enviable automobiles, he suddenly needed to auction everything asap. He is in so much debt right now”

So I called a buddy of mine who was a very active personal investor. He said: “You know, I think God had called upon us once again. The greedy will fold. The contented will survive”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked

“Let’s go fishing tomorrow”

“What?”

-0-

At the least, the weather was cooperative that Saturday. The sun was bright. The clear blue sky welcomed us. It was past noon when we finally reached the fishing dock. Only a handful of people were there. We chose to share a bamboo type of hut with an elderly man who was accompanied by his teenage grandson. They were there earlier, observing their lures, waiting patiently. Soon enough, I was having a totally “blond moment” watching my buddy preped his fishing rods, put on the baits while throwing the lines at the murky waters below us.

“I wished the government had given us some type of protection like they did in Thailand and Malaysia. There were certain amount of time-bond, sometimes it could run for years, before foreign investors at the stock market could sell everything and just leave the country”

“Really?” I asked as in amazement, since I knew almost nothing about the subject that he was discussing.

“Did you know why they had to stop trading for the last couple of days?”

“Because it fell so sharp?”

“Not only that, because these foreigners had gained some quick profits to help cover their losses back home, and they were more than ready to fly. That would definitely hurt us worse faster”

He would continue his monologue (or lessons as I perceived it) for another thirty minutes about the good and the bad, the mistakes and the greed that people were becoming blinded by.

“As the old adage said, don’t put all your eggs in one basket. This way you shall have other means of support when bad things started to roll. I am still grateful that I still have my day job, and I didn’t invest all my savings in the stock market. It was as if I have an inner voice that guided me to know when enough is enough”

“Yeah, try to tell that to the people who are plainly broke right now because of the blow”

“Well, the wise one would take this as a learning vehicle, while some other might snap and become literally insane”

Suddenly the elderly man who was sitting at the next table waved at us.

“Excuse me Sirs. Would you like to share lunch with us? But these are the only things that we can offer you guys…” he said while showing a rolled up rice cake with salted fish inside.

“My grandson will prepare some tea if you will.”

I was touched by his sincerity.

“Come on don’t be shy, I made this myself this morning. People said it’s very delicious!” he insisted.

With some hesitation we then accepted his offer. The rolled rice was indeed sumptuous. He wasn’t bragging himself earlier.

“So how many fish did you catch today Sir?” my buddy asked to open up a conversation.

“Just these two” he said showing the meagerly sized local fish, about the dimension of a woman’s palm.

“Maybe it wasn’t the season Sir?” I asked.

“I dunno, sometimes I may catch a lot. I could throw the lures and I might pick ‘em right up in a second. Sometimes it’s like today, almost nothing. Hey, but it’s good enough lah. I can cook some kick ass fried chilly with these ones. Maybe tomorrow we’ll catch more.”

We talked about everyday things in some very warm manners with the two of them. After a while, the grandson pulled out a very humble dessert.

“Oh this is soo good!” I yelled for his sweetened steamed banana dessert.

Then they would rest for a while, exchanging guard from time to time. Then my friend said, “You see, this is one of those life enlightenment processes going on for us. Even seemingly lacking of worldly things that he could amass, he would still offer us what little did he have in his hands.”

By dusk the family duo then excused themselves.

“Did ya catch anymore Sir?” I asked before they’d parted.

“Nope” he said laughing, showing his decaying teeth.

“Just like the sea Sir, you never see the oceans complained. They just took in whatever bad things we might throw at them. I might as well just follow the sea. I don’t want to complain about what the sea would just offer me today in return”

Somebody smacked me about the way I run my life.
Yet still, I didn’t even care enough to ask for his name.

Bowing for The Old Man,

Prof. Utonium

Disturbing Nature

2008-10-22T10:20:00.000-07:00

Unlike what some people might have thought of me, I really let go when I felt the need to let go. Especially in the case of disharmonious bowel movements.

While it would be true that sometimes one shall hold for a longer period when faced with a reality of an ugly public toilet situation, but in most of the cases, I would happily obliged to nature calls after some quick scanning on the available amenities.

Roll of papers would be the ultimate salvation. In the Asian-way case, a hand-held jet washer would be nice. Then it would be best if they have installed an under the seat bidet system. And on top of that, I was heavenly blessed of having to sit on a heated seat in the middle of a chilly autumn, with heated multi-option jet washer system, complete with a music button to mask any unruly sound that one might produce while doing his personal business, somewhere in Japan.

So earlier today, I felt the sudden need to do my personal business. Then equipped with a familiar knowledge of the mall's layout, I deliberately chose the most-likely-to-be-unattend

ed men's room in a hope to have a private blissful moment.

Extremely clean and luxuriously laid out, it had both paper and under-the-seat washer options. I secretly thanked the Lord for this.

And then just before the first %^&* was about to blast, from all the other empty and available spaces, someone chose to sit next to me.

I felt like a bad karma was surfacing, eager to be paid.

Then a very loud monophonic jingle came out from his cell. Then without any reservation, he picked up the phone. Then he would answer it in a similarly loud manner. And then he chatted as if he was sitting down somewhere more appropriate, discussing about bank loans and its prerequisites.

"Oh yea I know that Mr. Iskandar that you were talking about..."

"No, he is Muslim, you wouldn't know him from your church..."

"Hmm, maybe this wasn't the same Mr. Iskandar that I was referring about..."

"This one is very powerful, I knew him very well..."

The disturbance changed my mood. No longer having the seclusion that I was expecting, suddenly my bodily functions just halted everything that nature intended for that specific occasion. Damn the guy next door who stole my moment.

Even while I was wondering how could this person do this to the other person that he was talking to, alas, he didn't seem to find any problem of letting go of his "issues" anytime, anywhere.

You got the perfect blaring 3D wall-echo sounds and holly #$%&, the perfect odor as well. It was so real, not unlike walking into an IMAX 3D theater. Wait it was actually real, I was there damn it. Still I thank God that I didn't have to witness any visual-effect.

Out of annoyance and respect for the person he was talking to, I just quit. Disgruntled.

More sounds from his business. Flush. Stream. Re-flush.

"You know we should meet later on for a coffee..." he said to the other end of his phone.

Let's hope at least he would have the decency to wash his hands first,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

Jung Test

2008-06-26T05:48:00.001-07:00

This is what "Jung" online had so say about my "personality". Somehow I know that something like this would be the result of my personality test. Not only that it is very similar, but this is what i am good at real life as a "seller" and absolutely "outstanding" fabulous host. Heheh...

ESFJ - "Seller". Most sociable of all types. Nurturer of harmony. Outstanding host or hostesses. 12.3% of total population.

Free Jung Word Test (similar to Myers-Briggs)
personality tests by similarminds.com

Not Too Wild This Time

2008-05-26T19:57:00.001-07:00

"No one ever said: the Great Indoors” was found at a spread of Hummer H3 ad. Flipping through some more pages of Bestlife (May 2008), you will find: “There’s only one way to find out if your vaccinations really work” from Range Rover. Both of them showed their mighty trucks being harassed by the wilderness. One was parked in a sunny ditch at the foot of San Juan Mountains, Colorado, and the harsh Tibetan Plateau pampered the other one. Then I remembered someone had promised me to take me out to experience nature first hand.

“But I don’t do camping!” I said back then. “If I need any emergency midnite ice cream and extra pillow, there would be no room service button to press!” I defended myself violently.

Gayle, my mate of honor, whom I later found out that he really swept the forest floor like a gale, replied “First we do trekking. But to motivate you, there shall be something nice at the end of the road. Let’s unveil short waterfalls trips first.”

“But we’re still not going camping right?”

“No, we are going to just enjoy the view and return the same day.”

“Phewww”

When we finally reached the area, I was somehow shocked by how pristine the landscape was. The entire small mountain was blocked for strictly eco-tourism. It was called the Cigampea at Gunung Bunder (Mt. Round) just half an hour higher than the city of Bogor, West Java. Inside the protected park you will find six or even seven different waterfalls, camping grounds, pine forest in sulfuric meadows (aptly named Kawah Ratu, the Queen’s Crater).

With only about 500 m hike, it wasn’t difficult to find Curug Ngumpet (Hiding Waterfall). We needed to go around a wet cliff before hearing the water splashing on the ground beneath it. This ticked the Indiana Jones spirit inside me, that I thought I never had (true that I believed only the spirits of Halston and Gianni who would guide me through my darkest nights).

It was somehow secluded, a perfectly romantic spot, with sunbeams falling on the perfect clearances. Too bad some group of photographers and love birds were there earlier than us. Ahh, the fresh air (and the wild snake which just crossed our path). Yikes!

The second waterfall was the mother load, Curug Cigampea. It was almost 300 m tall. Sidetracking to a smaller waterfall on its right side, it was as if you’d get two waterfalls at the price of one.

Secretly, I thanked the local government for putting on paved walkways to ease our 1 km descend to reach the falls. It was tiring but then again it was safe as they had railings and flat stairs to welcome your journey. But yes it was awe-inspiring when finally you reached the bottom of that hill. One would feel nothing but so small against this natural setting.

Curug Cigampea was crowded as it was the end of the high-school final tests season. Ahh, another fresh vantage point. I had never realized that even the locals nowadays already ditched GT Mans and Riders (famous local underwear brands) for the trendier distro produced boxers (but briefs are sexier when wet!!).

Then Dr. Doolittle seemed to possess my Gayle for a while, as he was able to feed the monkeys by hand. I will never forget how he would gaze at the dominant male as if calling it to get closer. And when it arrived, they were as if talking in another language. The dominant male looked tamed before him. But still, just as a precaution, I never had the intention to get anywhere near them on that stream.

I sat there for a while. Just replenishing the good energy that I needed to refuel for my sanity. The mist was indeed mysterious. But Cigampea seemed to welcome us in its cradle. It wasn’t scary but Cigampea wanted to be handled with respect.

Warning Sign on the spot:
1. Please leave before 4.00 PM
2. Leave immediately when it started to rain
3. The same goes for landing mist
4. Keep clean and take care of your garbage

After a while, Vanindya was tired as hell. We didn’t want to imagine the ascend to the area where we came from. Huffing and puffing like some fish out of the water, we finally made it back. Only to be treated by the most glorious welcome: A group of bare-chested army cadets running in unison down the mountain road.

“Mama, mama can you see…”

Can’t wait for another trip,

Prof. Utonium

Copyrights: Opening Image. Vanindya Vidiastuty © 2008
Other Images. Prof. Utonium © 2008

Nature Photography inspired by Techno80 © 2008

The House of Ngadiredjo

2008-05-26T09:11:00.001-07:00

Feeling cornered for some overdue times, finally Lord Abimanyu asked the most important question that he had withheld since he was a teenager: “I am sick and tired of being so different. I was never known as the sensible and the responsible one. Nothing that I did in my past would seem to please you and the duke. Everything just seemed to be wrong. I felt like I don’t even belong to this family. In which I had a hunch from a long time ago, that I am not even your son!” The Duchess of Ngadiredjo then slumped in her chair. She tightened her grip on Madam Utami’s hand, her world had seemingly collapsed above her, she felt nauseous and weak. Tears started to run down Madam Utami’s cheeks, the beloved mak inang, that helped the duchess raise Lord Abimanyu to princedom and adulthood.

Waves of emotions lingered in the House of Ngadiredjo that evening. In her despair, the duchess gathered her entire family in the courtyard. Their heirs Lord Abimanyu and Lady Sri Kartika waited uneasily while the Duke finally entered the courtyard with the grand matriarch, Lady Paramita of Ngadirejo in his arm. Gracefully the grand lady then opened the internal forum: “We are gathered here today as a family unit to talk about any feelings or questions that we might have in mind, before celebrating the big day of Lord Abimanyu’s wedding to Lady Ratnagahari of Jenggala several months from now. So please do the forum is yours” she said in a stern yet loving manner.

Anxious with confusion Lady Sri Kartika, asked in a rush: “With the utmost respect for the duke and the duchess, let me ask why does the duchess looked very sad or even bereft today? Anything wrong? Are you fine dear mother?” Her heart pounded as she let the questions slipped through her mouth.

The Duchess then answered her inquiry: “Your brother, Lord Abimanyu today, asked me whether or not he was our authentic apparent heir?”

Anguished, Lady Sri Kartika then turned to her beloved brother, “But dear brother why did you ask such reckless question?”

“Sister, since I was a child I had been having visions or premonitions of my real heritage. Even though I am grateful that I was raised in this house, groomed as a prince, trained as knights and warriors, I still felt like I do not have the rights to receive such honors dear sister.”

”But if you have such a question to ask, don’t you think it would be wise to wait until a more perfect moment shall arrive? We are very hectic right now in preparing for your own wedding. And right now the Duke is also worrisome about the need to raise the tax on the citizens to built a better Ngadiredjo county”

“I know it was stupid, harsh and unnecessary. I just felt so cornered as nothing I did seemed to be appreciated, nothing I choose seemed to be the correct one. Even the woman I loved dearly, Lady Ratnagahari seemed to be lacking a lot of things in dear mother’s eyes. I felt chocked and I am truly sorry that I did what I did to let the steam off”

Inside, Lady Sri Kartika started to ponder the same question that was uttered earlier by her brother. No matter how beautiful she is today, still she does not appear to have any similarities with the Duke and the Duchess. Her features were different, her interests were different. Yet by training she has the same grace, wisdom, and commanding presence as her parents would.

And then the Duke replied, “Even when you feel like you are less of a person to belong here in the House of Ngadiredjo, without you realizing, you actually do have the right and title as our true heir. When we understood that it would be difficult for us to produce any heir, the Mighty One above, along with the ancestors, had delivered you for us to take care and to raise with love, compassion and dignity. The bond that we have as parents and offspring may never be broken by anything, as we had laid one powerful base for this household, it is love…” he started.

“No acknowledgements and entitlements would do anything good in the world as long as you haven’t truly understood the reason and the duties that you have to perform. For the family honor, for the community goodness, for the spread of the religion and for the greatness of the kingdom.”

“I am truly sorry father” Lord Abimanyu offered no more defense.

“I am the one who actually felt sorry son. As the head of the family I felt that I have failed to raise a knight”

“No father, you have done more than enough. It was I who felt so utterly useless for you to employ”

“One would feel meaningless when one feels like he doesn’t give any meaning for others. Take care of others, be useful, then you will know your purpose in this world”

And then Lord Abimanyu asked for forgiveness from the Duke and the Duchess. And then they hugged and cried.

Later that night, still distraught, very unladylike, Lady Sri Kartika then went up the roof of her chalet and lit up a clove cigarette. Suddenly she saw something moving through the thick dark air. She readied her self-guard, preparing for any attack that would bestow upon her. A strong jasmine perfume then lingered in the air.

“Dear Kartika, this is me, no need to worry” said Lady Wulandari as she stepped on the roof after seemingly flying elegantly through the bamboo forest.

“Auntie! I missed you, my heart is broken right now…”

“Now, now, calm my child. Auntie is here. You both are grown up now. You may ask me any question that you have in mind… I too have loved both of you since the day you were born. And I too knew everything…”

Lady Sri Kartika felt a small choke in her throat.

This was the confirmation that she had been preparing to hear for her entire life.

Everything is going to be all right Tika,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

The Commoners

2008-05-23T11:56:00.000-07:00

There is actually nothing wrong with being a commoner. We wake up at certain hours of the morning, then we go to our usual workplaces, get stuck in the same traffic, we go home, do our errands and chores, cook or get dinner, and at a certain hour we will fall asleep, recharging our cells for the next day to fuel our activities. For most of us this is what we call living or even in some extreme case, surviving. But then again there are some species, with exactly similar features who would not accept the fact that they too are just commoners just like the rest of us.

Then the problems arise. Call it self-respect or even arrogance, members of this species felt like they are actually special enough to be handled with respect and dignity. They felt the need to stand out from the bunch. But then again maybe this is not the perfect time yet for them to enter the upper strata. They do not have enough of the key x-factors, mainly in the form of assets, power, lineage, or luck, to punch a notch above the average. Therefore this group would feel frustrated, helpless, and tired of being pushed around like the rest of us, the commoners.

It was like as if they were so close to the comfort zone that they were looking for, but haven’t yet reached the garden behind the gate. They may mingle with the upper crowds, shop in the same luxury boutiques, even hangout in the same uber-chic watering holes. But to survive, they need to be extra careful on when to hold and release their resources. Unlike the group of people above them, who do not seemed to be too bothered about this.

These “special” commoners may drive cars, but they cannot afford a chauffeur or an assigned parking spot. They may rent a reasonable living space, but not yet able to own one. Or even if they have an abode, it might not be the address that they felt they should reside at. They may be able to travel abroad, but budget hotels and airlines are still their common vehicle.

They would probably snigger at the commoners as if we were lacking of something special to become one of them. They always look up to the skies while forgetting to be grateful that they are already somewhere reasonably saver. An area where they don’t have to line up for poor people’s rice, drinking water, cooking oil or commodity gas.

And the thing that would hit them the most is the simple fact that they still have to queue the long lines of the banks. This group hates waiting. They wanted to be treated as royalties, but they do not have what it takes to be considered one. They would hate how the priority customers would cut their lines without even asking for permissions. They would envy the special deluxe rooms that would accommodate those big rollers. And they would promise themselves, that one day they too would have enough business for the banks or other merchants to take them seriously.

Go ahead. Plan, do, and get them.

Meanwhile the rest of us commoners have an easier way to avoid getting cut off of our lines: Bribe the tellers with cakes and cookies, find an obscure branch or simply be there early.

Concerned commoner,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

Unique List

2008-05-14T09:36:00.000-07:00

“Sir do you have any cigarette that you would like to declare?” Thanks to Mrs. Hera’s two boxes of church merchandise, all of our baggage had to pass the x-ray tube at the arrival hall. The exit gate to freedom was just about 5 meters away from where we stood. I said, “No”. “But in the scanner I saw you have several packs of cigarettes”. Oops. “Oh, I thought the cigarettes that I needed to declare were the ones that are still freshly packed in the carton?” “When was the last time you were here Sir?” the officer on duty asked gently. “Five years ago”, I replied. “Well, maybe that time you got lucky Sir, because any cigarette must pay cigarette duty upon entering this country. I won’t report you this time since you didn’t understand my question in the first place. But let me tell you this, if you failed to report and we caught you next time, the fine will be $2,000.00 per pack of cigarette. I don’t think you would enjoy that…”

Of course I wouldn’t enjoy that. Then she directed me towards the tax office at the airport. In which there I needed to pay the duty for the 5 packs of Dunhill’s that I brought from home. “The total is $35.00”, the lady said in a slight Indian accent. Inside I was yelling, “What the fuck? Back home that amount would grant me almost 3 cartons of these babies!” Paid my duties and left.

Outside, Mum had a similar experience trying to clear the two boxes of merchandises that Mrs. Hera back home asked us to deliver to her sister. “Crazy, I had to pay $50.00 for those plastic-ky whatever merchandise that would cost less than this tax duty in Mangga Dua!” But then of course, the boxes weren’t for her church or her congregation, so right on she said, “By the way, you owe me $50.00 to clear these boxes darling” telling Mrs. Hera’s sister in a heavy Javanese accent after a brief air-kisses.

The first hour that we landed in this fine city and we were sorta fined already.

I wasn’t lying to the customs officer about haven’t been to Singapore for 5 years. For me the city was sorta boring back then. Didn't have any reason to return. Especially now that you might be able to find most things you would drool over at home in Jakarta anyway. From incredible restaurants (both local and foreign origin), eclectic music and book shops, art & sound happenings, latest Hollywood blockbusters, great local brands to exclusive shopping boutiques, including those obscure brands of fashion items, perfumes and even funky underwear are becoming widely available in Jakarta and most of the Indonesian big cities. And I was only there for part business trip and part family outing, so I wasn’t in the mood for any touristy objects.

But then again there are some experiences that you couldn’t find anywhere else but over there.

My Top 10 Uniquely Singapore entries would be:

1. Leg cramps. After gliding gracefully in the exhibition halls during the Gourmet Summit week, plus walking through endless streets, I started to miss my ride. Anything. Cars, cabs, ojek, bajaj, becak, bemo, andong, metromini, mikrolet, busway. I missed riding something that wouldn’t involve any work on my leg muscles.

2. Singapore Flyer. One of the most boring ride I’ve ever been trapped into. And I was the one who suggested this touristy ride to begin with. Thirty minutes of lame waiting inside a capsule overlooking the contrast between total darkness and the twilights of the city. Thank God I didn’t need to pee as well at the moment. Too bad though, the Beijing Wheel upon the opening of the Olympics will soon dwarf this mega structure. Seemed that the achievement on making it bigger than the London Eye only lasted for a while. Hey, at least I didn’t have to walk

3. Fantastic shopping. True that Ikea and Muji hadn’t yet penetrate the Indonesian market so far. But shoes, Singapore has a lot of great shoes and sneakers begging me to bring home (Onitsuka, I love you). I might actually be able to get them somewhere back home, but heck I was in a holiday mode.

4. Extremely long queue for taxi after 5 PM anywhere in the CBD. Why didn’t these people just use the MRT instead. After some tiring all day long meetings, this princess didn’t enjoy waiting for another bit. Maybe we shall introduce the thousands of Blue Birds, Express, Dian and the gang, complete with old or new tariffs to Singapore.

5. Bell boys. We were pretty cheap in renting a flat on the 45th fl. around Tj. Pagar area. So after the fourth day it became clear that we were going to have a problem getting our ever expanding belongings down to street level. Furthermore, the street level of the building consisted of chic local boutiques and offices, thus adding the embarrassments of having to tow our own boxes and baggage.

6. Specialty Food. Sometimes I seemed to be confused whether I was in Japan or Singapore at that moment. So many new specialty Japanese cuisine seemed to spring up all over the island. Tried the katsu place and the curry place. Wonderful dishes, wonderful service. Even the humble Burger King, would give me some of the ultimate pleasures of chowing down their Chicken Tender. A juicy bun filled with the moistest grilled chicken you’ll ever find in any fast food track.

7. Cuter Guys. Thank God that they had changed the way they dressed within these years. I didn’t enjoy the Chinese harajuku look back then, but the stylishly simple Hong Kong style was in town. But overall, the last time I checked, they were still pretty far from the husky studs of Tokyo and Osaka.

8. Flip flops. Some of us would get thrown out from luxury shopping malls by our own friends for dressing in the wrong code back home. But it was refreshing how the Singaporeans respect the freedom to breath, for our toes at the least.

9. Nice tires. Even the shaggiest car would have some extra cool wheels for show and tell in Singapore. I envied anyone who’d fine any PCD 108-four hole type wheels to fit into their Fords and Jags. Nicely dressed-up Toyota Rush were everywhere. Back home, some people might laugh: Why would you dress up a not so expensive car with some extremely nice wheels? While that wouldn’t even trick the small torque of the miniscule 1.5 lt. engine. With the hefty price tags on automobile tax in Singapore suddenly the high price of cool wheels doesn’t seem to be a big problem for the owners to pimp their rides.

10. GST Refund that would automatically pay your overweight charges. The airline gave us a maximum of 80 kg of total baggage, and ours were like 125 kg. And we still got change from the GST tax refund after paying the extra weight. Great.

Caressing new shoes,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Empress Palace, Singapore in the 1960-s. Attic Folk Club © 2008

Black Monday

2008-05-13T12:04:00.001-07:00

“Seacrest. Out” I said while leaving my office one mid afternoon. “But you are NOT presenting Cimahi Idol!” yelled one of my Sundanese colleagues. “Dun care darl! I am just fed up with everything today, I need my personal moment”. “So where are you going?” she asked. “Personal moments became that way because they are personal thus none of your business” I snapped. The air was thick, choking, annoying, and not enjoyable at most. I called that specific day my Black Monday.

Maybe it was PMS, maybe then it was the overextended gout attack, but for sure nothing would satisfy me that day. Everything just seemed to be wrong. From the banks’ long queuing lines, the traffic jam, the stupid questions people called me to answer. It was just a totally wrong day.

I didn’t remember how many people had I snapped at that day. It was just simply no more Mr. Nice Guy from this side of the globe. I felt like the sweet and polite guy I was known as, had left the building along with Elvis. If someone would start a bad mouthing, I would retort in an equally bad and long angry monolog. In short: Don’t even light any match, because the fuse were drenched in gasoline already.

Short Note: And the funny thing was, I just realized that when I was really really angry, I specifically only burst-out in English, forgetting any other common tongues. Maybe I watched too much bitching in Melrose Place and General Hospital in my youth.

Some of my victims were over pushing telemarketers, my merchant relations officer, and a few friends who seemingly displayed an open fire strategy as their greeting method of the day.

During the previous weekend, all I needed to calm my soul was a heartfelt karaoke session with my friends. Some of them did come to an undisclosed Satay meeting place. But none of them wanted to have a karaoke nite. I started to get mad that weekend. Damn, why is it so hard to understand that when a girl needs to sing, she NEEDS to SING.

Grumpy old bastard then I became through Sunday and explosive Mama I then was by Monday.

Monday night I came home totally exhausted for feeling mad for no apparent reason. The only consolation was the chuckling I had when Mr. Boyfriend called in. He told me to be patient, to meditate and to pray at the end of that ugly Monday.

I did.

Tuesday didn’t seem to be any different.

I was still busy snapping at people who’d done some wrong timing with me. Then it came to me that I needed my personal moment. I needed to go somewhere secluded, tranquil with a pint of meditative quality.

So then I went to Pacific Place in the middle of the CBD. Not exactly meditative. But it was close by. It was empty. It was enough to sooth my burning mind. Then yet again, I was about to get mad again when I realized that I didn’t even bring my notebook from the office. What if in case I would need to perform some karmic surfing on the net?

Then I pulled out my little phone. Turned on the bandwidth, ordered some heavenly chocolate cake at Segafredo and just stared on the screen of my phone. Sipping through my second glass of iced macha, I was already smiling, laughing, and even kicking my feet, as I laughed so hard, my stomach would hurt.

So what was my savior of the day?

It was Jon’s blog. I am sure you’ve read his writings as he was featured in Fridae a while back. God, let me thank you for creating Jon. He really saved the day. I am really thankful that he still writes in his own funny way. It was sincere yet it was too honest at times.

Who needed to know how a Thai elephant would blast a heavy load of shit during a very hot and humid day trip? Who needed to know why his mother was afraid that he would get kidnapped by the insurgence at the southern border? Who needed to know why his father would seem so kind and yet thrifty at the same time? Who needed to know how a patient’s vomit would have a certain texture and fragrance that one specific male nurse would be able to distinguish?

I did.

And I laughed. And I laughed.

By 6 pm that evening, I was back in my old shoes. The sweet nature and caring guy who rarely gets angry and who has an abundance of patience (well at least I may act like I have one) in dealing with problems.

It was almost two weeks ago.
And I am still in a jolly good mood.

Thank you Jon for saving my week.

Forever indebted,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

Conversations with My Future Wife

2008-05-13T11:31:00.000-07:00

Checking the wall clock above me, the hands were pointing at 1:35. The wee hours in the morning. Though she was sharing her problems and asking me to help her find some solutions, overall, it was indeed a lovely and enjoyable conversation. Without realizing, I had been having this very nice talk with her for more than two and a half hour that night. Giselle, the girl I knew a couple of years back from a former work place. The girl in which lingered in my heart, once in a blue moon. The girl that I deliberately abandoned for fear of hurting her further. The girl that I didn’t have the heart to tell the truth, that I might not be the guy, whoever she thought I was. The girl who was just sharing her insecurities about her current boyfriend.

As deep in my core I questioned my ability to become a good husband -and as Bal would agree that there’s nothing but the spirit of ibu-ibu (motherhood) that reside inside me- I do fantasize of having a married life sooner or later. Of course Bal would bless that very moment if he would see me fit to one day become a husband. He said, “I can picture A Mad, A Kiong, A Ndy, or even A Ndro (some of our friends) getting married. But I don’t know about you. You are like the embodiment of a living housewife in the way you do things and conduct your hobbies and interests”. Which was of course so hard to deny.

So then why this urge? A very strong urge which I didn’t know how to base that on. To tell you the truth, even those days were gone. The days when I felt the pressures. Heavenly loads from parents, from other family members and friends alike for me to jump into the familyhood bandwagon. These overwhelming pressures weren’t as visible as let’s say, half a decade ago. Frankly, I think they’d somehow already guessed. Thus stopped wishing and hoping about seeing me toting a gal home planning our wedding reception.

And then suddenly Giselle was back into my life. Her calls were getting more frequent. She shared, she cried, she talked, and I listened closely. (Oh yes, she’s another Libra in distress!) There was nothing but pure joy in assisting her needs. Of course she would feel very comfortable having this shoulder to cry on. Diamond had officially stopped becoming a woman’s best friend. It’s us, the sensible gay males who would listen and give our undying supports for them. Though sometimes this attention giving could backlash to us. Especially if these female specimens didn’t know any better.

After a while I began to talk about her with Mr. Ripley, our new dependable psychic at the office (who of course as my best friend, already knew everything about me). Mr. Ripley also knew her from way back. Back when I could feel her attentiveness for me. The way she wanted to care for me, for my health, for my family. Back then I had to shrug her off. I didn’t want give her any impression or to promise her anything but a profound friendship that I may as well offer her. Of course I couldn’t tell her the truth, as she was sort of affiliated with my dear church and all the wonderful people I met there along the way.

“Just be kind to her,” Mr. Ripley would start one of his psychic sessions. “I can feel that they’re going to break up very soon” he said about Giselle and Antonio’s relationship.

“But hell, I am not going to date her! Are you forgetting one very important detail here?” I snapped at him.

“But, yes, it is your destiny Professor. One that you may not be able to just refuse. You’ll be about 36 or 37 when finally you’d have her hand on the isle”

“What? Are you sure? I mean by that time she’d be like 35 or something. Would she wait for me that long? And how am I going to be able to just leave this so-called lifestyle just like that?”

“Be patient my child. One day you’re going to feel so tired of being in this position and you will want to settle down. And when that happened, you’ll have no better person in mind to fill that perfect spot in your heart”

Scary.
Yet somehow relieving.

And still I was not sure on why would I felt relieved hearing this. Is it because that I felt that in the end I wouldn't have to be old and lonely? Is it because that I felt like God had indeed arranged a special someone to welcome me at the end of my wild journey? Crazy as it might sound though.

Another day, another chat on the phone. It was nearing midnite. Another phone call from her.

“You know the craziest thing just happened?” she began.

“What? What? What?”

“You know that my parents and siblings never expected too much out of me getting married any sooner?”

“Yea, you told me that before”

“But do you know why?”

“Ok. Why?”

“I just found out last week. It turned out that secretly, a few years back my dad went to this Guamya master (Chinese fortune teller)”

“OMG. And what did this person tell him?”

“Just relax Sir, your daughter will get married someday. But it is not going to happen within these years. You may have to let her younger siblings pass her on this, she wouldn’t mind. She'll never loose hope on love. So, let me tell you this, she’ll get hitched in her mid thirties. Someone nice. You don’t have anything to worry lah…”

…

I just sat there. Stunned for a couple a second in silence.

Scary.
Yet somehow relieving.

Welcoming possibilities,

Prof. Utonium

Note: But how could that young beefy-daddy-with-a-baby-stroller neighbor still look as enticing as ever?

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

Certified Chong

2008-05-10T11:06:00.000-07:00

Fetching my notebook bag, I immediately went back inside the Westside Mall. Then all of a sudden I can hear my name being paged through the entire mall’s speaker system. The lady with the nice voice said: “Paging Prof. Utonium. Paging Prof. Utonium, the staffs are now ready to serve you at the Beverly Beauty Centre. Thank you. Once more, for Prof. Utonium, the staffs are ready for you at the Beverly Beauty Centre” Ding. Dong. And the background soft music then resumed, after the brief interruption.

I had the right to wake-up late this weekend. Finally the month-long gout attack had vanished. Went swimming I did the day before. Then my body ached pretty bad. Of course, this was the first sporting activity that I did after a four week hiatus. My natural plan to visit my regular facial parlor above, had to be moved till later the day.

By 12 I greeted the girl at the front desk, who was courteous and cute. She even looked very sorry to inform that the next available opening would be at 3 PM later that day. Since I skipped last month's session, I guessed I wouldn’t mind waiting. “I’ll stroll along the mall then, just call me when you guys are ready. You have my number already”.

An entire three hour of nothingness would kill me. Then I decided to pull-out my dependable notebook from the parking garage. And then a lightning bolt, upon hearing that public announcement, hit me.

There would be no mistaking that the public would then think in the line of: “Who is this Professor Utonium person? Gawd, he is practically outing himself by being paged by Beverly Beauty Centre”.

In short, as Will would put, I was a certified chong.

(chong. n. a homosexual individual in Indonesia, who takes care –too much- on how he would look in public. Derived from the word bencong or benchong, a derogatory slang used to nick transsexuals.).

And you would think that the nightmare would be over?

Alas no! Upon entering the premises of Beverly Beauty Centre, the staffs again greeted me cheerfully: “Ah, Professor, where have you been? We have been waiting for you as we couldn’t reach your number…”

I would then feel that the ladies in the room started to whisper to each other: “Oh so, this… is the gay Professor!”

Deep down inside, I know that I shouldn’t make a big deal out of it, since about 25% of their clienteles are males anyway. But then again this Professor couldn’t stand public humiliations.

The steams opened up my pores; the facial massage was delightful; the cleansing was deep and enjoyable; the acne and blackhead subtractions didn’t hurt; the clay mask was thin, breathable, yet firming; the electrolysis was relaxing and rejuvenating, and finally as the encore, the head and shoulder massages were out of this world. I dozed in and out of consciousness during the entire one and a half hour process. And then I opened my eyes feeling overly refreshed as if I was re-baptized, but most of all, I felt gorgeously beautiful.

For now Beverly, you are pardoned.

Because I'm gorgeous,

Prof. Utonium

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

Supraliminal Mr. Ripley

2008-05-10T10:33:00.000-07:00

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Nothing, why?” I replied. Then he whispered, “Some of them is lurking around you, but you have nothing to worry about. They are just curious about you, because your energy is so bright”. I felt a sudden urge to smack him. First of all, I don’t need to know if other beings happened to lurk behind, in front or anywhere around my cute being. Second of all, for God Sake, we were in a funeral home, attending a wake just outside of the city. Then as the final twist he said, “Later if you wanna pray for her departing soul, try not to gaze directly at her face”

For the last couple of weeks I felt this uneasiness that was so easy to understand yet so difficult to explain. I didn’t have to look very far to find the culprit of these worrisome occurrences. He is my own colleague at work, who suddenly was gifted to see things that others couldn’t see. Like an opening of his third eye that would show a whole new dimension for him to tell. And believe me, like he was given a new toy to play with, this person is so eager to tell his stories. The talented Mr. Ripley as we would call him, is a speaker who’s extremely dependable for relaying his visions at any time of the day. Not that we asked.

You could say that I am not exactly foreign about the subject. I do have so many called indigo-esque friends. And furthermore, the nature-loving personality of mine, would sort-of open my eyes and heart about these natural occurrences. I may feel the harmonious chi around me or even any disturbed energy level, which would happen at times. And also, because we are all God’s creatures, living in the same place separated by a thin other dimension, we just need to share our domain, our fare and sometimes our needs.

Although very small, personally I know that I can feel or smell “things”. I know when my guardian angels are gearing up for battle in a dark unfamiliar place. Furthermore, I'd know whether or not I am welcomed in a space. Mimicking what they said in the movies, I always uttered: “We come in peace, hopefully you guys will welcome us”.

I wish this was the case with Mr. Ripley. I am guessing instead of asking for permission he would say something like: “Though we come in peace, but you still need to show me your leader!”

We would eat a restaurant, and suddenly he would choke a bit. His face would blush. And then he would close his eyes for a while. This had happened so frequently that we wouldn’t think too much about this, “Oh he has another vision session”. And then he would rise from his seat, slowly walked out of the premises while making a funny gesture with his right hand. And strange enough, the air around us usually felt cooler and less cramped afterwards. This is almost as if he was taking away some of “them” outside so it wouldn’t feel too crowded inside.

One day when we were having a BK Meal, one of us shouted, “Do you smell fresh flower?” As if it was his cue, then with his finger, the talented Mr. Ripley would gesture to the one who asked, that something was indeed standing beside us. Kyaaaaaa!

“And just like us, they also need to eat” he said while rearranging a portion of his meal neatly in his plate, leaving some for “them” to enjoy.

Other than that, his newfound gift seemed to enable him to mind-read and foretell the future. But then again, I wasn’t born yesterday, I too always knew when he was trying to read me. Given an early alarm I would be able to shield my own gates.

Frustrated by this, then I said: “Dude, you know how I hate my mom when she happened to feel the need to monitor me? I felt that you are monitoring me with this new super-vision of yours”. And then he understood, “Okay, I am sorry. I wont get inside you, unless you asked, right?”

Right.

And for now, I am content.

As long as he would stop informing us that there were other beings around us.
We knew that already. We knew that we are sharing this world with them. We just didn’t need to know about how they look, why they were there and what exactly that they wanted.

Kyaaaa!!

Uneasy State,

Prof. Utonium

PS. Unless he would be able to control his urge to tell, trips to old buildings, museums, & antique stores would be eliminated until further notice. Hehe.

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008

Libra Me

2008-05-09T11:23:00.000-07:00

Is it really a coincident, or has Planet Venus been attacked by various malicious powers lately? Some of the reasons that I hadn’t been writing recently –despite the lack of will power- are consolation provisions. It seemed that my services were in high demand especially during the April-May period. People of all kind came to me for comfort, support, solace and what not. Most of my so called "clients" were friends, co-workers, old friends, and even family members. And the funny (or not so funny) thing was that, most of them happened to have the exact same zodiac sign. Yes, they were Libras.

After several consolations I began to hop on Google due to my diminutive knowledge on star signs, zodiacs, or even prophecies. As far as I browsed through the pages, nothing serious was stated as any alarming reason for them this season. But at least, I found out that Planet Venus happened to be the guiding star of the people who were born as Libras. With Goddess Venus as their nurturer, no wonder that they seemed to be flirtatious at times. Wink.

During this difficult time, three of them had a bad break-up incident that I needed to comfort. Like a doe caught in a headlight, they were stupefied with what happened. Even if they sort of knew that it was going to happen. Even if they had felt the painful process of disengagements, slowly growing apart from each other. Then suddenly the whirlwind seemed to trap them while they were still in love with their spouses. Back then they didn’t know what to do. And I am guessing that the same still goes around even today.

Another Libran was unsure about his partner’s fidelity and whether he would still see the bucket of gold at the end of the rainbow or not. In a different case, a married Libran was just bewildered when receiving separation papers from her soon to be ex-husband. And that just had to happen right after she delivered her second child. I felt really sorry for my Libra friends for what happened to them lately. Then all of a sudden another strike hit again. Another friend of mine lost his dearly beloved mum.

There was nothing we could do to prevent these mishaps. I felt their hurts and I wish I might be able to lift their spirits just by delivering a joke or snapping a finger or two. Meanwhile, secretly I was linking them in astonishment. They are a bunch of the nicest people on earth. Sweetness that exudes nectars from flowering blooms. Loyalties that would match the faithfulness of an Empire Penguin couple in the Antarctic. (Help, somebody’s been watching too much Planet Earth on BBC).

But is it a coincidence? Why did really extreme malevolent seem to befall on my Libra friends? Can anyone out there enlighten me on the subject?

Then I felt someone of a higher being whispered something to me. Something to relay to the wounded birds that happened to be my friends:

Be patient.
These are difficult times for you guys.

Even the rain will subside.
The thunderstorm will end.
Trust me that one fine day, the sky is going to clear up.
The sun will once more show its warmth.
And life at the Kalahari Desert will once again thrive with abundance.

Okay, I better stop here before I would enter any more reference from Planet Earth. ☺

Your shoulder to cry on,

Prof. Utonium

10,000 BC

2008-03-08T07:49:00.000-08:00

Yes, Indonesia was granted as one of the fist countries to release 10,000 BC (earlier than the US & Japan)! Fantastic ancient heroism. A little too grandiose for me but the graphics and the cinematography were awesome. The action scenes were thrilling enough. The prehistoric animals were very realistic. The story line was nice, except for the part that one could always wonder: Why does it seem that white people always take the leadership in Hollywood movies? Is it a subliminal message that other races should just heed under their directions?

The semi naked men were interestingly sexy of course, very scruffy looking, exactly my cup of tea. I don't know why they assembled the class of 2003 as their cast? Amazingly the new comer, Steven Strait (born 1986) who played the lead, D'Leh was very strong in his part. My complain was to the leading lady, Camilla Belle (also born 1986), who did not use her charmingly beautiful innocence enough there. Reece Ritchie (also born 1986), were some type of a very cute sidekick, playing Moha, that you'll just drool all over.

Actor Steven Strait, in some very titillating poses

Kudos for Steven Strait (my friend insisted that he looked like Collin Farrel while I thought he looked more like a beefed-up Josh Hartnett).

Bring your friends and family!

Greatly smitten by D'Leh,

Prof. Utonium

Waking Up to The Man

2008-03-04T09:24:00.000-08:00

He looked so peaceful and serene next to me this morning. I always loved watching him asleep. Even with a hint of sexy grunts when he was having a dream, he still looked so angelic to me. The sun was up, it was already late. His schedule was packed for the rest of the day. Softly I touched his forehead and rustled his soft hair, “Wakey wakey hunny bun, it’s seven thirty already”.

He mumbled another grunt and turned his face to the other side. There, facing him, I previously laid a cup’o piping hot black coffee on our nightstand. "Do you know where you're going to?" was softly moaned by Diana Ross at the back ground. That rich aroma always got him in the mood for the day. Slowly he woke up, with a grin on his face, he extended his arms shoulder-width “Where’s my baby, I miss him already!” And then he grabbed and pinned me. There we cuddled for some time. Then while putting on a very naughty look he murmured something sweet to my ears, “Babe, ehm, I dunno how to put this in a gentler way, but I am so gawd-dang horny…”

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

It’s that damn, digital alarm clock! God, I was having the nicest dream ever: Waking up to the man on the cover of DaMan, Mr. Mario Lawalata (and there he was supposedly horny for me). Damn that alarm! Damn that morning meeting! It turned out that I was the one who was in trance prior to being slapped from my beautiful hallucination.

You see, Mario, pictured here, and I had some kind of history, if you can even call it that way. Maybe I was the one who had a long history, make that a very very long history of having a crush on this evercute dude called Mario. And only by the power of God, we happened to bump into each other in many occasions.

The trunk show surprise collision was nice. Then on another day I stopped accepting calls while my greedy eyes were fixed on a tv channel. There he was performing his Celeb Dance reality show with Kinaryosih (?). Unbeknownst to me, the next day God would send me to a deserted shopping mall. There I was to fetch some beauty supplement (I swear it was for my cousin!) where I saw him sweating in his tees, practicing a dance number for the next performance on the same tv channel.

And hoping for another chance meeting, the next week I returned to the same deserted building. I was of course disappointed. He wasn’t the one who was dancing. Then le grumbles in my stomach forced me to eat in some food court upstairs where I could also hear balls bouncing on the floor. Inquisitively after that I then searched for the basketball court. There he was drenching in sweat. Only in his shorts, practicing his moves with his basketball buddies.

This then would lead to a very stupid conversation with him about a month later. I was panting and puffing at my gym after the 15 minutes cardio (yes, I pant easily!). God knew I wasn’t pretty with all the sweats dripping off my forehead. Then he came in his all-white gym outfit. I was like: “O.M.G, I am in the same gym with Yourhotness ML?” (stands for Mario Lawalata of korz). Resuming my routines I then sat on the flat bench while he was flicking the TV onto some sport channel. A basketball game emerged. He started to open his mouth to ask me something. And I started to feel faint: “O.M.G, Hishotness is speaking to moi!”

“Do you know the score of last Saturday’s game?” he asked briskly.

Finally, my dream came true. My fantasy knight in a dashingly matching Nike-armor was speaking to me. Oh Lord, thank you for answering my prayers. That was only if, and that’s a big if, I knew the answer to that question. Damn. Why didn’t he just ask a normal question, like who did Penelope Cruz wear at the Oscars! I would be happy to even drop some names on the makeup, the jewelry, the shoes and her delicate little purse.

So back to recent happenings, I was passing this magazine rack at Periplus Senayan. The only thing that crossed my mind was, “Hey the cover guy looks cute, I’ll get the mag later lah”. Only when I was making a left turn on Sudirman later during the day, there was this blowup gigantic advertisement of the same exact issue of the magazine. And it said: March Madness. Mario Lawalata.

Arghh. How could I fail to recognize the man of my dream?

He looked so model-ish there. I missed the beefcaked-goofy Mario that had been embedded in my brain for so long. Digital manipulations? One might ponder.

From the boxer-only scene at “They Call Me Monkey” indie flick. And his glisteningly raising himself from the Jacuzzi pool at the locker room. And the lovely shape of his celtic-cross tattoo on his arm. Or the dark horns settling on the nape of his neck through his strong back. I knew that I photographically memorized him in details. And I would never miss any sightings of him! Ever.

Again, how could I fail to recognize the man of my dream?

Now this looks more real to me.

But anyway, he is still cute as ever.

Forever hopeful,

Prof. Utonium.

End note: Well, if ya can’t get this Mario, I guess I might try the other Mario from the English Service church. A very friendly bear he was indeed.

Warning Signals for The So-called Nice Dudes

2008-03-04T07:36:00.000-08:00

Flipping through the latest issue of a man’s fashion magazine, I was immediately interested in an article about the types of bad women that guys could fall into. Semi-consciously or most of the time unassumingly, we men fell into their traps. And furthermore, the funny thing is that if you just try to swap the words: girl, women, or female and exchange them into your: dude, guy, twink, partner, boyfriend, ex, fling or what have you, not only comparable, but the list actually makes a lot of sense! I felt empowered now that this article suddenly enables me to kinda read people’s insides on whether or not they are gonna be bad for my future. I’m sure you’ll have an eye opener too. Now, omitting only several categories that were specifically gender-based, hereby I present you…

Red Flags

No matter how gorgeous she is, if your woman fits into one of these categories, don’t jeopardize your happiness and well-being, leave immediately.

by John Schweisthal, Jr.

It is probably not a stretch to assume that nearly every guy has made mistakes with women at some point. We’ve been conned, duped and dazed by physical attraction. As men, we make fools of ourselves by kissing the feet of females who treat us like dirt. We’ve wasted countless hours and spent small fortunes in chasing after women who lied to us and used us, and turned out to be rotten. But do we learn from our experiences? Very often the answer to that is NO. With each new relationship, we think it’s going to be different. We think if we just try harder, or do one little thing differently, the result will change. If you keep pursuing the same kind of woman, you’ll just get your heart broken over and over again. Keep a watchful eye out for the following list of women, and you’ll be one step closer to curing yourself of habitual bad dating.

The Gold Digger
She’s out for your money. Pure and simple. This type of woman is the ultimate high maintenance. She expects a man to finance her entire life just because she’s biologically female. To her, a man should pay for drinks, trips, flowers and jewelry, while see feels absolutely no guilt or compulsion to reciprocate. She may be nothing more than a whitewashed harlot. The gold-digger thinks her flower between her thighs is plated with 24 karat gold and is worth a million dollars. She is greed personified, and since she has no concept of someone else’s feelings, her only interest is getting what she wants. Don’t be fooled, some apparently very sweet girls are the greediest of them all.

The Romantic
This type of woman lives in a fantasy world of feminine movies and romance novels. Every night she goes home alone to spend hours flipping through her bridal magazines, imagining that, at any moment, prince charming will ride up on his white horse, sweep her off her feet and offer her a problem-free existence for the rest of her life. The romantic women of the world have been coddled by parents and family, told they are “princesses” and have absolutely no idea that real life consist of paying bills and daily stress. This type of woman will expect to be taken care of, quite possibly as exciting as a corpse in bed, and will, almost overnight, turn into a shrieking nag. Run!

The Elusive
This woman is a close cousin of the romantic, but with a dark side. She is usually one of the walking wounded, someone has been hurt in the past relationships and thus subconsciously avoids or sabotages new relationships in the present. Your association with her may be one of utter frustration, as first she might show great interest in you, but very quickly runs away and then repeats that cycle over and over again. Miss Elusive is the queen of mixed messages. She will flirt with you and date you, but you’ll never pass “friend” status. What you will get us a million excuses for her unavailability, all calculated to deceive herself that she just doesn’t have time for a relationship. Save yourself some heartache and don’t get involved with her.

The Insecure
This woman seems great at the start because she’s very kind, accommodating and treats a man well. But her insecurities don’t take long to surface. Pretty soon she’s calling you 10 times a day, asking “where the relationship is going” or because she “just wants to hear your voice”. She needs constant reassurance that she’s attractive and worries incessantly about her make-up, hair, and the alignment of her clothes. She’s clingy, needy, and compulsively agonizes that you’re going to leave her at any moment for “someone better”. This kind of thing can turn really creepy, really fast.

The Malicious
These women are the sulkers, pouters and ball-buster of the female planet. They are very unpleasant people who treat their fellow humans poorly, care only about themselves and aren’t concerned at all if they hurt you or anybody else. Most malicious women fit into several other categories mentioned, and are usually good-looking and well-dressed. They can easily be identified by the scowls on their faces as they imperiously strut through life.

The Self-Centered
A close relative to the malicious women, this type is entirely focused on herself. A self centered woman needs to be the constant center of attention no matter what she does or where she goes. She is selfish, self-indulgent, self-serving narcissist who was raised as “daddy’s little girl”, and expects the same from you. Unless you enjoy the company of spoiled brats, it is advised to stay far, far away.

The Desperate
Whether it’s her biological clock ticking or she’s the last among her circle of girlfriends to trap a man, a desperate woman wants to get married. Not next year, next month, but now. She doesn’t care who the guy is or what he does, as long as he has a penis and she can drag him to the altar. Gentlemen, watch out for this one.

The Manipulative
She’s a scheming little piece of work who’s an expert at conning men. She will tell you exactly what you want to hear until you’re hooked deep into the relationship (or worse, marriage) and then the truth comes out. Overnight, your sweet little cupcake turns into a demanding, greedy mercenary who will browbeat you into submission if she doesn’t get her way.

The Tease
Usually you can spot a tease a mile away because she flirts with a lot of guys and flaunts her sexuality at every opportunity. Sometimes she sponges off older men; sometimes she’s a ball-buster who enjoys getting men sexually excited and then walking away; and sometimes she just basks in her sexual power by attracting men like bees to honey. No matter how she operates, you can’t trust her because she craves male attention and if somebody better comes along, she’ll dump you in a heartbeat.

The Controller
She is subtly nasty one who will wind up directing every aspect of your life if you’re not careful. She will take control of every phase of your life, what to wear, where to go, who to talk to, what friends you can have, what you can eat, basically everything. And if you try to stand up for yourself, she will deny you sex or cry, scream, pout, or use any other deceptive female tactic until you give in and succumb to her demands.

Be Warned
These are some of the worst women, and should be avoided. Obviously, there are some great women out there who share only a tiny bit of these negative qualities. But it’s always best to be on the lookout for the women listed above. There are thousands of fish in the sea; it’s only a matter of time until you find the right one for you. Now that you know better, if you hook up with one of these women, you have only yourself to blame.

(End of Article)

The Whiner
If I may just add another bad category, I would definitely put the whiners in here as well. The whiners are the ones who blame anything bad that happened to them to someone else. And they will credit everything good to themselves. Samples of bad things could be their wrong upbringing, their spouses, the previous injustices that they’ve experienced, their educations, their conditions in general, their offices, and so on without trying to seek for the core problems or trying to change anything drastic from within. The whiners don’t push the grateful buttons fast enough, well it seemed that nothing would ever be satisfactory for them. Either they get exactly what they wanted, or they will everlastingly whine. Early signs of a whiner may involve someone who seems to complain a lot since nothing pleases them. And that really annoys the hell of some people.

How do you score?
Was it that bad? Well, let me be honest now. I suck at reading people. From this list alone I felt the utter need to visit a psychotherapist. I need some type of help as I seemed to fall into the same trap over and over again. Once I dated a Ms. Elusive, only to frustrate myself with his mixed-signals at the end. And as if having a Ms. Controller as my maternal guidance was not enough, I even dared to date one a while back, resulting in defeats as in loosing the battle of Waterloo. And the most amazing thing happened when then I realized that in my past there was someone who was not only a Ms. Insecure, but at the same time he was also a Ms. Desperate, a Ms. Self-Centered, and a Ms. Controller and to a certain extend he was even a Ms. Gold-Digger and Ms. Manipulative. Woohoo. Talking about a great combination.

So who are you?
I have a bit of a Ms. Control issue within me; I don’t like taking orders from people just like that, especially if it doesn’t sound logical and practical for me to perform. Sometimes I am also known as Ms. Desperate (hence the I-will-date-anyone in a rushed manner, resulting in breakups faster than Elizabeth Taylor in throwing wedding receptions). But most of the time I'd be Ms. Romantic. Yes, and still waiting for my knight in shining armor to sweep me off mah-feet. Along the way I could be a Ms. Elusive, to the people I didn't feel like dating (but still enjoy the sex part). And furthermore, close friends had file complaints that I could be such a baby Ms. Whiner, esp. during my single periods of hell. Bad me, now I am truly sorry for the inconvenience caused.

At the end, having a bit of the negative "qualities" are ok, since we are just mere mortals. But let’s just get real, too much of them are not sexy at all. And for those of you who think that you can get away with anything, maybe it’s not too late do some introspection. You don’t want these nice dudes to leave you sooner or later. And for once don’t blame others. Sometimes, you were the one who'd create the pain, the hassles, and ultimately the asphyxiations in your past relationships because of those negative vibes you were generating. We definitely need more gentlemen (and gentlewomen), who actually give a damn about those really nice guys too.

The eternally damned,

Prof. Utonium

The written piece "Red Flags" was done by John Schweisthal, Jr.
Published in the Dating Section of DaMan Magazine Issue March 2008.
Opening photograph courtesy of Corbis © 2008
Closing photograph courtesy of DaMan © 2008

Saung Kiky. Part 1

2008-02-01T05:38:00.000-08:00

The rain had just stopped outside my window. The pedestrian sidewalk was no longer visible. A waterway, the street in front of me had became. Slowly the flow of water was moving to the north towards the sea. And as if nature had just calmed itself, these serene sounds of the breaking waves buoyed my mind as well. The sun started to regain its strength. Inhaling my cigarette, my memory wandered off to a place that I just visited not too long ago, in fact it was just only yesterday: Saung Kiky.

I was just wondering of how far did we need to ascend on this rather steep and narrow path upon Gadog, Puncak area. And then about ten minutes later, my companion directed me to the right, prior to descending from the car and opening the gates. It was just an unmarked green gate of a simple house. There was this path leading down from the point we parked, there we would find this sparse open-air hangar type of construction. Two embak-embak, female employees, were chatting while sorting and packaging freshly bloomed chrysanthemums. One man was rearranging Christmas bloom pots. We looked rather confused before another man came down from a green house.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“We have an appointment with Pak Kiky”

And then this humble gentleman named, Pak Kiky, the proprietor, greeted us from another green house and asked us to join him up there.

We were awestruck at the beginning. In front of us laid thousands of ready to harvest chrysanthemums in white, yellow, pink and red according to their beds. We said our how do you do-s and then he walked us through his green houses. There was a nursery in which you would grow your seeds into a ready to plant stage. There were this empty cultivated beds, half grown chrysanthemum beds, ready to bloom beds, and finally the ready to harvest beds. Each bed of earth rows are clearly labeled, marked and dated.

“We harvest everyday in here,” he said.

“To keep us busy, we need to create the entire lifecycle here in the plantation. As you see, we start from there, and then the next day we will tend the next bed, in order for us to be able to harvest everyday”.

He talked about a certain dealer that wished to buy 300 bundles of chrysanthemums per-day but he was only able to supply 50 of them. The market are out there, he said.

“Your friend here,” he pointed to his friend, my companion driving up there.

“Is the guy who has the keys to the markets, but he doesn’t have any land to work on. So if you guys are interested, please go ahead. Big cities need more than what we can provide daily” he said referring to Bogor and Jakarta.

It was of course a very interesting proposal. While the walk only needed about 10 minutes around the 4,000 meter-square area, the talk in-which-I-am-most-humbled-about took two hour and a half.

He was describing, or lecturing if you will, of a very simple but deep farmer’s philosophy: give back to nature whatever you take from nature.

“You see that little barn down there? That’s were we keep our lambs. We use the manure from the lambs to give nutrients to the land and to the flowers. And then we use the money from the flower to buy that paddy-fields down there, to grow our own organic rice.”

“Organic? You mean no pesticides?”

“That and dirt-cheap organics I mean”

(To be continued in Part. 2 below)

Saung Kiky. Part 2

2008-02-01T05:22:00.000-08:00

“For pesticides we are using certain vegetables that wouldn’t kill pest, just repel them out of our range. And we also introduced certain bugs that would consume those pests. We just harvested about 2.5 tons of rice. And the waste from the rice, dedak, will then be distributed as feeds for the farm animals, including our geese, ducks and our fish down there. Wild grasses are also cut to feed the lambs”

“I saw you were using planted water hose to systematically water your plantations?

“Oh that, yes, it’s true. We have our own spring in here. And the water is trapped in that basin over there, some of them will be diluted with nutrients in which will be pumped up there to the green houses, and we have an auto-timer for that”

“Oh wow, so how many farmers do you hire here?”

“Just the two gentleman you saw earlier”

“Are you crazy?”

He wasn’t crazy I suppose. He was just purely and ingeniously resourceful. We passed a goose den before reaching the saung to chat further. “These are my security guards.” he said. “These geese will cry if they see any unfamiliar faces, like what they’re doing now, the same goes if some predators are on the loose such as mountain cats or foxes, and they will also alarm you, if any natural events such as earthquakes and mountain eruption will occur”

And then I sat my fat ass on the bale-bale. I was facing vast rice terraces as my buena-vista. It was cool and mellow as the rain had just stopped there. I felt so calm and relaxed there. The air was a combination from the sweetness of fresh air, grass and dirt aroma, and of course a whiff of manure smell from the barn not too far from the saung.

“I am not the owner of this place. The owner is a very busy person down there in Jakarta. He was giving me this place to run. And I am responsible to make it work and expand. As if he was giving me this fishing-rod. I am the one who is fishing, but I am also responsible to share the fish with him”

“Many people today are screaming about the price hike of fertilizers. We don’t have to, we have our own fertilizer farm down there. And using natural pesticides are way way cheaper than those chemical ones. They also don’t harm the land and the plants and there wont be any danger for you to consume them.” he continued.

“Imagine our fertile nation. How can we face any lack of food, any lack of tempe (soybean cake)? Gone are the times when all farms were self sufficient like this one. Thirty years ago, someone started forcing us to consume ready-made things for the farms such as those seeds, fertilizers, and even pesticides. Now we are too dependent on other nations. Look at Japan, with only 40% of their lands are being used, they can still supply rice for their own rice-eating nation and even export them here” he stopped to lit his cigarette.

“We hire villagers in times of needs, sometimes we supply them with food on top of that. Crime often happen if you are hungry. That’s what we are trying to avoid here. Not only for your stomach, every week we are having this pengajian (religious gathering) in here to supply our food for thoughts and for our hearts. And as a manager, I need to be efficient yet trustworthy to also be a role model for my employees.”

It was total eye-opener. As if an extension of some sabda (words) from the Lord, Pak Kiky's lecture were both heart-warming and as I mentioned, eye-opening. Even the geese that quacked insolently before, then gathered themselves naturally and just relax their long necks on top of each other's back.

That seemingly humble place was actually a very effectively ran farm. They waste not and they sell the surplus. Very smart.

Then he gave me the permission if I wanted to bring some school kids up there to feel the farm and to help him out for a day. Why can’t people like him be our agriculture minister?

It definitely worked for Saung Kiky.

Rolled up jeans, bare feet, country-styled,

Prof. Utonium

Natural Order of Learning

2008-02-01T02:50:00.000-08:00

Another wrath from the sky. The earlier one in December had cost me a lot already when my engine was flooded just five hundred meters from my abode. People predicted that the big flood would not surface in another 5 years. Wrong. It was right out of my doorstep, just another year from the last one. And to reach my doorsteps, trust me, it had to be very big. Sometimes I wonder, what have we done so wrong to receive these angers? Can we do anything –at all- to help fix the harms done in the past?

For sometimes now, my self and a good friend of mine, had been discussing about an alternative education system for our youngsters. As he is a father of a two-year old boy, he is going to have to make that decision faster than we would imagine. What type of education shall his son receive soon? Then he mentioned something wonderful. It wasn’t anything radical or brand new, in fact several foundations had already established the kind of methods we were talking about around the outskirts of Jakarta and Bandung. It is called sekolah alam or natural learning.

The objective of such school is to have an affordable education system with nature as its greatest learning source. As most major schools and especially international ones had been Americanized by air-condition installments, state of the art laboratories, expatriate educators, fancy teaching equipments, fantastic gymnasiums and even Rp. 50,000,- a meal cafeterias, we were trying to re-embrace the soul of the school foundation itself: Teaching and Learning.

Learning doesn’t have to be expensive. In those sekolah alam you may find no formal classrooms, only open air saung (huts) and some simple administrative buildings. Sometimes they would take the blackboard outside and gather-round under a canopying tree (very Jesus-like eh?). Or they would plant herbs and vegetables from seeds, grow fish and poultries, all for the consumptions of the school and the neighboring communities. They were taught to be dependent on nature, not from what’s available on the isles of the supermarket. With this they need to learn how to be creative, how to grow, how to save, and how to appreciate nature.

An interesting note came from a natural school in Ciganjur, South Jakarta:
“The kids are encouraged to freely explore his/ her surrounding. They are not forced to wear any uniform. Diversity in here is seen as a basic-right of any individual, in which needs to be acknowledged and respected. We are sure that the uniformity doesn’t have to be seen from what are they wearing, we would stress more consistency in their good wills, conducts, behaviors, and also their never-ending passion to learn and of course their curiosities”

I personally think that this is a very good step in re-acknowledging nature. Modern thinking and modern ways of life pampered us thus far. In fact in supporting our lifestyles, sometimes it was seen as “okay” to develop humanity while destroying our own natural resources. Look what happened lately.

Imagine that the earth is our own head and the trees and the grass that grew naturally is our own hair. And then we drill and suck the blood out of our head. And then we thrust concrete beams into the depth beneath our skulls. And then, we need to burn our own hair to create land openings for real estates. And imagine having head-lice that run freely, habit, and create their generations of families on top of our head. Wouldn’t you scratch your itches too? Would you shake your head in hope that all those lice will just fly away? Wouldn’t you go under the shower to wipe out all the bugs? I wouldn’t blame nature if it seemed to be so angry to us. A little bit of love may go along way for our future.

Ancient scriptures might clearly state that we as human beings have the rights to command all living things on earth. Just because it doesn’t qualify as neither animals, plants or human beings, sometimes we forgot that our planet is a living organism too. The air moves, the water runs, and the earth shakes. It needs to be acknowledged as we acknowledged other living things. It needs to be taken care too.

My friends, along with our rights, responsibilities also came with them.

Glad to be back,

Prof. Utonium

She Says I Love You, He Says What?

2007-09-25T09:38:00.000-07:00

Some say that when you fall in love, you’d feel the butterfly-in-your-tummy effect. You want to be with your dearly-beloved-one every day, every night, and if possible, 24 hours a day. You feel this bond, as if both of you own the world. And the rest? They only rent the place and making the world overly crowded. Who need the others when you already have each other?

There is this thing pumping hard in your body, which makes your heart beats irregularly. Then out of nowhere it just came out, you blurted… “I love you”. Then there was a moment of silence. He then looked at you, with unfathomable mimic, and sometime later he just simply hugged you.

No? You’ve never experienced such a thing? I had. At that time, I was amazingly shocked. He was the one who treated me so well and I felt that his affections were abundant. Why all of the sudden, all he could produce in return was just a hug? Calm down girlfriends. It turned out that showing his feelings towards me was like performing bungee jump for the first time. “Tho I still prefer the bungee instead,” he added.

What is it with men expressing their feelings? Is it really that hard for them to say these three little words? Ladies, it turned out that men have other ways of saying, “I love you”. Take Satria for instance, a dude in his late 30-s. Once he said, “I may sleep with her, may marry her, may take care of her, but stating the sentence I love her in front of her? Oh brother, that’s something else!” This was his wife of 5 years he was talking about.

Why? According to Dr. Brenda Shoshanna, a relationship expert and the writer of “Why Men Leave”, there are several reasons for this,

Saying “I love you” is definitely not that simple. For men, it means a lot more than simply expressing a feeling. For some it feels like a lifetime commitment, for others it is fraught with dangers. They feel that they’ve got to really trust her and know she won’t throw their love away in order to actually say the words to her. They’re afraid of rejection, because this also could be viewed as an invitation to get hurt.

For many men, love is expressed through action, so it can also be considered as a promise of what is to follow. It’s about commitment and faithfulness. Again, these words alone can be very scary for some men.

Yet, naturally, men do love and different types of men express their love differently. Now, from the list below, take a note whether or not your man had done these actions previously, even if he hadn’t got the nerve to mention those three-little-words:

Through Gifts. Some men express their love through bringing gifts to their women. There are many different kinds of gifts a man can give. These include the ones wrapped in cute packages, candies, flowers, or special notes. Giving their time to you may also be considered as gifts. When they are spending more time with you –hence the lesser time spent with his friends and family- this too is a way of saying that they love you.

Being with You. By standing up for you during difficult times, attending important events or functions with you, going to your family with you, planning trips, dates or outings, and putting you first in their thoughts are surely their ways of expressing their feelings.

Through Making Love. There are also some men who say “I love you” by passionately and affectionately making love to you. Yes, the intimacy made them felt that they’ve loved you and often felt loved as well. It’s because that for men the physical contact would break down any barrier and thus providing a closeness that they wouldn’t feel otherwise. Although sex could be so many different things for different individuals, for many, it may mean to exceed her biological and intimate needs while meeting his needs as well.

Meeting His Friends and Relatives. Another way of saying “I love you” is to take you home to meet his family and his close-knitted friends. Not only it served the purpose of showing that he’s proud of you, but he also wanted you to connect with the people who mean the most to him. Love, in the deepest sense, includes sharing all aspects of ourselves with another.

Through being Jealous. Believe it or not, some men express their love through being jealous or having a possessive behavior. Why? It’s because that they do not want to share your attention with anyone. For these men, it would be very upsetting for him if you speak highly of other men or if he caught you glimpsing at another guy. He simply doesn’t want to loose you.

To conclude, to express love sometimes men don’t do it literally. It would be helpful if you can keep a journal of your relationship. Take a few minutes to note: What have you received that day and also what did you give him back or what are you willing to give in return. Write them down and do be specific. Note everything nice starting from his phone-calls, kind words, a surprise visit, a simple SMS, and many other sweet little things. I am sure that you’ll be amazed at the results by the time you realized how much had he given himself to you.

by Ayu Wulan

Published piece in
Column: “Vice Versa”
Publication: 69++ Lifestyle and the City Magazine
Issue: September 2007
Picture © Corbis. 2007

Eternal Bliss

2007-09-16T22:34:00.001-07:00

It had been a while since the last time I would passionately confer over a movie that was worthy of our time to be discussed following a screening. Even while walking down the steps of the theater room, bebe had already started questioning me, “Do you feel like you could relate to the movie at any point of your lifetime?” Of course I nodded in agreement. If you’d loved someone ever so dearly, why sometimes you would find it so hard -in your own reasoning- to express your true feeling towards this person? And if so, how long are you willing to hold it steady in the deepest chamber of secrets in your heart? That is if you would ever… ever tell.

Eternal Summer, was the movie that we watched in Blitz last weekend. Armed with a buy-one-get-one-free bliss provided by Sensen’s HSBC, the five of us cheerfully went into the screening room, sheltering ourselves from the sweltering heat at the beginning of this fasting season. No wonder that this nominee for four Golden Horse awards was chosen as the opening flick at the Queer Film Festival not too long ago. Though I wouldn’t say that it was one of the greatest festival entries that I had ever watched (hence the I’m-not-sure-if-they-actually-won-any- of-the-nominated-category-at-Golden-Horse), but surely it hit home with the story line that the director, Leste Chen gave the audience.

It was a classic story of two different worlds in which collided in the least expected manners. Either natural or forced, any harbored dislikes and hatred was then erased, and grew to a higher level of friendship, as philadelphia, and sometimes the relationship even developed deeper. At least one character thought so towards the other.

Back then, I was Jonathan (played by Bryant Chang), who by chance got to know Shane (played by Hsiao Chuan Chang), a need-a-spanking restless boy with a short term attention disorder who preferred the disruptions of any harmonious balance in everything stable in this world. Well, my Shane wasn’t as bad as him. But I could force some sort of resemblance between them: the bad boy look, the I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude, the passion for basketball, and of course the menacing rugged good-looks that they sported.

While my world thought that I was dating someone else back in high-school (and let me tell you, they didn’t think that I was dating a girl to start with!), secretly I had the biggest crush on my Shane. We lived so far apart, our hobbies were very different, we hang out with different crowds, it was almost unlikely that our paths would ever cross. Then one day, my Shane was transferred to my classroom. I remembered how delighted I was that day. And the rest was history, we became quite close with one another, our groups started to mingle with each other. In short he then gave me the best camaraderie that I would ever need.

Call it awestruck, stupefied, or even insanity, but I was so jealous when finally my Shane met a girl to call his own. I remembered being so mad at him for “unknown reasons”. That was before inquisitively he noticed the change in me towards him. Felt cornered one fine day, I sighed and let a confession streamed on how I truly felt about him. I didn’t care how his reaction would be, young and naïve I was, I just needed to show him that I did care a lot (if not more) about him.

He was of course shocked and confused. And then about ten minutes later (maybe out of beddazlements) he insisted that it wouldn’t be wise for us to see each other again (this was supposed to be my dramatic-big-bang-ending). I was crushed to the bone. It was the first time that I would understand the meaning of word heart-broken. Like you felt the squishing agony in your chest, the sudden disillusionment that your world just ended, and the extreme sadness that your loved ones not only left you for another human being, but he was also cutting the lines of friendship with you. Other than passing-away relatives, this was then the first time I would cry over loosing someone dearly special to me.

Three weeks later my pembantu gave me a bark, “Sir, you have someone on the phone”. I was so grateful that I was actually my Shane, “Jonathan, I… I dunno how to say this, but… I miss you. You were my best friend, we were always together in good and bad times. No one would try to understand me better than you. I don’t want to loose you here. You are still my best friend.”

So how are you doing over there buddy? And now, I know that you are reading this my Shane. I want you to know that I still love you –in a way of course! Don’t freak out- and I am so glad that I still have you as one of my bestest friends in the entire universe. But of course I still have a secret that you might not know previously. Oh, it’s just a little fact that I would like to share to you, that, umm, yes, you were my first love. Ever.

Warm Hugs,

Prof. Utonium

The Lie Detector

2007-09-16T22:29:00.000-07:00

“Now, the world should see my latest creation…” the Professor started. “I would name this robot a Slap-O-Matic, which would slap you so hard if it detected even the slightest trial of straying from the path of truthfulness!” And the audience gave him a standing ovation. The launching party went on through the wee hours of the morning in that eventful weekend.

Monday eve then came and the Professor anxiously waited for his son to come home for dinner at the living room. “Where were you?” he asked coolly to his son. The son then answered, “As usual Dad, on Mondays I had my English course at Mrs. Ang’s”. The machine suddenly whirled on its wheels and slapped the boy with its paws.

“Ouch, what was that for?” he yelped.

“This is the Slap-O-Matic son, it would slap anyone who isn’t telling the truth! Mrs. Ang called your mom three hours ago to notify us that you weren’t in her class!”

“Okay I went to Tom’s house to play billiards”

Slap.

“Okay, we were watching a movie” the son said anxiously anticipating another slap.

“What movie?”

“Pirates of the Caribbean”

Slap.

“Okay okay, it was just called Pirates, an x-rated spoof of the movie…”

“Jee, son, you know better that watching these kinds of movie will cloud your young mind and turn you into a no good person in the future. How would you become a good leader of the community if sex would be the only thing that you have in your mind! I myself, had never ever watched these kind of films when I was your age or your grandma would have already killed me for this!”

Slap. The machine whirled back on the Professor himself.

“What the….” the professor barked at the machine.

“Hahhaha….”, his wife gave a laugh-out-loud from the kitchen. “Guys, men are always the same everywhere no? See, you and your son! You know… an apple never fell too far off the apple tree!”

Suddenly the machine rolled its wheels towards her.

Slap.

And then silence fell upon them.

The A.R.K

2007-09-12T11:46:00.000-07:00

Unwilling and burdened to perform the task he was assigned for, one day Evan asked God, “I don't understand why You chose me?”

"You wanna change the world son, and so do I...” He said.

Then He continued, “People wanna change the world… Don’t know how to begin. Do you wanna know how to change the world son? One act of random kindness at a time”

By the time when Evan acted upon His wish to build an ark, his family was forced to flee the town for the unbearable shame that they had to face due to the public opinion that he was indeed senile. During one of the most doubtful times in her life, Joan, his wife had a very interesting chat with a stranger. Yet she didn’t know that she was conversing with God Himself:

“But my husband says, God told him to do it. What do you do with that?” she asked.

“Sounds like an opportunity…” God responded.

And when she looked back at him confused, He continued, “Lemme ask you something… If someone prays for the patience, you think God gave him patience? Or does He give him the opportunity to be patient?”

“If he prayed for courage, do you think God gave him courage or the opportunity to be courageous?”

“And if someone prayed for the family to be closer, you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings? Or does He give them opportunity to love each other?”

Then finally she understood.

It came to no surprise that generally people around me would characterize me as a pretty gentle-dude. Yes, that most of the times I procured cute gifts on their birthdays and anniversaries. Yes, that I tried to be there when they needed me the most. Yes, that I would sometimes give donations for charities or offerings in the masses that I (seldom) attended. Yes, that I gave my efforts in fixing or moving things for people that I care about. But personally, it seemed so long ago (I couldn’t even remember when) that I really helped someone in dire needs of my personal assistance.

Other than the extreme hunger and thirst that I have to endure during my early-bird puasa/ fasting (as commanded by my shinse), I began to learn on how to be more patient, then also how to control my emotions better. While this experience actually humbled me a lot, as the ultimate effect, I then felt this extreme longing to give a part of myself to someone. A gift so great that would be utterly appreciated by the person I was helping, because she/ he was unable to help him/ herself at that time. Be it someone from my family, someone from my circle of friends and workplace, or even a total stranger.

After that I was semi-consciously repeating this stanza over and over again in my head: “If someone prayed for a value of life, you think God gave him a mocha tinted Maybach? Or a lot in Dharmawangsa? Or a key into his “treasure” at vault DBS? Hmm. (Sorry got carried away). Or does He give him the opportunity to be valuable?”

Then today, surprisingly, the opportunity to do so came upon me, gripping the core of my heart ever so tightly. It was as if the time stopped when it hit me.

(And for the sake of special-effects, there was an actual earth-quake shaking the grounds beneath my feet)

While Aryans tended to have big aspirations to change the world, very few actually knew where to start. And as God once said to Evan:

“One act of random kindness at a time”

With that note, I would also like to end this writing with an apology. For any wrong doings that I had committed in the past, for I am sure that there were too many. Especially to all my Muslim friends who are beginning the holy Ramadhan season this week. Let’s build a clean slate and start with a new heart in each and every one of us.

Overjoyed I was today (and over a strawberry shortcake as well):
Selamat Berpuasa

Tangerang, September 13th 2007.

The first part of this writing was taken from the script of
“Evan Almighty”
© Universal Picture. 2007

Under Pressure

2007-09-05T09:56:00.000-07:00

“You know I’m really concern about your state of health. First you still smoke like a chimney and also how your lower-joints would support your bulk in the future darling? All you have to do is try at least once lah. You’ve got nothing to loose except those excess pounds blasted off of your waistline. Look at me, am I not gorgeous now?” Mom said to me once again -after several attempts- to take me to a Shinse last week.

Finally (and open-minded-ly I might add) we reached an agreement. First, I would only go there with her by my side to create the grand introduction to Pak Leo, the Shinse (Chinese traditional medical practitioner). Second, refusing to drive that far in the traffic-ladden Pluit, I asked for her driver instead to take us there. And third, I would have nothing that would involve any electrocution device and thorny instruments (aka needles) .

Got there pretty early for his terms of services, it was almost 11 before noon. Patients were lining up already. For the joint problems, for the lymphatic circulation problem, for the non-surgical eye corrections, for beauty treatments, and of course for people like me with the weight problems that I had been having for the last 7 years or so.

Sat meself on the bench I did after reaching the waiting room. Mom then walked in to talk to the administrative staff. Several seconds later she called me in, disregarding the long lines outside, I was aghast. This was truly what I call: Like Mother; Like (her gay) Son. We are impatient people and we don’t wait in lines. If there’s a “toll-way” -the way she described it- then why would we have to go through the regular lane?

Even after being fast-forwarded to the first in line, we still had to wait for the Shinse to come down for an hour or so. The wait was semi-nerve-wrecking for me though: These skilled masters will read you like a book whether you want it or not. His mind would operate in an Alpha wave (on 8-13.9 Hz) or even below (like Theta or Delta) in order to heal people and cleanse their illness (or at least that’s how I felt). Oh yes, he was going to read through me. What if he was then a big homophobe? What if he wouldn’t support my ubber-being?

Calming myself I closed my eyes and used a simple yoga breathing technique that a friend of mine taught me. Cherished the intake and the exhale of every breath, my mind started to go to that state of being totally aware and sleepy but still conscious. I then felt content and deeply relaxed. That was of course before the utter disturbance of the nasal sound that Mom would yell in, “Hey Jerry, how are you? Is Dad still upstairs?” He replied promptly that his father would be down very soon. With that masculine raspy voice softly crawling through my earlobes I opened my eyes. Gosh this Jerry guy was actually so cute. He was a what-were-you-thinking type of fashion-perpetrator, but somehow the odd pairing of striped work shirt (with buttoned-sleeves) and his khaki cargo pants made him somewhat sexy in enveloping his nice frame and rather sweet face. Oh, the temptation! I even asked Mom if we could be treated by Jerry instead the next time we got there (and she gave me a look of disbelieve!). So, thankfully before my mind went off further, finally the dad descended from the throne upstairs.

So this is him. My first impression was mixed between a half-drunken master yet he also sported that well-regarded shaman aura. Soon it all came to an end when he sat me on a chair, touched my knees and he pointed to me exactly the places where I suffered my past gout attacks. I gulped. According to his readings, the reason why I found it ever-so hard to loose weight had a lot in common with the toxins that caused my gout attacks. They were blocking the nutrients from being absorbed into my body and also blocking the way for excess waste to the bodily drainage system. The scary part was that the entire left-side of my body is ridden with those impurities. That’s why I had these migraines, muscle aches/cramps, and gouts attacks in which only happened in the left side of my physical being. Simply, I was stunned.

Later on I found him cordial if not highly likeable all together. He shared his tips not only how to live a healthier lifestyle, but also general tips from "how to manage people in your company with heart" to "how to attract returning customers". Gawd, -sekali tepuk dua lalat- people said (swatting two flies at once). And get this, he wanted me to shave my beards so that would attract more women he emphasized. Yippey. Life is great!

Along the way, it was also rather scary that I could feel his energy traveled through my veins without even touching my body. While the method of locking the hunger-gate by intrusively pressing his fingertips on my omentum was weird, but that was nothing compared to the pain that I had to tolerate while performing his acupressure know-how on my earlobes. And of course the not-so-funny thing was that I had to endure the pain while focusing to his instructions on the diet program he was designing especially for my needs.

In three days he said that the toxins would be flushed out, the muscle and gout pains would be elevated, but the gone-wrong system had to be treated again when he is due back from some jobs abroad in October he said.

So these are the major things that he wanted me to chant daily:
1. Have a determined mind to reach this goal
2. Be happy (being mad or being sad will actually stop the system from working)
3. Be grateful and have a high acceptance on whatever the Lord gave me to enjoy or even to endure.

Later that night when I saw my bebe, I even gave him two more news, in which jollified him: The bad one was that since I couldn’t eat, drink and be merry as usual for the next two weeks or so, thus this highlighted the fact that my cigarettes were the only consolations that I would have. But the good thing was that I didn’t have as much desire to smoke as before, even the cigs tasted like they’d been dipped in someone’s arse fer Pete's sake.

Furthermore, wait, did Mr. Shinse said that I wasn’t allowed to have sex? Lemme retrace his instructions. Hmm.

All I can remember was the nice words that he left me at the end of the session: “I know you will succeed in whatever thing you are doing later on. I see that you possess a righteous mind and a very kind heart”

That stopped my heart from beating for about a second. One of the nicest things that anyone ever said to me ever!

So friends I am sorry to inform you, that you wont see me eating and drinking my regular rations the next time we hang out. But I strongly hope that you’ll see me in one of those cosmo-hunk calendar supplements by next year. Yeah yeah, I know it’s a stretch, but one has to start somewhere.

Festival-Kyu

2007-09-02T23:56:00.001-07:00

“You know it’s kinda nice to be with all these queers in the same room outside a club or a bathhouse for that matter…” a dear friend of mine said during the week of Jakarta’s Queer Film Festival. Even though I personally felt that the hype wasn’t as strong as the two previous q-festivals, nevertheless it was a pretty good event storming down Townsville at the end of August.

It was also a shame that during the same week my schedule had been as insane as can be imagined with work, life and other functions. First it was my brother’s birthday, then the ongoing and upcoming events that we had to supervise at work, friends’ birthdays and other parties to attend, another painting exhibition is on the way on top of that, and most of all, a new relationship was emerging on the horizon.

Not that I haven’t tried to squeeze my schedules to attend the anticipated screenings of the festival though. I was already there for the opening party (got bored and left by another hour). And again, I was there for the opening film, Eternal Summer -only to find out that the movie started at around 10 PM- in which wouldn’t accommodate my further engagements that night. I was there again Monday night in order to watch Tan Lines in Blitz -a little bit late- and as expected the tickets would all-been booked. So regretfully we simply went to see Rush Hour 3 instead (Chris Tucker at his utmost annoying being ever!).

At least I got to see the opening of a photo exhibition by Taguchi Hiroki at Japan Foundation on Monday. In which, was awesomely beautifully done, that I decided to utilize Sensen’s camera phone to capture the moments (see the exhibits below).

It was a still-preview -in a way- at the making of Hatsu-Koi, a Japanese entry for this year’s festival. I was even touched by the second show, Living Together, on how you would continue living with your life or with your friends who are positive with HIV/ AIDS in terms of: “We are still breathing and alive aren’t we? Now what do you want to make/ do with it?”. Then I remembered that there was an Indonesian term for this: “Nasi sudah menjadi bubur, sekarang tinggal mau dibikin jadi bubur apa?” (The rice in the boiler had unexpectedly turned into porridge; now what kinda porridge shall we make for dinner?).

On that note, I then promised meself, that before the festival ended, I would at least enjoy one screening that the organizers had held for us to watch. Saturday came, and since I had to be somewhere else that time, I missed Hatsu-koi all together. You had been waiting for the screening for the entire week and then something came up! I felt a pang in my heart. The only thing that would mend my broken heart (ah… the drama) was the sight of a huge mercenary-cum-night darling drag-queen who moved her lips to the tunes of “I’ve been to paradise but I never been to youu….” (and also the the nicely priced hardcore drinks) at the WestPac‘s closing party.

And an hour later a big dude by the acronym of JA said hi to us, “Hey how’s it going guys? Just got here now!” he said with a wide-grin on his face. We were like: “Yeah right! But anyway darling your make-up matches your amazing long dress and capes!”. Then suddenly Mister Dije said to me, “Dude, you never read the instructions, do you? There’s in fact another screening for Hatsu-Koi in Erasmus by 3 o’clock tomorrow”. For the love of anything Japanese, then I smiled back -in a very masculine way, while holding a straight from the bottle Heini- at a cute Japanese looking dude who was sitting at the sofa.

So there it was, Hatsu-Koi, very cute and cheeky, not as I would expect, but surprisingly welcomed. And best of all, the Japanese aforementioned happened to be the movie’s director, Imaizumi Koichi, who was there with his boyfriend (or at least the gestures said so), Iwasa Hiroki, the sound engineer.

By five another call descended on my cell, “I’ve secured two extra invites for the closing film. Be there or be squared!”. Great, I squeezed Guapo’s arm and drag him to the next show.

A long time ago, I’ve read the first of the series of books by the title Jakarta Undercover. I thought it was just interesting. Maybe the general public would be wowed by the so-called secrets that the city may hold post-sundown. It wasn’t any big secret for me though. Really, due to my reckless youth, ‘twas just one of those been there done that. Thus the so-so effect upon reading the book.

Now, it was another sweet surprise for me to see the movie, Jakarta Undercover, the second, and one of the only two movies I ever watched at this year’s festival. Very fast paced it was, as if the audiences weren’t given any chance to take a breather. Loved Fachri’s performance, loved the cinematography, the general acting could be better though. However, I had to give credits for Luna Maya who performed better than she ever did anywhere period (she could be better but hey, it was pretty good for a “model”).

While Eternal Summer, the opening show that I missed is being sold at Blitz now, I utterly missed the Bubble (gawd, where do I find thee from now on) and Kala (in which I hope would go into dvd-s… if ever!).

At the end I could only wish that the event was a success and I thank everyone in the organizations for providing a queer event that we, the community and the general public could enjoy together. I mean this event even sweetly outed two of my friends, Parasol and Neutrogena (willingly and unwillingly) to muggle friends and family members.

See you guys next year.

Note: Now I can at least give a half-smile looking at Dewi’s latest cover (with Luna Maya on it) better than my usual scolding smirk at her. Ah, she also works with NGO-s now… Good for her.

Hatsu-Koi

2007-09-02T21:48:00.000-07:00

Photo Exhibition
by Taguchi Hiroki
Japan Foundation
August 27th 2007

Excerpts from
Hatsu-Koi
The making of Hatsu-Koi (First Love), a movie directed by Imaizumi Koichi

Living Together

2007-09-02T21:37:00.000-07:00

Photo Exhibition
by Taguchi Hiroki
Japan Foundation
August 27th 2007

Excerpts from
Living Together
Living with our dearest friends and family members with HIV/ AIDS

Homogenic Independence Day

2007-08-23T11:47:00.000-07:00

The sky was unwelcomingly cloudy. I felt such an immense desire just to be idle and simply do nothing that morning. And as if the dark clouds had moved into my bedroom, suddenly my phone rang. It was from Tornado, a colleague of mine. Drowned in his own panic attack, he blurted: “Dude, from now on you better take care of your movements. They’re now getting suspicious about your homosexuality!” With that news the lightning struck clamoring any loose objects and my windowpanes. The rain then poured harder and all we could do were just to sit tight and welcome the torrential storm on that unglamorous Tuesday.

Genesis
The story began on that fateful Friday, our independence-day holiday. I was about to meet a friend who would introduce me to an artist for an exhibition in our premises. Blah (my friend) came with Sashimi, a female friend of ours, along with Imogen and her husband Peso.

Apparently as the painter couldn’t come with them, Imogen, the painter’s cousin showed me a catalog of the paintings. The colors were intense -if not rather angry- in their moods. The intensities were amazingly brilliant, I really wanted the public to grab these astonishing feelings as well as I did. Therefore, it was decided that it was okay for us to have his solo-show there.

Not too long after that, blame my over-friendly state of being, I got to know the fact -in a small world that we are living in- that this Imogen person actually are somewhat related to Hibiscus, the girlfriend of my abovementioned colleague, Tornado.

So, just wait. You knew it was coming didn’t you? The storm was definitely brewing straight to my direction.

Out of the Blue
Came Monday, it was rather sweet and the sun was shining nicely, if not a bit scorching for a 10 AM. I guessed not long after that, Imogen called Hibiscus on the phone and imperturbably mentioned something in the line of: “Hey I didn’t know that you are a friend of Prof. Utonium (-me, the writer-)? I got to meet him on Friday, and he was with a friend of mine whom I know so well. And guess what? He is gay!! So so… (in gossip-mode: ON) do you think… err… the Professor could also be… gay?”

So as any regular muggleborn would, the news shocked Hibiscus to the core. She then relayed the news to her boyfriend, Tornado.

Hence the frantic call on the next thunder-pounding morning.

Curiosity Kills the Cat
Why was this news became a great shock to them? For Hibiscus and her entire family. I was actually cool about it. The only regret was just, that I was infinitely annoyed that Imogen had against my will sent my panicky colleague, Tornado to even a higher level of terrifying delirium.

My family, close friends, and close-related colleagues at work already understood about my so-called little “secret”. So what was this chaotic insanity all about then? I was so demure about it until later in the evening, when someone else actually gave me a harassing call: “So, ehm Professor, who then was with you when you met Imogen last Friday, I wonder?” (Lavishly spoken along the style that I could reply with– “I don’t like your tone there Missy!!”)

My reply was court and simple,
“Oh I asked Blah, a good friend of mine to arrange a meeting at my place so we could exhibit the paintings of Imogen’s cousin. Why?”

She didn’t reply much.

Agitated
Annoyed to the hilt, sms-ed Hibiscus then I did:
“Darling how are you? Wheww the gossip on me today was insane no? Oh wow, so I guess you guys had never met or known any gay/ lesbian person personally no? Well, maybe you guys should go out more and know more people out there hehe… Let me kill Imogen for you for spreading ill-news without the consent of the owner, hehe…”

And to make it worse, in the same evening, Tornado seemed to be stricken by an intense migraine (presumably because of this?). I sent him home early.

For a while, Hibiscus seemed to fail in replying the message. The only thing I did was just to calm my nerves and pray (ever-so-again) to God: “Dear Lord, I have no idea how the simple meeting would turn into this ugly mess. I have no idea what tomorrow will look like as the outcome. I have faith in You and I know that You know what’s best for me lah… I thank You again for always being there for me. Amen.”

And three hours later an sms reply came from Hibiscus:

“Oh so sorry Kuya… I didn’t mean to spread rumors or to hurt you in anyway (in which were done already, btw)… Please don’t think about it (you think?) and please do not tell this to anyone, cuz I felt bad already, and I don’t want Imogen to know about this. Sorry again and thank you for understanding”

I replied:
“It’s ok lah, but I just chopped Imogen with the infamous red-axe into seven meaty pieces ready to be boiled in a gravy of chicken broth. Haha…”

Ignoramus
Deliberately I wouldn’t contact Imogen, I didn’t feel the urge to further defend myself against her peculiar inquiry. But however, a question still lingered in my mind: Imogen, how could you be so unaware of things?

You might have lived in Utopia-land for so long, you might have been the lead-vocal of an underground goth-band, you might even be open-minded about things, but there was one thing that you forgot to calculate: The reaction of simple muggleborns like Hibiscus alike.

Next time, thinketh lah, before ye speaketh ya?

There’s nothing to forgive even if I wanted to. You didn’t do anything wrong Imogen, you just slipped and did not realize that you were just being simply-ignorant on an extremely delicate issue that mattered to some people.

Jangan Ganggu Bencong
Somehow I just knew that good things are the only things that the next dawn is bringing. I don’t wanna think about it too much. I got work to do and many many chores to perform. And most of all, right here, right now, I am missing mi Don Guapo so much.

Mahal, dimana kamu?

Got Nailed

2007-08-21T11:49:00.000-07:00

I didn’t catch the warnings it was showing me within the last couple of weeks: The heavy drag, the suspiciously higher gas consumptions, and the less than standard agility in which this hatchback shouldn’t have performed. On the surface it seemed to be all nice and dandy. Even flooring the pedal in the Kebun Jeruk – Karawaci tol strip, in which I have to patronize more than I wished for- Captain Righteous (my car) however, was still stable in every way. The grip was doing fine, even slicing through puddles of water were done at ease with no hazardous slip. But reaching 0-100 kmph was extremely slow compared to what Captain Righteous and I had achieved in the past.

So there I was feeling a little queasy after the long haul from Pondok Indah, I decided to make a left turn at an available Shell gas station. It shocked me to find out that the air-pressure in the back-right tire was only 18 psi. Sumthin’ was wrong. But I didn’t know how definitely scary circumstances were.

The next day, before going to work I managed to fit Captain Righteous in a tire workshop to see if anything had gone awry. Apparently, the mechanic said, the maker of the car had put some very nice brand of rubber as Captain Righteous’ footings. “It should’ve been flat like my worn out sneakers seeing what happened here!”

He extracted 6 (yes, six) nails from one tire alone!! The others were ostensibly fine.

Now I remembered.

The Permata Hijau overpass going to Pondok Indah are frequently hit by coward cons posing as nail-spreaders to milk extra cash from unwilling clients for patching their tires- when the going gets though. And this was the exact overpass that I had to go through every single day from home to work.

My stomach churned. I wanted to take my wand out and simply perform an ill-fating excruciation curse to whoeva did spread those rusty nails on public roads for their own gains.

But since I was tortured and forced to read a book by the name of Secrets (by Rhonda Byrne), I now need to have a positive outlook: I pray that these people (can I say dimwit here?), would soon realize that only bad things will come along by harming others. Ouch, for fuck sake, can I just do a stampede charm on them instead?

Back to the workshop then. He asked me whether or not I wanted a new tire replacement. I was like, “Can you just simply fix them instead with some chemical rubber hole-filler and hardener?”

Shall I worry? I mean, with the newly found six tears in the tire, it meant that the same tire had suffered 9 strokes in total (for it had 3 nail attacks prior to this).

Of course, according to the workshop mechanic, everything will be just fine.

Another one of those “This is so Indonesia!” moments.

Hidup tukang tambal ban!
Long live ye rubber patcher!

Touched

2007-08-17T20:54:00.000-07:00

Ages ago the last time it seemed that I was being serious with anyone. Being single for so long made me forgot how would it feel to have someone special take-care of you (of course along with dotting friends and family members). All the while I was constantly praying to be given someone who’d appreciate me for who I really am. And then suddenly, the universe above gave me someone that I could call my own and Stevie Wonder seemed to rent his opening act to me. For once in my life I have someone who needs me, someone I've needed so long.

While no one is perfect, he was indeed perfect enough for me. His warm smiles and his cuddly hugs, his attentiveness that was shown towards me, his eagerness to assist me in many occasions, they were all taken into good accounts. We even work in the vicinity of each other; thus dinner dates were frequent, amicable and most of all enjoyable. It was like that all the stars were placed strategically on a perfect alignment to support our means.

But I wonder why, when you prayed so hard and you were given what you’ve prayed for, sometimes, just sometimes, something still appear to be missing. This is what I called the butterfly effect, in which I haven’t felt for him. The spark that ignites the engine. The mill that churns milk into cheese or butter. For others they simply call it the lack of chemistry.

God knows how I wanted to be with this person so bad. Trying all the regular concoctions of togetherness, full undivided focus, attention, and what have you-s. However, why is it that the best result was simply a development of a huge amount of tenderness towards him? Would it be sufficient to support the base of any relationship? For some it might be enough, and for others it wouldn’t? And for me I still do need that spark.

For all I care, I thought that his feelings towards me started as a “just because”. Something like, just because we were single, and then just because I was always there for him in dire times, continued by just because I know, that when he was truly in love with some he would draw a wonderful picture or a great caricature by hand of the person in mind (in which he hadn’t done), and also just because me too, would write something exhilarating about the person I have in mind (in which I haven’t done as well). Were we just a couple of “just because” people trying to make some connection?

Of course, I really hoped that we could go deeper with this. But finally I drew the line: I told him the truth that the spark just wasn’t there from my part. And it hurt me the most to have to convey this message when I knew he needed me more than ever.

Then suddenly an email appeared on my desk. It was a drawing. My face was on it.

And here I am. Touched. Not knowing what else to do.

Therefore I blogged.

Well Bunny, sorry for everything. Thanks for everything.

Confused by Husni Elidaar

2007-06-20T21:39:00.000-07:00

Sunset hit the City of Townsville. Lit my cigs to calm my jitters. Finally, I got a chance for an audience with Mr. Yummy for the first time. I even went home for a sec, took a shower, re-dressed and tried to look as (understatedly) stunning as possible. Double-checking my pose, double-checking my walk, my talk and my breath. Tips from the heavens had it, that I need to pass as a totally straight guy to even begin trying to get his attention. Yummy, my supposed date then on due-time called me.

“Where are you?”
“I am in the lobby already as you asked me to, seven o’clock sharp”
“What lobby? I haven’t asked to go anywhere yet! I was contemplating on where we were suppose to have dinner at”
“Oh gosh, but I thought you sms-ed me like two hours ago to meet you here”
“It wasn’t me!!”
“So who are you? And who am I meeting now at this building!!”
“Gawd, you double-dated me even before I know you!!!”

The phone kept on going,
“My, you put me on number two already before I even met you!”
“Look dude, this isn’t suppose to happen, I would never double-date anyone. So who are you then?” “I am not talking. You go have a nice date. God I can’t believe this is happening to me!”
“Ok, lemme talk with this dude first, lemme see if I can make you number one for tonite”
“But you’re on a date already! Geez!”
“Hold on, everything in life is negotiable man…”

Apparently I spoke too soon. As I tried not to panic in the extreme-confusion, I saw Mr. Yummy escalated calmly from downstairs. He was damn hot, got this professional aura around him. And furthermore, it was clear that he wasn’t on the phone, thus I was then definitely talking with someone else.

Immediately I turned-off the phone to greet Yummy.

“Hey there, how are you?”
“I’m good, you?”
“Cool, where shall we go you think?”
“Let’s eat there, I am famished”

Dinner was just starting when the phone rang again, reading semi-loudly the name of the guy in front of me (with the-say-caller’s-name-mode ON). Hopefully he didn’t notice that, since the reading was done in StarTrek-style pronunciation. Swiftly of course, I grabbed the behemoth and turned the silent-switch on.

“Now, where were we?” I asked imperturbably.

During the course of dinner, I barely noticed anything else around me. Just him, and the lusciousness of his lips and his awesome frame. You got me pal. You got me, at hello.

Sneaking a glance quickly every time it vibrated, I saw Mr. Number 2 (who I wisely placed at number two) called me four times and sent me 2 text messages. My time with Yummy there was so precious, I wouldn’t let anything ruined that.

Dinner was nice, he was friendly. We talked like adults, about life and business in general. Nothing sexual, nothing smuttish. We bid our farewells at around nine and promised to further contact each other later.

Then I called Mr. Number 2.

“Where are you? Let me meet you to explain this mess. I owe you one!”
“Was he even cute?”
“Mmm.. he was okay…”
“Just okay, or really-really OKAY?”
“Well, he was nice, that’s all I can tell you now, hehe”
“Ok, since you promised to take me out on a movie-date, let’s go see Shrek 3 at (bleep)”
“Great, see you soon then, it’s gonna take like 5 mins for me to get there”

Bought the ticket and he then arrived ten minutes later. I didn’t know what I was having for breakfast this morning, but damn, oh boy, Mr. Number 2 was a super-hottie.

“Hey, sorry for the fiasco earlier” I started.
“That’s okay, I got you here now at least. Gosh you are cute! Don’t you think so Craig?” he asked his buddy beside him
“Thanks pal, you too” while checkin’ the appetizing buns of his ass.

While waiting for the movie to commence, I got to know him a little bit better. He still hadn’t divulged his name behind that screen-name of his (which I no longer sure which one anyway after the bad mix-up).

“Okay, this is what happened. After I messaged him this afternoon, your sms then arrived, stating: Hey man, this is my other number, please write it down. So, I stupidly put you under HIS name, not knowing that you two are completely different beings”

“Yea, that would be stupid”

“Listen, I didn’t know better okay. So, along the way, I was both sending and receiving messages from you two, still unaware that I was talking to you on the phone when you called me. I thought you were him”

“So I wasn’t even on your list for the day?”

“Of course not, I don’t double-date. Sorry again for the mix-up.”

“I am still mad you know…”

His phone then rang,
“Yeah what’s up Mom?” “No, I’ll be fine…” “What? No… Greg is having ramen dinner now with a bunch of friends. Yea, yea I’ll be fine. See you later Mom”
Hmm. Greg.

Now I am totally confused,
Yummy – the super cool bear-prince
Greg – the fun loving gym-punk

Yummy had this air of coolness, I could never read his body language on whether he was interested in me enough or not. While in a brotherly manner, Greg had literally touched me all over and stated his interest verbally and through his body language.

People say easy come - easy go no? Yummy may be harder to catch while Greg had willingly opened his arms for me (or so it seemed at the least). Yummy liked to talk about work, while Greg had a passion on photography, in which both were nice conversations to have. Yummy is here to stay, while Greg will be gone soon, back to work abroad on a not-too-far-away land. But his ass, oh God have mercy on me: Greg, I wanna eat you all over.

Gawd, I am so doomed.

Regards,
Husni Elidaar.

It's My Party

2007-05-22T10:48:00.000-07:00

It was time for me to return to the real world. I was trapped at home for almost a week before I had the full-energy to see work and people again. And these gorgeous people in which I call my friends, happened to be swimming in Citos that long-weekend Friday. It was late already while I was taking care of some business at the office. The trace of discomfort that could be felt in my ankle-region was purposely neglected in order for me to meet and greet the citizens of this capital. I would go insane if I was to be confined in my room for another day. Bakerzin was then chosen as the spot of relaxation after the water-flirt sessions at the pool. After ordering our cute drinks and mouthwatering desserts, right away a very interesting preposition was being thrown in the air. Thus, the brain-storming session began.

One of us started with, “Okay people! (Ting ting ting – the sound of a fork being slightly clinked to a goblet). I was given a task of producing a great party for people like us. Be it gay, discreet, in denials, and everything in between. The rules are very simple: It has to be unique in a way, would attract 100-200 invitees, it has to be viable, and it shall be held around the vicinity of this city”

We were having a blast as wild ideas came to our hands: Gym parties, bunny parties, ayam (cock/ rooster) party, Hershey chocolate party, construction gang party, spa & massage party, bubble & towel party and many many more fun ideas.

Well, the Martha Stewart-cum- Nigella Lawson in me wanted this very chic intimate party that would go from mild-to-wild within a couple of hours.

Invite & Line-Ups

The invitation will be etched on laser-cut square acrylics. The design should be extremely feminine with lots of flowers and garlands (all in monochromatic white and silver) with the information below written on one:

Dear Mr. ______________________

You are cordially invited to

THE WHITE BALL

Date
Friday, the Twenty Fourth of August

Venue
(Somewhere like)
Kebun Raya Bogor

Programme

9.00 PM
Opening of “Body-Works” an intimate experience by
a new and upcoming fashion-photographer,
Lucious Armstrong. Lounge atmosphere would
be directed by dj. Hero.

10:00 PM
A special appearance by Genma Boys,
a performance troop consisting of Japanese beefcakes,
in their most intriguing project,
“Thoughts and Desires”.

11:00 PM
Another spectacular special appearance by
the hunky dj. HIM, of Twilite, New York
in the White Ball Special, “House of the 90-s”
in remembrance of the day when we could both
dance and sing out loud to the rhythm

Hosted by
The ever enchanting
Ms. Sara Bellum

Dress Code
White Ensemble Garden Party

Décor
“Pretty in White” somewhat, again, feminine, wedding-inspired atmosphere, white floral arrangements with greeneries, white tents and gazebos, white candles, white beads, white Christmas balls, monochromatic theme: silver and white color scheme. Except for the amazing lighting-system for the dancehall.

F&B
Finger foods, cocktails, mocktails, wines, champagnes

Attributes
Servers and runners shall be hand picked men, dressed only in string belt, white-linen Capri pants, with nothing else on the top and absolutely nothing underneath, with bare feet or leather slippers at the most.

“Oh this is so last year!” some of you may say. But hey, I like it chic and simple, intimate and amicable, artsy yet sexy.

So guys, what kinda party would you like to have? Your ideas may be the dream party that they would actually produce at the end (of course all the credits will be entitled to you as a recognition). Don’t forget the details (venue, theme, décor, f&b, line-ups, dress-code, etc).

Hint
The juicier the better!

Let’s get rolling people.

Auto Mania

2007-05-20T09:50:00.001-07:00

Call me Red. Thank you kind Sir for choosing me. I bet my cousin Spider couldn’t handle the lingering mist of pollution above the chimney skies of the capital. And thank God, you are the one who’s driving me. Remember earlier this morning around the Puncak downhills? You knew exactly how to time my almost uncontrollable downshift with this monster engine God has given me. Twitchy, people asked? For some yes, but not for you able Sir. I need more drivers like you. For power is in my DNA, I had to proudly represent the town of Modena, where my founder was born. Even when the new lines of evo-s are churning up, yet you still choose me: The perfect stimuli to start-off this week. But I have to warn you Sir: Traffic is being served right up - for this IS Monday morning. Sir, you just passed 8000, we will hit the red line soon, slow down your horses! Not that I mind…

I know you wouldn’t loose your cool Sir. It has been raining outrageously since this morning. Traffic is everywhere this evening. But then again traffic is the pulse of Jakarta or any other megapolitan. Without this we may end up dead. How did your meetings go Sir? I bet the day at the office was actually good this Tuesday. You look content. Of course you would, I am enveloping you in a very sumptuous nappa, warmed you a bit in this rainy day to the perfect temperature of your command, and you even did a little head-banging to the rhythm of drum & bass I have on your playlist. Oh No! Sir, there are other ways to get to the gym. Don’t! Sir, the flood is about half a meter! Sir, are you crazy!! Gosh. Ok, I’ll shud-up. Don’t give me that smirk Sir! I knew I can handle a wee bit more water-play, for my name wouldn’t be Range Sport. Didn’t like the “older” Rover? Hated the “married with two kids” Discovery? Bah, sometimes I just don’t understand these younger generations of landed gentries.

Generally people would think of Wednesdays as the dullest day of the week. But if you still had to go through Wednesday, you might as well do it with a little style. My name is Number 0045. For AMG only cloned 3000 of me per-annum, you forced your way to get me earlier this year. And you did specifically choose that number, for I know, you regard the number 9 as the highest in its rank. Ah, my perforated sport seats, my 482 mm light–alloy wheels with a firmer gripping wider tires, how about those large air inlets and those heavenly quadruple chromed oval exhausts? There is no four-door coupe as mean as me (well, remind me to kill M6 soon). Park me there Sir, yes, right in front of the club doors, I wasn't made for regular parking lots nor grubby basements. I know that look you gave people while disembarking the cabin, a proud owner of a CLS 55.

Another day is dawning. It’s early. Have you even slept yet? Where to Sir? Oh, Bogor? Ok. Another golf morning with the “boys”? The route against the morning traffic was pretty empty. Oh, yea, I may be big, but I am not clumsy. Feel the road. Feel me Sir. Push me harder. Yeah, like that, I have a lot of love to give under the hood. Come on, you can push me more. Just 80% will do lah, my torq caps is “only” 630 N.m. You didn’t get this 6.2 lt v.8 for nothing no? Oh come on I am more equipped than your other “Italian lovers” in safety precaution standards. Crumple zones? Three points seat-belts? Collapsible steering column? Strengthened cell? ESP, DSC, TC and what nots? ABS? Sandwich platform? Pre-safe 2002? Of course you knew it. I am built only for the Sonderklasse, a very special class of people. Those Germans shorten me for an S-Class. As you of are a connoisseur Sir, lovingly you call me W221. But of course you sent me to AMG tuning first as usual. Didn’t even need my newborn emblem, the S 63. Cuz what’s inside that matters eh?

Friday is what I call a super-ego day. Where the super-egos are exhibiting their powers and might (in the form of their super-cars) to the world of -well, the same pool of other-super-egos I presumed. Of course you didn’t wanna look “shabby-chic” dear Sir. You want hard-core attention and I… am your perfect penis extension for the night. Like the true bull of a devil, my name derived from. Twenty-three strokes of sword-blades didn’t kill me back in Cordoba bullring in 1879.Go ahead, swing my door open, these gull-wings of pure evil will flip those rich bastards back to hell. One warning tho. I don’t think the Sudirman-Thamrin strip will be equipped to handle 300 mph in any condition. But of course for the super-egos there lies the challenge no? Even the super-heroes in Batman Begins and Transporter agreed on this. But of course, I am extremely bat friendly: Murcielago, look me up in any Spanish dictionary. Now, are you ready? Write your wills first, sign your waivers off, and you may floor me to the limit. Oh I am so evil. You’ll see how my 6.5 V12 engine of an LP640 will raise your adrenalin rush to a whole new level. Not bad for a son of a Diablo.

Buon giorno. Mi chiami Enzo. I provide sweet rides, and I really mean that! Ken Okuyama pimped up this Berlinetta at Pininfarina. Hey, stop calling me F60! My younger siblings will be inaugurated soon for the special anniversary, not just yet tho. However, I will be your best friend on this very beautiful Saturday... Vroom… vroom… Call me again in about 3 hours, my master demands his joyride! Now, now... Leave him alone will you? He needs a little solitude with me, number 396, the fourth of the last Enzo-s to be built ever.

Wild weekend is almost over. Let’s go back to some sense of normalcy. NOT. Nice isn’t it? Feel my tractions darling. This bucket is supporting every move you make, no? How about that 3.7 seconds you just did to reach 100 kmph? Fun right? This turbocharger wasn’t made for the faint hearted. Sure its high-rev power would fit a larger charger. But if we can fit it here for your enjoyment? I’m sure you wouldn't mind. Talk about that flexibility factor. Ahh, just like the sudden burst of wasabi in your mouth with that tuna sashimi. Wanna push me harder? Motor Trend did it not too long ago in 3.2 secs! Just flip to the triptronic S transmission. I promise you, I wont blow-up. That’s what these water-cooled engines are built for. Internally, I am aka 997, the variant. But why complicate matters? Let them be jealous. How many of them will even be allowed to test-drive a 911 Turbo?

Seven hot cars for seven different days. And all these times, all I wanted was just to spend a little time with you everyday, just like them. They could feel the way you handle them, the way you take them slow while enjoying the sunset, the way you ride them full-throttle in a fury of pure driving passion. They felt needed, they felt cherished.

Argh, the agony, if only I can morph myself into a special auto.

Your not-too-secret admirer,

Prof. Utonium.
Head of R&D
Cooper S. Mini Div.

Confused

2007-05-19T12:38:00.000-07:00

Not too far away from the present day, I was feeling very depressed on why that it seemed that I am selling myself to the wrong target, i.e potential boyfriend marketplace. Most of the people who seemed to be interested in me fell into the same category: sweet-faced, i-am-all-yours, cuddly, clingy, and obviously bottom. Maybe they were destined to be the people that I may need in my hectic life, dunno. But what I want is a completely different set of type: big, burly, masculine, and someone who can fuck like a real man. Then an ad exec friend of mine suggested a totally new campaign to market myself toward the right pool of audience. Afterward, surprising things came into place when we were discussing our preliminary research into the problem.

A couple of days ago I was reading an article on Ed Droste, the lead vocal of an upcoming Brooklyn band called Grizzly Bear, before I stumbled upon the frank nature of the interview conducted by Adam Baran:

What kind of porn do you like?
I’m not really educated on porn, but if anyone wants to send me gay porn – I really enjoy a lot of the vintage stuffs. There’s this one called American Boy, it’s the only one I’ve ever bought. I know a lot of people who give me their passwords to pay-sites mostly. But I was like, I need to own American Boy.

What’s so amazing about it?
Everyone had shaggy hair and was really cute and it was pre-condom, really hot. I like the pre-condom porn. Not that I promote unsafe sex, but…

Well, you are in a monogamous relationship so…
So we’re able to do it.

You are able to have pre-condom sex!
Yeah! No-condom sex.

That’s cool.
Yeah, me and my big bottom self.

You’re the bottom?
Totally, always have been.

A power-bottom perhaps?
I don’t really understand what power-bottom means. Does it mean like I’m a bitch like “Fuck me now.”

Right.
It’s like Melrose Place, Heather Locklear bottom. “Fuck me now bitch or you’re fired.” Power bottom? I don’t know. Not a senior executive but like head of sales.

CFO?
Quasi-power. I’m working my way up. I’m not quite like Martha Stewart. But people always think I’m the top. It’s really funny.

I think because you’re tall and big. I figured you were the top.

-0-

And the next day, I came across a picture of Reichen Lehmkuhl, the winner of the celebrated reality show Amazing Race in one of the most anticipated seasons. Boy, this hunk was actually pretty hot, big and buffed from all the hard works he showed upon graduating the Air Force Academy. I then immediately hopped on YM to chat with my brondong jenius.

How come I haven’t heard that Lance Bass of N’Sync is dating a very hot guy named Reichen Lehmkul?
They broke up already darling. He was with his “spouse” when he was doing the Amazing Race stunts. I heard that he has a habit of cheating.

Dohh, with that bod? Of course I would’ve also worn a habit of cheating. Oh, what would I have to pay to get in his pants yah?
Oh shucks, you didn’t know? Legend says that Reichen was bot, and Lance was actually the top dude.

OMG, do you have to like ruin my fantasy that I am having right now? But anyway he looked so goddarn massive, strong and capable of sweeping me of ma-feet.
That’s what we call a power-bottom darl.

Gosh, I came upon that term twice already in two consecutive days. What does it mean anyway?

Then my brondong jenius gave me an entry from the urban dictionary:

power bottom

Gay Male Term. Dominant Bottom. While a bottom is usually submissive to his partner, a power bottom enjoys maintaining control over the top and/or the penetration, the normally dominant role in gay male sex. Power bottoms supposedly have skilled tongues. (They give the best blow jobs/fellatio and rim jobs/analingus.)

Suddenly they all make sense for me. No longer I have to be confused on my own sub-genre. It’s not a fetish. It’s not a lifestyle choice. It’s just a state of being. I enjoy doing my army-look, I am not comfortable showing signs of effeminacy in public. And yes, just like Princess Morbucks and her overprotective daddy, I enjoy my man raw and strong. Damn, I now felt like I belong somewhere.

Go Go Power-bottoms!

This Love Story Sucks

2007-05-18T14:29:00.000-07:00

“Good afternoon passengers. This is your Captain speaking. My name is Captain Rob Gangreen, and we would like to welcome you to AerAnaLingus, flight EIA 405 destined for Dublin. How are you this afternoon? I hope everyone is in good moods for this journey. However, the command tower had just informed us that there would be a slight delay before we are able to depart, due to a quick repair on the second runway. On behalf of AerAnaLingus we would like to apologize for the inconvenience, but we still hope to reach Dublin International in due time as best as we could. For the mean time while waiting for the taxi, let me tell you about my recent love affair. Now don’t expect any sweet and cuddly moments dear passengers. This love story sucks…”

Desperate is a very good way to describe my state of mind recently. While every one in my vicinity tried to convince me that being single is fantabulous, however, I -the relationship-whore- don’t seem to agree with them. I have calculated my being single ratio at about 2.5 months after breaking up with any of my past. But as of today, that respected milestone had been broken, twice. Yes, your looser captain here has been single for more than five months passengers.

So in desperation I called my acquaintances to set me up with any guy whom they think would suit me nicely and vice versa. Then a mutual friend introduced me to Brad. Well, this Brad isn’t exactly the Brad Pitt type. He was rather slim (in which not really my type), and he was not exactly the-most-masculine-person that I hope he’d be (in which again, not really my type). But he was nice, very nice indeed. He made me feel special and wanted. Just by looking in his eyes I felt a very strong urge to hug and care for him.

Suddenly I had a light gout attack, yet I was feeling extremely frisky. Called him to cancel the movie date and went straight for lunch that Saturday. Afterwards with no apparent difficulty I managed to return home with him beside me. Note, that was going to be our first time in this more intimate manner. I noticed that the more comfortable he was around me, the less masculine he became. It irked me so much, yet I still managed to act cool about it.

Right away I was a bit shocked as I removed layer upon layer of clothing items he had on: He turned out to be really skinny and wiry, which was such a big turn off for me. But I didn’t want him to feel bad. The sex was on the border between bad and a non-sexual way. He refused my oral service, then he refused to be rimmed. Yet he didn’t offer those services either. Furthermore, Brad didn’t seem to want to penetrate, yet he didn’t ask for any penetration either. I was like, hmm, what other options do I have left? The answer came in a frottage-esque bundle. He got off by simply rubbing himself on my rather sexy tummy. Immediately, the thought that he was a follower of an asexual cult came to mind.

He felt asleep afterwards. Upon awakening, I asked him to shower together in a hope that I would be able to deliver him home as immediately as possible. Well you want to blame me after the ordeal that I had to go through? On the way he asked for dinner in which I granted in a silent protest. Then later, on the way to the garage where he parked his car in, he asked for a detour: To return to my place in the hope that he could stay over. I was like, “Dude, I will be busy tomorrow morning, that wouldn’t be good for my schedule. And beside can’t you see that I am limping now?” He promised that he would manage his departure by himself. Half-heartedly I agreed.

It was about nine pm when he said: “Aren’t you sleepy? You are sick you should get some rest soon” What? It was just nine and I had to sleep like a baby? Straight away he went into his personal dreamland and I was left stranded on a bed with someone I am not really into, with eyes wide open.

As I guessed exactly, the following morning this baby needs to be accompanied to his garage. My limping was getting worse as the purin-crystals are settling, blocking the blood streams near my left ankle. He didn’t stop me at the gate of my compound, he didn’t stop me along the way, he didn’t even stop me from entering the garage when we finally arrived. The thing was, I did’t need a baby then, I didn’t have time to baby-sit anyone.

Such a bummer of an experience.

Monday came and calls from his office were neglected, sms-s from his phone were ignored. Tuesday afternoon arrived and an sms was received: “I miss you. Do you feel the same?” I then deliberated for over an hour in concocting a subtle yet hard blowing message: “I am sorry Brad. I don’t think I feel the same. I tried and I can’t feel any chemistry. I am really sorry Brad.” His reply was a relieve though I could still feel the bitterness. At least mission accomplished.

Later in the week I found out many things about him that would shock me. The fake “position” at the office, the material-boy he was, and the final blow was that he was still in a relationship with someone close to a friend of mine. And I even heard the horror story that he rented out his partner’s place as he was away for a yearlong overseas task, without the knowledge of the boyfriend!

Told ya, the ending wouldn’t be anything spiced, sugared nor anything nice. I can only thank the Lord that I cut him off at the perfect time before anything went deeper. Well, passengers, now it seems that we are ready to taxi. Thank you very much for listening. We will turn off the cabin lights shortly in preparation for take-off. Hope you enjoy a pleasant flight with AerAnaLingus. And please do inform me if you know anyone beefy, cute and single! This has been Captain Rob speaking. The only openly-gay sky captain!

To the left... To the left...

2007-04-23T03:28:00.000-07:00

Like a midnite attack, slowly yet calculated, they managed to suck you into their vortexes. When you are snuggling comfortably in their traps, they will then inform you subtly, “Actually, do you mind if I am still in a relationship with another person?” And before you could utter a single word, they would continue, “Oh it’s a rocky one, I’ve had it with him since forever and I think I am going to drop him very soon.” Alas, these types. With questionable motives, they want you around. And the ultimate draw was the fact that they never leave the other person. Ever.

I've never planned to be a home wrecker in my life. Until I was faced with limited options in encountering such behaviors: Shall I let him go (in which he was already dear to my heart) or shall I pretend that I am okay with all of these (in which I am so not ok of course)? Once I made that choice nearing the end of last year, I asked him to leave the other person and submitted to my request he did. The relationship didn’t go very well, because I knew from the beginning: The wants factors had won over the needs of my fragile heart and mind.

Another encounter of the same types not too long ago, but at least this person just wanted to have sex without wining and dining me. Of course he had to leave me with the phrase, “Look I am not promising anything, I am still in a relationship” Like, duh, why didn’t you tell me this previously and as iffff, whoeva was hoping for anything anyway! Well, maybe my face gave it out. I might act like I just need him for the (great) sex. But my face, he might’ve seen the longings that I had for him. To be closer to him.

Darn, I am such a sucker for romance.

And now this. Mojo Jojo, how dare you tell me right upfront that you are still wondering about the sexuality your newfound –cute- friend? All that when you are still unclear of what do you want to do with your current –rocky- one? With how many person(s) do I have to compete to win your heart siy? Very bad, bad, monkey. Suddenly it hit me. Oh yes, you are a catch and I think you know it well. But are you still worthy of catching my time, my attention and my affection?

Oh God, what have I done in the past to deserve all these bastards? They came in various shapes and sizes, usually in some very nice packaging. So, are you my dear, another bastard?

To the left
To the left…