Sabtu, Januari 29, 2005

VOICES IN MY HEAD

Why? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you’re fighting for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love?


Illusions.

Vagaries of perceptions. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them is artificial. In spite all, only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must able to see it. You must know it by now. You can’t win. It’s pointless to keep fighting. Why? Why? Why do you persist?



( Beacuse I choose to )



How do feelings die? And when they do, what becomes of them then?

You might as well ask, how do feelings get born? All three questions are, really, the same question. And they all have a common assumption: that humankind can no more live without feelings than you can kill yourself by holding your breath ( Of course, you just may be the kind of arrant rationalist who huffs that modern man has finally freed himself from ancient enslavement to superstition, fantasy, and awe. If so, close this blog immediately and by the by, don't bother trying to read it again later ).

We need feelings : love or hate, happy or sad, well... FEELING : not so much to worship or sacrifice to but because they satisfy our need - distinctive from that of all the other thoughts ... to imagine a meaning, a sense to our lives, to satisfy our hunger to believe that the muck and chaos of daily existence does, after all, tend somewhere. It's the origin of living, and also of storytelling or aren't they both the same thing? As someone said of feeling : if it do not exist, it would have been necessary to invent him.

It provides an escape. Provides a threat. Provides a dream and power ... provides refuge, and pain. It gives the world meaning. It exist and thus they are all that matters. I'm still understanding the tricks and turns of living.



... life is hard



Selasa, Januari 25, 2005


Why I Love Smallville


Lana: I am not condoning. Believe me, I'm paying for it. It still felt good caring for someone and having my feelings returned. I want that again.

Clark: I don't expect you to wait forever for me.

Lana: Good. Because one of these days, someone's gonna come along that's right for me, and I'm going to want to be with that person. And you're gonna have to deal with that.

- "Smallville" episode Magnetic
( Its hard when you're in love but the person you like do not understands the obligations within )


I guess because it's a very good show, good actors, good story line. It shows how Clark Kent, the future man of steel grows up and deals with everyday life. He goes through what every red-blooded human being goes through eventhough he's not human. Just goes to show, if you have good people and role models around you, you can face anything, right? I love the Clana(Clarkk/Lana) pair up also... comic books try to elude their story.


" I’ve always had this sense that I was going to die young. Maybe because of my parents, I felt guilty I’d survived. When the tornado came, I thought this was it. Fate had finally found me. Then I saw you in the truck and you put your arms around me and you told me that everything was going to be okay. I know, it sounds crazy, but I started to think of all the other times that you’ve been there to protect me. And I thought maybe there’s more to Clark Kent than meets the eye. "

- Lana Lang to Clark Kent in "Vortex" (Smallville season 2)


Ahad, Januari 23, 2005

Dear Mr Sandman,

I'm not quite sure if this would be a commonly asked question or not, but do you ever write and know that what you have written is rather good? Is that even something you can assess yourself or instead is it something that varies from person to person --- so why even bother trying to decide whether it is good or bad.

thank you,
XXX

Hmm. Sometimes I know when I'm writing that something's good, there's a wonderful bubbly feeling as it hits the paper, and often it didn't exist even a moment before. Mostly I have no idea --- when I'm done I'm incredibly nervous. Sometimes I write something I like very much that utterly fails to set the world on fire, and sometimes I write something that I think is deeply flawed that many people love. Sometimes I write something that really doesn't work, and everyone else thinks it doesn't work too.

Mostly I don't mind. I'm already trying to write the next thing.

(I think the people who dislike my upcoming magazine, dislike it more than anything I've done. On the other hand, they seem to be outnumbered by the ones who like it more than anything I've done.)

Something I'll put in over at the FAQs but it's worth posting here. Please don't send me chapters of your un-motivational critiques, your egos, ideas for your plot to destroy me, your stories of unpleasantness, ideas for your dissatisfaction, bits of your life story that you think will make a good storyline one day or just things you want me to read, give my opinion on, help you get published or fix the spelling on.

I don't have time. I understand your one idea or story is a very short idea or story but right now I could spend my entire life doing nothing but reading other people's stuff -- and that doesn't even include the books and manuscripts, published, unpublished or soon-to-be-published, that arrive, every day, seeking blurbs or blessing -- and I'd never write another word, and I wouldn't even get all the stuff people want me to read read, let alone get the stuff I need to write written.

It's not fair. But that's how it is.

(When, ten-odd years ago, I finished my first full fiction, the first thing I did was stick it an envelope and send it to a famous author with a note telling him how much he wanted to read it. And he never wrote back. Nor did he send it to some editorial friend at his publishers with a note telling them that they'd be missing out on the publishing coup of the decade if they didn't publish it. I've only very recently forgiven him for this, realising (a) how many envelopes like that he must have got each day and (b) that wasn't his job. His job was to write books and stories.)

As to why bother trying to decide if something's good or bad... that's what people do. That's how we're built. We build whole worlds out of a patchwork of "I like this..." and "I don't like this..." in order to navigate. ( It tends to be an audience reaction, rather than a critical reaction, but that's another story.)

So I'm sorry. Look at it this way: if you're going to be any good, you'll make it just fine without me telling you you're good. And either way, good luck you people.


Khamis, Januari 20, 2005

I SPEAK OF THE STRANGE AND FEAR.

At the heart of my work is my concern with the subtleties of human emotion. Shunning the controversial gesture and figure, plus the obvious expression… I potray many human forms and faces charged with emotions recognizable but not easily named.

My obsession with the truth : These forms and faces may be made to reveal more than just that.

I feel the crush of terror
Arrayed against me : scattered phantoms
Whose desires drive me down uncertain roads
To a horizon inescapably red as my blood
My empty eyes are clouded by visions of the night
And on my blood and silent face I see reflected
Madness become horror … horror become madness

Them who brought me the cult of pain and love
Of tattered flesh
Into these eyes and hearts

Them… Take pity on my long misery !

Drunk with your lies
My soul takes its thirst in the rush of their tears

I know that sorrow is the only strength
Neither dream nor nightmare can sink their teeth into…

Hope.



Rabu, Januari 19, 2005

Not that I was listening.

A few days back, one of my ‘Mak Cik’ from kampung asked what I do now. I said I am a writer. "Well," she said, "When are you going to be a Bestseller then?" It was the kind of cheerfully patronising thing people say to relatives or strangers they meet during special ocassions. I'm sure if I'd said I am a reporter, she'd have said, "Well, when are you going to have a well known column then?"… I think I was meant to shrug and say "One day," hopefully with a wistful smile, and she would have told me that was the spirit, but I said to myself why is it that the same old aged question always popped the way it wasn’t supposed to be.*Sigh*

So, I wander into a comic bookshop yesterday and am browsing the new arrival area at the back of the shop, looking for books to read and buy with limited amount of budget (eventually purchased ‘A Moment of Silence’;compiled work for the September 11 special comic project by Marvel and ‘Venom’ just for art's sake) and a young man --- I estimate his age at his late teens asks if I've seen Batman : Year One which inspired the upcoming ‘Batman Begins’ movie later this year. I point it out for him. "I think it’s sold-out" .

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

He looks at the small pile of books I'm accumulating in my arms. "You must like reading," he says, with awe in his voice.

"I do," I admitted. "I like it better than anything."

His eyes opened wide. “Are you an artist … comic book artist?”(He must have noticed my apparent long hair)

I felt like a sort of exotic but rare species that had just been correctly identified by an archeologist. "I’m a comic book writer," I said.

His eyes narrowed. "Have you written anything I could read?"

I suggested my upcoming magazine. "You'll find it later, maybe in a month or two," I told him.

He caught up with me five minutes later, in another area, picking out a motley bunch of comics (including some expensive titles I cant afford – kids nowadays!) and said

"Er... whats the name of the magazine if you don’t mind?"


"Huh?"

"The place where that book you wrote is?"

"Karangkraf. I think it's gonna be a big launching at this year Book Fair."

"Oh. Okay."

I don't think he'd ever been out of the US mainstream area before. Arms piled high with stuff I wandered over toward my 12 years of comic collecting. He approached me with a copy of ‘Kingdom Come’, and I told him what is it about, and left the bookshop hoping that he likes it, or that he puts it on one side until he does.

Anyway.... more Blog pro-and-anti messages and eloquent opinions, all forwarded to me either thru mail or Friendster. (And for those of you in the net currently wondering, it's a good thing to get feedbacks.)

I am happy that there are people ou there who kept updating about me...

Thanks.


Selasa, Januari 18, 2005

There are a whole bunch of interesting problems to solve, though. For example: I feel bad enough making some of my office mates, ‘se-kampung’ clicks (at subang), UiTM friends and internet buddies left dangling without spending enough time talking to them . I'd not be willing to do a 24 hours at which these people would have to stand in line for hours just waiting to have a word or two with me(macam mana la nak lawan ‘sibuk’ ni?). So it might, for example, be a matter of doing longer bloggings and callings and Q & As, but much more limited space and time. I don't know --- I haven't thought it through. I do know that whatever we decide and however we do things, many people will be disappointed.

I'm falling off the world at present to try and get a few things finished. We'll see whether I have a splendid mood or excellent condition where I am. (Currently typing this at my sub-editors’ PC), as the time of my dateline gets later and later, and I sit here repeating to myself that my workplace food court menu is not getting any good in terms of improvement. Sometimes my natural optimism makes me forget this, and pay real money for a plate of rice, mix vege that make me grateful when I sit in the food court and eat them. I shall remember. I will be strong … syukur.(sapa nak belanja aku lunch,angkat tangan?)

You know, this is starting to get interesting but yet irritating. After more than a year of working fine (well, except when I'd do something extremely stupid or silly or both) on blogger, I upgrade, I update... and currently have an almost randomly stacked bunch of posts sitting here, not up on the site, with odd time and date listings, promiscuously tossed between several folders. I wonder if I asked the people over at Blogger.com nicely if they'd cancel those unwanted banners, and give me back all those beneficial free features, like, well, being able to post things that people could read for a start . So, I'm writing a script right now, and it's been driving me nuts for about almost a month (during which time I have mostly not been writing it, but sort of eating it in the back of my head, like a starving kid getting a free ice cream), and today it all started to come together. It went over a couple of days from a lot of disconnected bits to something that had a voice and a point of view. I have no idea how this happened, but it made me smile. It also made the idea that I might actually get through the year without getting too much further behind on too many things seem... well, possible.



Isnin, Januari 17, 2005

I try and hear stuff in my head while I write it. I'm mostly too self-conscious to read to myself in empty rooms as I write, but I do tend to read aloud as soon as I can - sometimes as soon as something's in first draft I'll talk to my imaginary friends and read it to them. That's where I hear things that don't work, and fix them. I love reading aloud. I love reading my stuff aloud, and as long as an item is well-written, or has a certain rollicking something, I love reading other people's stuff aloud. And I always smile very happily when people come up to me to tell me that they enjoyed reading something of mine aloud (baca kuat-kuat, tapi dalam hati).

I’d never make fun of anyone who likes to write, any more than I’d make fun of anyone who likes to read.

I suppose it’s possible that you could write a story of such brilliance that if you get it out to magazines now you could find an editor who will fall in love with it and can get it into print, but I suspect the odds are against me sometimes.You might be better off doing what I did, with a few classmates, when I was 14. We started a zine. It was called... hmmm, on the other hand : lets just skip that. Its humiliating (a name I think I came up with, mostly because it sounded like a magazine people might vaguely have heard of that particular title)

Does that help? Well, in a way – yes.

Wouldn't it just be easier if someone comes over and said "Hi, I read your blog. I think you're keen"? And then I'd say "That's very kind of you, I'm glad you enjoy it," and you could say "Lovely weather we're having" or "It's raining" or "Are you having fun?" and I could say "Yes, isn't it?" or "I suppose I must be," and before you knew it we'd've had a conversation, and the world would be a better place.

I'm not very scary, and will happily talk, unless you catch me at the wrong time (for example,if I’m late for work,appointments,toilet or bed). And it probably would work better than secret signals, which are always liable to misinterpretation. No desire to be a recluse, although I like having a certain amount of peace and quiet to write in, and I don't ever get used to being recognised when I'm not expecting it, especially not in my own blog.Overall, I try not to take the praise too seriously. I like making up stories, I'm lucky that people want to read the stories I make up. If they didn't want to read them, I wouldn't be able to do anything about it, after all.

The stories wouldn't change...



Rabu, Januari 12, 2005


Udara yang dihirup di dalam ini adalah udara kecabaran
Pernahkah aku ceritakan kepada semua bagaimana ia mati?
Angin bersiur seperti nafsu yang bertamu didada
Para pecundang mengurung diri di anjung bisu.

Syahdan, sebait puisi berjalan di malam hari
Berkunjung ke kubur jiwa dan rindu
Peringatan hari itu berlalu dengan pesan
kata-kata, diakhiri tersingkat.

Syahdan, sebait puisi bertanya bagaimana jiwa dan rindu mati?
Hati tak menjawab... Ia duduk pegun
di tanda nisannya
Telunjuknya menorehkan

sebait puisi di gundukan persemadiannya.

Tak ada kata yang tepat untuk didamba
zaman yang menarik mata hati ini di sisi lain.
Hanya ... sendiri.
Cahayanya redup menerangi setiap langkah.
Padam ketika tubuhku bangkit.
Aku hanya ingin menularkan
harapan dalam kesuraman.



Di Mana Semesta Menyembunyikan Tidurku? Telah kau resapi keluh aku, juga kau hilangkan peluh resah untuk sebuah pengertian hidup. Esok aku tak datang lagi membaca mata dan tubuh lemah ini, berkisah tentang malam yang pilu. Kerana aku tak dapat membebaskan diri dari jebak misteri semesta yang setiap saat mengalunkan ayat-ayat kematian dan keinsafan. Apa yang kau lakukan, bila semesta menyembunyikan tidurku di balik tabir mimpi? Ke mana kau mencariku, bila semesta menutup pintu dan menghapus jejak debuku? Haruskah melupakanmu? Seperti aku lalai pada semesta dan ketentuannya. ( Diam dan fikir lagi tentang tujuan hidup banyak ubah hala arah sendiri )

Pernah. Saat sesuatu yang tidak dikehendaki terjadi, yang tersisa hanya penyesalan. Tidak akan ada yang bisa diubah lagi. Waktu pun tidak akan pernah diputar mundur lagi. Sesal...sesal... kata itu yang akan terus menghantui aku. Penyesalan tidak akan datang kalau tidak ada yang disesalkan. Penyesalan akan selalu terjadi nanti. Ketika semuanya sudah terjadi dan sudah terlewat. Dan penyesalan itu tidak akan ada gunanya lagi.

Jadi... Untuk apa ada penyesalan?

Kalau penyesalan cuma menambah beban kita, penyesalan itu tidak akan hilang. Lebih baik kita menghiasinya --- menghiasinya dengan syukur, agar penyesalan itu tidak sia-sia. Aku tak mampu tampak dalam genggaman waktu hingga berlalulah imbasan tanpa tahu jiwa menandai ikrar saat malam penuh seksa bercermin pada keruh? Itu yang buat aku tabah dan cekal sampai masa nanti. ( aku menggangguk dalam-dalam... diam-diam )


Dalam kesendirian, aku diam
Dalam kebersamaan, aku diam
Dalam duka, aku diam
Dalam suka, aku diam
Dalam kacau, aku diam
Dalam damai, aku diam
Orang bertanya, siapakah aku?
Aku hanyalah seorang pendiam yang ingin ketenangan...
Aku hanyalah seorang pendiam yang mencari jati diri...
Aku hanya seorang pendiam yang merenungi hidupku..




Itu aku yang sebenar.


Ahad, Januari 09, 2005

There are days that are purely themselves. Today is one of them : working that extra hours at the start of January. The sun is dim and shy and elusive, the sky is grey as a dream, the time burning into unparallel shades of disorder and uncertainty, and several hundred thousand brain cells on every back-and-forth-facing surface of my mind, crawling and creeping and flying, the office window being pattered by the tiny ant as they walk headfirst on my desk , adding a rather strange surrounding to wake me up to this morning. It sounded like someone with a rifle was aiming for my fragile skull.

I’m temporarily brain-dead


Many things arrived this morning while sitting alone in the train heading back home after a night spent at the office : Now is the time for people with suggestions for stuff and things to do on the blog to get them in --- maybe I could set up a forum on the message board or something, I said vaguely. I know I want a mind-brawling area, and some content in the ‘coming soon’ places.

This is the kind of journal entry you can only write at leisure or pressure; and at enforced leisure, at that, because I cannot catch up on things at a certain time, so this will be a posting for a day or so. Truth to tell, I don't mind not being able to get ‘in the mood’, just as I don't mind that my cellphone is out of service where I am right now yesterday. It's a good thing that its OK now ( courtesy of my brother ). My contact with technology is just a single dinosaur-age handphone and my pc at work. I don’t do PDAs, I don’t do stylo handphones with MMS, I don’t do digicams, I don’t do anything that required confusing technical knowledge of somewhat. Its not hard … its just really hard.

So. There you go, my confession for the new world of global cybernization.

It turned very dark and cloudy today; the anticipated rain that had been hanging around the edges of things happened simply and easily and much, much too early, and I reckoned it will rain later tonight. Well, not to be a storm, exactly, but occasional rain would tumble and drenched, with a sort of " it may not look like much now, but wait until we turned heavy and wet all the land and roads " kind of quality to them.

Here . Something wise for you to read that I wish I didn't have to write. ( You may have to log in other bloggers now as mine right now is rather dull )



Khamis, Januari 06, 2005

... terimalah, satu karya ilham 'DEWA'.


DETIK.. DETIK BERGANTI DENGAN DETIK
MINITPUN SILIH BERGANTI
HARI-HARI PUN TERUS BERGANTI
BULAN-BULAN JUGA TERUS BERGANTI
ZAMAN-ZAMAN PUN TERUS BERUBAH
HIDUP INI JUGA PASTI MATI

SEMUA INI PASTI AKAN MUSNAH
TETAPI TIDAK CINTAKU PADAMU
KERANA AKU SANG PANGERAN CINTA
MALAM MALAM DIGANTI DENGAN PAGI
PAGI PUN JADI SIANG
TAHUN-TAHUN PUN BERGANTI ABAD
YANG MUDA PUN PASTI MENJADI TUA
MUSIM-MUSIM PUN TERUS BERGANTI
HIDUP INI JUGA PASTI MATI
TAK AKAN ADA YANG ABADI
TAK AKAN ADA YANG KEKAL ....

(*layan sampai koma lagu-lagu 'DEWA' ni*)


Aku mesti 'kerja' sendiri untuk kalian semua, sampai ada yang memahami apa adanya diri dan tidak tergantung pada segala sesuatu. Bersikap teguhlah aku. Jangan terlalu banyak menaruh kepentingan pada keberadaan tetapi ketentuan. Berikan segala secukupnya; berikan tubuh dan minda 'makanan' secukupnya, 'pakaian' zahir dan batin secukupnya, 'latihan' rohani dan 'jasmani' secukupnya, hanya itu saja. Jadikan diri ini menyenangkan dan itu sudah cukup. Kalau tidak aku akan selamanya terikat pada dimensi dan persepsi manusia biasa. Apapun yang terlalu aku perhatikan, aku akan terikat dengannya. Aku juga harus bekerja untuk pemahamanku. Kemungkinan aku bekerja lebih kurang dari kalian, tetapi cepat atau lambat ... pasti akan sampai.

Membantu orang lain adalah membantu aku sendiri. Aku senantiasa harus membersihkan fikiran, mengamalkan cinta kasih dan kasih sayang dengan tanpa syarat, tidak mengharapkan sesuatu imbalan, itulah jalan terbaik. Jika masih memikirkan untuk membela nama baik aku, wibawa aku, agar orang tahu bahawa aku ini ikhlas, maka aku masih mempunyai ke-'aku'-an, masih belum terbebas dari konsepsi dan 'jelingan' manusia. Kegagalan atau keberhasilan duniawi bukanlah tujuan yang penting. Kadang-kadang kegagalan adalah keberhasilan, sebaliknya keberhasilan adalah kegagalan. Aku harus menilainya dengan mata kebijaksanaan. Jika aku melayani diri, aku tidak selamanya terpuas dan merasa terpenuhi. Aku akan berfikir untuk meminta apapun, kerana aku merasa bahawa aku memiliki segala sesuatu dalam kelimpahan.

Kerja bukanlah masalah semata, namun lebih mendalam mempunyai sesuatu erti bagi hidup aku. Kadang-kadang mata hati kita menjadi 'kabur' melihat duit, sampai akhirnya melupakan apa erti pentingnya kebanggaan kerja yg kita miliki.Bukan masalah tinggi rendah atau besar kecilnya suatu kerja itu, namun yang lebih penting adalah pengisian, dalam erti penghargaan terhadap apa yang kita kerjakan. Sekecil apapun yang aku kerjakan, sejauh itu memberikan rasa puas di dalam diri, maka itu akan memberikan aku erti besar kelak.

Aku tak pernah jumpa orang yang menderita kerana terlalu banyak bekerja. Lebih banyak orang yang menderita sebab terlalu banyak sasaran kerja tetapi tak cukup berusaha untuk melangsaikan kerja. Itu derita yang paling sengsara.



Kepuasan bagi aku ialah berjalan dari satu kegagalan ke kegagalan yang lain, tanpa kita kehilangan semangat



salam semua.




Rabu, Januari 05, 2005


New Year was an astonishing day of oddness and coincidence and one or two particular miracle and revelation … so happy that Allah SWT still gives me that gift - that chance and opportunity ( ALHAMDULILLAH )


I ought to post something yesterday, but tiredness and fatigue has caught up with me, like a jumbo jet landing down on my body. With me being the airport rail, I suppose, because I don't feel very strong and mighty. Wrote stuff earlier today, did some discussing and meeting, and picked and read a few comic book titles at my fortress of solitude – Karangkraf . I read it with full concentration and delighted. Meanwhile, the comic I’m working on right now will be published for a soon to be confirmed date later on this month; they reshuffled the scheduled again last week. It's a good and excellent book, of a kind.

Learn this while arguing with a couple of my mentors here at work.

All creators, may it be writers or artists alike should find themselves with nothing to do for a whole day if there’s zero idea knocking in their head, now and again. It's good for the imagination and the head for not pushing or pressuring ones creativity and thinking capability.

This is what I did in reality: I went thinking and writing for stories or ideas for other peoples benefit. Also I ate lunch and dinner for free in return of the favour. Being a rotten helper and friend, I came away from receiving tons and tons of back-talkers (... lebih kurang samamakna dengan si pencakap belakang@Melayu tipikal ), vicious critiques and brutal brickbats. None of these are the kinds of things I can give comments or evaluation in any form and level. Any rational / relevant point taken there?

This is what i did on the inside if I received any of the related things like the above : I made stuff up to sooth my self, especially for my fragile pair of ears. I sketched out some stories, and began writing one of them using real life characters having fictional name. I wrote poems and sonnets and rhymes; and give some away to my selected friendsters’ to ease the pressure a bit. A few blog mates had some too : mostly girls of course. To the men – I had other stuff to be reckoned with. Pretty much everyone I talk to seems to think this is a very bad idea, and think I've rather managed to upset several people I care about by deciding to go with the procedure.

Well, sure, for whatever good it will do. The people who would do ‘damage’ to me, or to my past and future, probably not reading this blogger discreetly ( and considering the tremendous amount of kaki-kutuk I got, I’m in a state of virtual mental disorder and mind paralysis … so to speak ). I don't even think that, for example, explaining that the Taliban or Al-Qaeda no more represents terrorism than those tormenting my ideas and thinking here in my own domain. These thugs represent hatred and self-inferiority complex and even egoism. Neo-paganism would be a suitable label for this type of people..

Yup. Something's wrong with me, and I don't know what it is sometimes. Opening my mind and heart which was tightly close and shut over the past years. Do not try to run from any of this; I tell myself. And as for me, I'm writing away as best I can.


My immediate paranoid reaction was to assume that it was another bad dream turning into a nightmare .


p/s : … and then again, nobodys perfect kan?


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