What's Your Banjir Story?

Sure enough for the next couple of days, if not weeks, the term “How are you?” and “How’s your day?” will definitely be replaced with “Was your house okay?”; “Were you trapped somewhere?”; “Were you able to get home that day?”; “How high was the water level?”. Yes, these will become the new greeting methods for many Jakartans on our recent tragic fates.

It was indeed a state of emergency affecting most of the capital. The flood rushed again with revenge in its mind this time. Bigger than 1996, wider spread than the 2002 flood, it seemed that banjir (flooding) is a way of life that we all have to live with and deal with in order to survive in the city. The aftermath was devastating, hundreds of thousands of people had to be evacuated from their homes and thousands of them were (or still are) confined within their own houses. I felt like Katrina had hit Jakarta with the same effect that it did to New Orleans. On rooftops, people were stranded around bodies of waters, in which some even reached the height of 4-6 meters above the street level.

I knew something bad was about to happen. Already, I was stranded from 2 to 3 AM Thursday morning at the entrance of my street waiting for the water to subside. By 10 PM the same day, cablevision and its cable internet was down for a surprisingly long time (and they are still down today). The sky darkened while the storm was brewing. Oh, it was so peculiar, like a warning sign from the heavens.

By Friday morning, some of us were already cut-off. Either we were stuck in traffic or in office buildings. Half the city’s telephone lines were dead (including jammed cellular lines), and a third of the power lines were shut to minimize any short-circuit incidents or electrocutions during the heavy flooding. Company called to inform me (who was supposed to be in a vacation) that the shop had to be closed earlier due to an already controlled small fire that sparked along the lighting systems. Oh great! Then Auntie called to inform that she would no longer be able to join us because she couldn’t enter the flooded Bintaro – Pondok Indah highway. Having canceled our family retreat to a monastery in Puncak (the Peak, West Java) due to the heavy rains, the local church people suddenly gave us a call, asking for assistance in cooking for the refugees. Yet, we were stuck in Tomang - Kebun Jeruk toll road, only to be able free ourselves three hours later. We had nothing to complain about. Later on, thousands of people had to stay overnight in the same strip of road going outward to Karawaci area in Tangerang Town. When we got to the emergency set-up, cook we did, together with neighbors and other volunteers for five thousand servings that day.

Though it was bright and sunny the next day, Saturday morning felt extremely saddening. Refugees camped along the street only meters away from the floods. People are stuffed in trucks, lorries, busses, military units, even car transporters. Male, female, old, young, the sick, the healthy, we were all helpless. Loads of rice sacks from charities around the area had poured-in to be cooked. The numbers of refugees were rising, doubling the servings and efforts all of us had to carry out the previous day. All of these had to happen in the dampened ambiance, it was humid, hot and dark. Power lines had been shut-off for the area. At around two, grandmamma called notifying that the waters in her neighborhood had raised dramatically. We had to somehow get her out of there asap. Other alarms rang almost at the same time: Supplies of safe drinking water and the liquid petroleum gas to cook for the relieve effort had dwindled. Thankfully there were so many of us to ask around for help in this case.

Borrowing the company’s semi-truck, I hopped behind the wheels pretending that I was driving an amphibious vehicle to get to grandmama’s place. Alongside, we saw hundreds of people waited in vain for the water to decline, dead cars strewn across regular streets-cum-muddy brooks. It was so heart wrenching to witness this elderly person who was carried into a wheel cart to be rescued out of his house. When finally reaching her house, I had to be grateful that the street in front of grandmama’s was still dry, thus easier for us to shuffle her to our residence.

While you could get very busy during the tragic days, nighttimes were another story. Boredom killed me to the bones throughout the weekend. I managed to have some office papers done, watched some DVD-s, read some books and magazines, and even wrote some entries for this particular blog. Bored you say? Yeah, I know, at least I was still very lucky that my dwelling was safe and the electricity didn’t pass-out. Erm, but I had no tv and no internet!

When Sunday arrived, some of the victims were able to get home, while in some areas the water level even rose to a never-before-seen frightening rate. By noon, seeing that more people were there to help the relief effort, I decided to disappear for a while. Did it in a very hush-hush manner, I fled. Of course, I didn’t want to be seen to be so pathetically ignorant. Yes, slap me darlings. I went to Senayan City (hey, I need to buy groceries for the home!), and then I was even able to kill some time in the Temple… of Body Worship, a.k.a the gym.

If the New Yorkers had coined the question, “Where were you during the 911 attack?” now, we Jakartans could also boast: “So what’s your 2007 banjir story?”

Monday, 2:10 AM: It should be a full moon somewhere in the night sky. The tide is high. There is little chance of natural water recession out of the city into the bay. And to make matters worse, it’s drizzling again outside. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry for some of us who were hit by this great flood. Maybe we can all arrange things to help our own pals in needs? Hope y’all be strong. This too, shall pass.


End Note: Picture courtesy of Kompas Publication.

Aku Tahu Rasanya

“Aku tau rasanya dikhianati oleh kekasih... Aku tau rasanya ditinggal pergi oleh kekasih... Yang kusayangi setengah mati…” Sebenarnya, ini bukan masalah hati saya, tapi rasanya kok cukup mengganggu yah? Dari telinga masuk ke benak perlahan-lahan, kata demi kata. Sepertinya ada sesuatu yang aneh dan kurang pas aja.

Apakah benar bahwa ini adalah masalah dalam penggunaan tata krama berbahasa Indonesia yang baik dan benar? Yang sudah terlalu lama di pandang sebelah mata bahkan oleh urang-awak sendiri? Yang dibiarkan terdegradasi menjadi bahasa harian tanpa pakem dan tanpa pengawasan? Yang pada akhirnya hanya menjadi sebuah: Ya sutralah mau diapain lagi bow? Cape-deh.

Sebenarnya saya tidak mengganggap ada yang salah dalam hal ini. Asalkan bahasa yang informal ataupun yang akrab untuk dilafalkan sehari-hari tersebut dipergunakaan dalam siklus percakapan sewajarnya dari umat ke umat. Tetapi menurut saya, setidaknya pihak media mempunyai sedikit tugas untuk tetap bertanggung jawab sebagai corong pendidik masyarakat. Dalam hal ini untuk menyebarluaskan bahasa Indonesia seperti zaman para proklamator kita itu.

Pada kemana yah, alur-alur kata yang mengalir dengan cantik dan anggun seperti yang dulu-dulu? Zaman itu saya masih ingat bahwa tidak semua orang mampu mencerna halaman depan sebuah surat kabar nasional dengan baik. Apakah mungkin karena kosa katanya yang terlalu berwibawa? Bandingkan dengan tabloid populer yang ber-head-line: “Suami Banyak Utang Stress Lalu Bakar Istri Sendiri Pakai Minyak Tanah Sampai Hangus Ngga Bisa Dikenali Lagi...”

Banyak pihak yang nampaknya tidak sadar akan kekuatan dari tutur kata. Apalagi bila jalinan huruf dan kalimat terus menerus diulangi, disebarluaskan, dan dipopulerkan oleh ratusan stasiun radio, televisi atapun situs-situs internet moderen saat ini. Genre musik pop-pun tanpa disadari turut menjadi tauladan bagaimana generasi ini harus berceloteh dan bercengkrama dalam kesehariannya.

Ambil saja lirik di atas. Kalimat-kalimat yang saya petik tadi berasal dari lagu pembuka dalam album teranyar Pinkan Mambo, yang memang diberi label “Aku Tahu Rasanya”. Kalimat terakhir yang mengganggu saya adalah: “Yang kusayangi setengah mati”. Saya sebetulnya cukup yakin bahwa Mbak Trie Utami sebagai penulis dan pencipta lagu tersebut mampu mencari padanan dari kalimat “setengah mati” yang terlalu sehari-hari itu hingga kemudian menjelmakannya menjadi sesuatu yang lebih elegan.

Dalam bermusik, tentu saja jumlah suku kata sangatlah berpengaruh dalam pilihan katanya. Misalnya, teks “setengah mati” tidak bisa sekenanya diganti dengan kalimat “sangat mendalam” karena akan ada sebuah kata sambung yang hilang bila dibubuhkan dalam potongan irama tersebut. Atau mungkin faktor “terlalu kuno” atau “tidak populer lagi” membuat beberapa kalimat cantik terasa dihindari banyak pencipta lagu belakangan ini?

Masih terngiangkah lagu “Bila Kuingat” -nya Lingua di telinga Anda? Aransemen musik dan lirik yang sangat cantik dan mendayu itu harus ternodai oleh sebuah kata tunggal yang merusak keseluruhan lagu. Sayang sekali rasanya, apalagi nada-nada tersebut harus keluar dari dapur pacu sosok sekaliber Yovie Widianto:

“Bila kuingat janji manismu… Kutunggu sampai malam meninggalkanku. Semoga bukan angan… Yang kelamaan”

Hingga saat ini saya masih tidak sepenuhnya mengerti maksud dari penggunaan kata “kelamaan” dalam lirik lagu itu. Apakah “kelamaan” di sini berarti “takut terlambat” atau malah “sudah terlambat”? Apakah kata “telah” masih bisa disematkan di sana? Misalnya: “Semoga bukan angan… Yang t’lah terlambat…”. Masih cantik bukan untuk mengakhiri lagu tersebut?

Yah, terus terang saja saya tidak terlalu berharap banyak atas grup musik Tangga dengan lagu andalan terbarunya, Cinta Begini. Bahkan judulnya saja, Cinta Begini, sudah terdengar tidak lazim untuk dipergunakan sebagai sebuah judul. Cinta seperti apa sih yang ingin kau jual dalam albummu itu? Sebelum saya lanjutkan, saya harus jujur mengakui bahwa saya telah terlanjur jatuh cinta dengan aransemen dari lagu tersebut. Bahkan dengan komposisi lirik yang terdengar aneh-pun, semuanya dapat saya maafkan.

Pertama, kalimat pembuka:
“Aku bisa terima
Meski harus terluka
Karena ku terlalu mengenal hatimu…”

Kemudian untaian mutiara di atas dihantam oleh bait kedua yang tepat menghadang setelah chorus berlalu:
“Ku tak bisa terima
Bila terus tak setia
Menghianati dia
Menduakan cinta”

Jadi apakah sebenarnya beliau-beliau ini bisa terima atau tidak bisa terima dengan keadaan yang dialaminya? Apakah bait pertama seharusnya dinyanyikan oleh pihak pertama dan bait penghantam tadi dinyanyikan oleh pihak yang “tak tahan untuk kembali ke yayang lainnya”? (Apakah pertanyaan ini terjawab dalam video-klipnya yang belum sempat saya simak hingga saat ini?)

Belum lagi adanya pemaksaan kata dalam segaris alunan:
“Kau takkan bisa lama
Berpaling darinya…”

Potongan melodi yang seharusnya terbagi menjadi enam suku kata kemudian digemukkan menjadi tujuh suku kata dalam “Kau takkan bisa lama”. Pemaksaan di sini terdengar aneh dan sangat mengganggu alunan musik yang seharusnya indah.

Tidak hanya berhenti di sana… Bahkan Andi Rianto yang dengan piawainya berkolaborasi dengan Monty Tiwa-pun tak luput dari penggunaan kata yang redundant, atau “berulang” yang seharusnya dapat dicari padanan kata lainnya:

“Jangan pernah ada pernah…Terucap lagi. Aku benci kata itu. Karena cinta kita bukan pernah… Tapi ada sekarang dan untuk selamanya…”

Melodi yang cantik akhirnya harus terusik dengan redundancy (pengulangan yang terlalu sering) dari kata “pernah” yang seolah dipaksa bekerja rodi dalam penggunaannya hanya karena memang lirik tersebut khusus dipersiapkan untuk lagu yang berjudul “Pernah”.

Jika tak mau “terucap lagi..” di masa yang akan datang, mungkin kata “pernah” yang pertama setidaknya dapat disubstitusikan dengan:

“Jangan akan ada pernah… Terucap lagi…” (dari “Jangan pernah ada pernah...”)

Dan pada akhirnya Mbak Pinkan Mambo sangatlah pantas kita pergunakan sekali lagi untuk menyudahi tulisan ini.

Ingatlah kembali lirik-lirik di atas. Bisa jadi, karena beliau terlalu sering disakiti hatinya oleh pria-pria berhidung belang dengan: “Aku tau rasanya dikhianati oleh kekasih... Aku tau rasanya ditinggal pergi oleh kekasih... Yang kusayangi setengah mati…”

Maka beliau memutuskan untuk membalas dendam dalam kisah asmaranya yang selanjutnya (yang benar-benar diletakkan sebagai lagu bernomor urut dua) dengan lagu “tukang selingkuh” yang bertajuk, “Dirimu Dirinya”:

“Ku tak ingin hidup tanpa rasa bahagia
Bahagiaku bila banyak cinta…

Pernah ku setia namun hidup terasa hambar
Bukannya aku jahanam…
Ku hanya mencari senang…”

Baiklah Mbak Pinkan, bila dengan begini dirimyu tetap tidak merasa sebagai seorang jahanam …

Yang pasti…
Aku Tahu kok…
Rasanya… Thesaurus Bahasa Indonesia bole dicoba tuh.

Ternyata ya, band-band Rock Indonesia sepertinya lebih romantis dan cantik dalam mengemas balada-baladanya. Ga percaya? Hayuh coba dicek dan dibuka iPod-nya masing-masing!

End Note: Thesaurus Bahasa Indonesia is available at your local bookstores. Please use it wisely (and dearly). Terimakasih buat lagu-lagunya yang cantik Mas Yovie, Lingua, Mas Andi dan Monty, Mbak Trie, Mbak Melly dan Mbak Pinkan and all of you guys di Tangga. I still love y’all very much, pengen liat yang lebih baiknya aja di tahun-tahun depan yak!

Getting Personal - Part Deux

Two weeks had gone by from the first time he offered me his services. My budget angel had won the competition over the devil: I am still personal-trainer-less as of today. Yet, the devil appeared to have his own way of seducing the mere-human in me. There I saw Yutaka again, on the incline bench-press, laying his sexy lumberjack physique. Legs spread wide with his arms gripping the bar ready to push. And then he smiled at me. The same warm smile that he gave me every other day. A perfect Kodak moment.

Darn. I felt smitten by this hot cat of a hunk. I managed to hold my breath steady when he jumped off the bench and greeted me.

“So, what’s your training regime today?”

Skimming nervously at the list,
“Chest on free-weights, I think…”

Surprisingly Michiko had changed my training routines starting that day. Now, how the hell shall I perform these new ones? I’ve never touched any free-weight pressing station previously in my life.

As I loaded the weights at the flat chest-press station, Yutaka approached me again.

“How heavy you need it?”
“Ten kilos on each side…”

“Okay, get in here!” he ordered me to lay on the bench.

He showed me how far my grips were supposed to be prior to almost loosing the balance of the free flying weighted bar. Then of course he quickly came to the rescue just before I immensely enjoyed what happened next.

Spread nicely only inches away as my vista, I can definitely smell his awesome manliness. Oh, I felt like licking his balls from down under if you know what I mean. As I lower the bar closer to my chest, his stance would go lower as well. Really, the thin layer of air was just a centimeter away before my nose would hit his sack of balls. Too bad he was wearing a training-pants not shorts. Shucks.

Keeping the required 12 reps I then rested for a while and at that perfect moment he daringly said, “The bar should fall just above the mid-section of your chest, right about here…”, while deliberately brushing both my protruding nipples with his forefingers.

It was so intense I swear I was drenching cold sweats from my forehead.

But I never knew that moving to the decline chest-press station after the previous 3 sets of flats would be so much fun.

This time he would move forward to help me steady my grips. By the time when lowering the bar was necessary, his perfect ass would linger on my grinning face. Arrghhh…. In my head I was trying so hard to figure out a way for him to literally sit on my face in order for me to give him a rim-job he’d never forget in his entire life!

Did he do that on purpose? Was he even supposed to stand that way to help support me? Why haven’t I seen any other spotting buddies situated himself so erotically-correct like this before anywhere?

Damn you Mister Devil.

After all the trainings were done for the day, he gave me that devilish warm smile again.

“See you Monday!” he said curtly without bringing-up the personal training subject again.

Angel: Oh, he’s good. He’s very good at this. I hate you
Devil: No, trust me, you’ll love me!

My Ojek

“Dude, you’re getting mad with the way you drive this bike!” I heard myself yelled in fear. “Oh you think so? First, the idiosyncrasy of those city planning gentlemen who forced us to turn-on the head-lights at all hours, then came the extreme left-lane only drive-zone, then they are planning to eliminate us altogether, the motor-bikers, from the entire important boulevards! How do you think we are supposed to feel? Driving madly is the least thing I may just do to ventilate this rage!”

Well, there he verbally imposed it perfectly. Rizky, my regular tukang ojek (motor-cab driver) hottie, does have a lot of reasons to be perfectly angry lately. If the city planners have their way, very soon, Rizky will have to bid adieu to his three-year-long reign, err, livelihood around the Avenue Thamrin-Sudirman.

A couple of weeks back, when the first new motor-law was enforced, I was having a bit of an argument with a friend of mine who actually rode on his ultra-cool Tiger bike everyday from home to work and anywhere in between. I took a stand on agreeing with the city planners about the “lights-on” all day long. Because I sincerely felt that any trace of light bouncing on cars’ and buses’ side view mirrors will alert the drivers to enhance, if not greater ensure the safety of the bikers themselves. He was skeptical on this part. He asked for any research done on decreasing road accidents due to lights-on in any part of the universe, in which of course I couldn’t produce. He was even madder to know that this single act would accelerate the life, or shall I say the death, of the little bulb inside the lampshell casing. “And NO, it’s not cheap buddy!” he persisted. “But your life isn’t either darling…” I retorted.

Then of course I did rejoice the decision on the second new motor-law of having the bikers stay on the very left of the lanes in specific crowded passages. The effect was immediate. I saw orderly conducts and lessen traffic congestions and fewer accidents in the streets (at least in front of me). I was like, yay! Finally Jakarta was able to manage its street-izens. But of course getting their ways around would take longer time and patience had to be well under control on the side of the bikers themselves.

For all I was concerned about, I thought these new laws were made to help lift the 3-in-1 bans at certain times during the day. Geez, they even made more lanes for cars (though insufficient for speeding due to the narrowness of the new lanes). This psyched me up for I was so ready to embark on the new ERP (or ERM, or whateva) system: A way that the Singapore government use as an auto-debit toll road method to decrease usage of the main thoroughfares. How far are we into this new system? Only God knows.

Finally when we heard rumors that important avenues will no longer support bikers, they just flipped. I didn’t agree on the 3-in-1 systems, and this new future law doesn’t seem to be well thought of either. What will happen to our friendly ojek hotties? What will happen to our reliable couriers? What about fast-food deliveries at times that we’d really really need them? Trust me, Jakarta is not ready for those insanely outrageous bike messengers that you see flying across Manhattan. How many more lives (e.g. bike messengers’) will be mourned getting hit by motorists, crazy bus drivers, metro-minis, and even seemingly possessed bajaj drivers?

If you happened to be on a Jakarta street lately, it seemed that bikers had no longer obey the lights-on rule nor the left-lane only zone for all they’d care. Bikers got even more obnoxious by sticking to their ways, commanding buses and cars to move away from their paths. They felt empowered by the frustrations. It almost felt like another vox-populi had resurged and could be lethal if we just sit still without trying to find a way for a win-win situation. Road rages are frequent again after only less than a month of considerable peace in the streets.

“And you know what hurts us the most?” my cute ojek driver continued. “It’s the feeling that you are treated as a second class citizen. Just because we cannot afford to own cars, that doesn’t mean that we have lesser standings than any other people who are able to enjoy the city’s public streets!” he then lowered his speed and stopped in front of my office building.

Well said Rizky.

“That will be seven and a half thousand Sir…”

For that lingering smile and the thumbs-up pose he gave me, I should give him ten.
But then again I am cheap.

Getting Personal

“This is how you hold-on to them”, he literally showed me the ropes in front of me. Wow, this is kinda kinky, I told myself. “Now spread your legs just a bit… Yes, that will do”, he corrected my position while grabbing my thighs as he pleased. “Are you ready?” gently he asked me. “Ready when you are…” I said holding my breath. He then enveloped me from behind. I let his fingers resting on my upper arms. Darn, I wish he’d let his head down to relax on my shoulder blades. This is it. “One, two, three, four, five…” he started counting while my arms were pushing the ropes down. Gosh, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. “Now do this for twenty more reps!”. (Sighed). “Yes, Sir!”

It all started when Michiko, one of the trainers in my gym mentioned that lately she had seen a good development on my physique. I was of course forever skeptical as always: “But I didn’t loose any weight and my waist still bursts out of seams!”. Then Yutaka who’d successfully created an arm-and-shoulder envy amongst other trainers and members alike, suddenly appeared from the horizon. “To expedite your development, why don’t you try having a personal trainer Sir?” he asked.

Wrong timing! I can barely save for my future, let alone spending another chunk on a very vain reason.

“So what’s your program?” I asked politely.

“It’s gonna be a guided 12 days, in which you may spread them in 2 or 3 times/ week”

“Yeah, and how much would that cost me?”

“Two and half”

“As in millions of Rupiah?”

“Correct Sir.”

“Wow, I am not sure if I have that kinda budget right now” I replied frankly.

“Well, why don’t I give you a free training session today for you to get the gist of having a personal trainer?”

Gulping, I stared at his puppy eyes and was drawn immediately to his sensuous lips.

“Sss…Shure…” I nodded.

Of course Yutaka was the most wonderful army-sergeant type of a trainer who pushed me to the limit that day. Sore muscles were at-the-least a price to pay to look buffed and pumped at the end of the session. And furthermore, I got a chance to get very personal with him. In this case I was in total-surrender-mode while letting him hold my back at the gravitron, grab my ass at the hamstring curl, cradle me on a sit-up bench, lock arms and gazes while performing side-way crunches, and best of all I got to feel his basket (yes, with my glutes!) during the triceps-pushdowns.

Darn you Yutaka. Now, I want you to train me so bad.

Angel: Pay bills
Devil: Have fun
Angel: End loans
Devil: Isn’t he hot?
Angel: Yeah, like he’s gonna EVER let you touch him at the end ?
Devil: You’ll never know if you haven’t tried…
Angel: Oh please don’t even start seeing him as a pay-boy that one may just use for one’s mortal pleasure.
Devil: But I will… Be paying him, no?

Now, I am confused. Will the money spent for the pseudo-erotic training sessions with him be a good investment? Am I sure that I will see any hardened muscle group (other than my dick) as the result of the six-week program?

At any case it’s at least worthy to think about. Hmm.

Angel: NO!!
Devil: Oh Shut up bitch…

Mameha and a Stray Puppy

The way he danced was quite charming actually. Smooth moves, nicely done, nothing erratic, nothing too sassy, just (manly) enough to get my attention. He was pretty cute in the limelight, casually attired in t-shirts and jeans. After more than the half-a-year hiatus for me, nothing better than that would holla: Welcome back to Club Paradis. After all, he seemed to be alone there. Right in the middle of the dance floor. Darn you: a stray puppy in a circuit party!

Not too long ago an old acquaintance of mine, my brondong-jenius, started calling me Mameha for the obvious reasons. I am getting old, having my own place in certain society and before senilities had succeed in overtaking my sanity, I do have lots of tricks to share with younger upcoming geishas.

Last week however, my local grips were shaken (not stirred) by the arrival of another Mameha from the Philippines. Even though she was way older than me, however she was gorgeously smashing - due to her intense body and facial treatments. Her aura was glowing with “My name is Voulez-vous-couchez avec-moi-ce-soir and you are who?” written all over her forehead. You’d never guess that she held a PhD somewhere in her pedigree. Yet she insisted to drag me to this circuit party in town at the lowest point in my life. Yes, hubby just left me two weeks ago in my 32nd week of pregnancy. I felt fat and old and unwanted.

It boy stray-puppy finally looked back in my direction. He gave a warm smile prior to approaching us. Darn, darn, darn it. I thought the printed flowing short dress that Ulli (from Project Runway 3) made for me worked splendidly. “Boleh kenalan?” not surprisingly, he made a gesture to the Filipino Mameha. After several attempts, I finally told it boy: “Darling, he doesn’t speak Indonesian… better use other lingua-franca if you really want to get inside her panties”

We went to a street hawker afterward, translating back and forth, his English was darn awful. All I remember was when Curtsy, the other Mameha asked: “What do you do?”. It boy was answering: “I go to a mall today and I buy some things from supermarket”. Although I was licking my wound, I secretly thank God that I didn’t have to bring it boy home. Crushed but yet helped them secure a deal I did. The next morning both of them expressed their gratitude for my help and how they both enjoyed each other very well.

About a week later for the lack of having a man to hug, I became horny as hell. I thought of it boy immediately, as long as I can make sure that there will not be any conversations involved, I should be fine. So messaged him I did. He replied: “I’m home just listening to music. Wanna chat? Call me at home at this number…”. Surprisingly I managed to have an hour-long conversations about his life (the trick to get an it boy felt adored: just talk about him). We made a deal to have dinner later on.

I felt so sad after talking with him. He just wasted his entire life for nothing. Halfway educated, no career to be proud of, still in a school abroad learning English (while he’s approaching 30 in a couple of years). Too much partying can actually do damage on one’s life. Even in Bahasa Indonesia, we still couldn’t understand each other very well.

Met him later on, I brought my self a bunch of friends in case any conversation should go awry. And it happened. His jokes weren’t funny, he mumbled a lot. So much for the pretty face and nothing between his ears. He was introduced to another group of friends. Someone there were willing to take him home asap.

Gave him my good byes, it was late already. He asked politely, “Are we gonna meet again later tonight somewhere?”. I said no, since I was really tired. Letting him went out with that other hot guy made me feel defeated (again). But then again maybe I didn’t state my case clearer anyway.

Stupidly not only that I felt sorry for him (for people who’d laugh behind his back and only wanted him to be their sex-toy), I kinda felt like taking him under my wings. Yes, I do want to sleep with him as well, let’s not be naïve on that. But furthermore, I dunno why I felt like taking care of him, my own stray puppy.

I’m mellow and pregnant with a dead-beat hubby. Maybe it’s the maternity talking.

Interview with Stray Puppy

This is a flashback from a single conversation that happened at dinner with Mr. Stray Puppy, in front of a couple friends. From here on please imagine the entire evening.

What is your hobby?
I like playing music with a bunch of friends

Oh cool, what (instrument) do you play?
Alternative

Oh yea? Like what?
Cold play, U2…

That’s rock, not alternative. Nirvana would suit better
We used to play Nirvana and then we changed directions

So what instrument do you play?
I do vocals

Really? Now when did you last sing at an event?
Just today

Really this evening?
Yeah, in the bathroom…

…
(insert cricket sound-effect here)

Haha (sour laugh), what did you sing?
Two songs!

Spill
One was.. “Halo Halo Bandung”… and the other was…
Umm (trying to remember)…. “Ibu Kota Periangan”…

……
(insert a generous amount of cricket sound-effect here)

For the foreign readers, they were actually lyrics from the same song.