hw r u flng nw?

weak. bt its fun 2 hear my belly in concert


a chance

what is your passion? what do you want to do in life? what excites to to wake up every morning (or day, for late-riser)? what makes you do things which may seem silly for other people but precious for you and you just don’t care about they think? to what you dedicate your time and attention? what makes you sacrifice anything? what makes you forget about the bad things happening in your life? or at least bear them for some time…

usually i don’t ask that. i try to find it myself. from people close to me. some people want to become dancers, some want to go to canada, or u.s. or australia. some want to have a pet shop. some want to have kids, some just want to find his or her true love. and it feels good when you realize it. be it other people’s or your own. you see it in their eyes, when they are talking about it. you see how they architect their plans in life.

and now i think i am in the middle of a crisis. i used to tell myself that i want to run a coffee shop. it’s mostly simply because i like coffee. i like cappucino, cafe latte, green tea frappucino. coffee with thick chocolate, liquor, spices, ice cream, whipped cream, even fruits (i like experimenting). i like old posters, i like jazz. i like the atmosphere of paris, and so on. i like to think that those who come to coffee shop are intellectuals. and if they aren’t, at leaast they enjoy their time, alone or with someone special. could be a client. or having precious gossip (gossip is important). in light conversation with my close friend, we had thought about it. i will do the coffee and reading books, my sister will do the cakes and pastry (she makes the best brownies and cheesecake in the world), and she will do the decoration, promotion, etc. of course those are not strict, we can jump into any affair coz anyway it’s a team work. but the second reason is a bit… intriguing. coffee is actually bad for my health. my stomach becomes gassy. and black coffee will give me sore throat. and who knows whatever damage coffee can cause me. so having a coffee world is a kind of my repressed desire. i’m not supposed to drink coffee, so let others have it and i will make them love it. a negation of revenge. could be a passion.

then, ok. i think i have something else. something in which i’m more involved. i like culture. i like art. and i like, to be the subject, to write. i have faith in words. they convey a message, yet hide more. and i kept writing because of my friends. we write and then read each other’s works. comment on them. rewrite. i kept writing because my very best friend supported me. he told me to read this this this, to reorganize the structure, to link one sentence to the next one.

practice, practice, and the strength will follow

you may say he’s my first official fan, but actually i am the one who is always jealous of his writings. the good thing is we are intellectually compatible.

and now he isn’t by my side anymore.

and now you, a soothing music. last carnival. energetic, yet banal.


a poem translated

Dongeng Anjing Api

anjing itu datang. -mengenakan tubuhnya

seperti yang dikenal kini: binatang malam

bersayap air. bertaring bunga. berkelamin api

dongeng pun tumbuh

perahu kupu-kupu.hewan geladag

bah dan gunung pasir

mengikuti cahaya. -sehitam malam, bayangannya

mengintai. serupa cahaya, meraih warna

tapi bebunga yang mewangi dari telapak tangan

hanya mekar hitam-putih

anjing itu mendengus

mengendus daging terbakar

anjing api itu tak pernah tua

tak pernah kehilangan lapar

dikenakannya taring rama-rama

diperasnya susu merpati

matanya tak lagi menunjukkan arah gelap

matanya berdarah
sementara, -waktu adalah musim kawin

gonggongannya menjadi isyarat berbagi birahi

di dunia yang senantiasa basah oleh liurnya

seluas rumah potong terbuka yang abadi

This is a poem by Sindu Putra. I translated it from Indonesian.


A Tale of a Fire Dog

The dog comes. –with his body

Like what he’s famous for: nocturnal animal

Wings of water. Fangs of flower. Fire of desire

A tale then grows

Boat of butterfly. Untamed beast

The flood and the desert

Tailing the light. –dark as the night, his shadow

Is stalking. Like the light, grasping colors

Yet the flowers’ fragrance oozing from the palm

Is only blooming black and white

The dog sniffs

Snuffles a chunk of burnt meat

The fire dog never grows old

Never loses appetite

He wears butterfly’s fangs

Milking the pigeons

His eyes no longer shows a tint of darkness

His eyes are blood red, -it’s mating season

His bark is a cue for sharing lust

In the world forever drenched with his saliva

spacious as an eternal slaughter house




i was reading a novel, beloved by toni morrison. yes, i was also cheating. i opened a guideweb. but then i was stunned by a very simple line. more or less it says, paul d cannot express his feeling, therefore he was alienated from himself. i felt, how true it is. it may be the thing that is happening to me.

today i saw a truck with the load of… hmm… they were green. and very neat. the shape like a pyramid. the texture like temple ornament. guess what? they were phul gobi, cauliflowers. i saw it the second time, after yesterday. it’s nice to sit alone in a car, nobody speaks to you. and you are free to look anywhere (i’m not driving). and the driver does not know what i observe as i’m wearing sunglasses. the traffic was bad, as always. it’s a big city. but at least it’s better than my home town. i saw a big metro station also. over my head. something that my home town is lacking.

louis pasteur. a surname that reminds me of another city. the city where i lived for five years. that name also came up recently, when i was dealing with pharmaceutical. it was merged with a large company. then i found a quotation in a blog. it says, « Chance favors the prepared mind ». this reminds me of a topic in our course, utopianism. especially when the teacher mentioned about possibility. utopia means a good land, or a no-land. land that never exists. but it must be created, because our world is not perfect. because there is desire. and there is hope.
in the course (so-called comparative literature), we, at least from the book i’m reading – by ruth levitas, talk about philosophy and literature. utopia seems to be unpractical, far from the real world. but pasteur’s quotation was used for the interest of marketing strategy, in the world of business, everybody’s world you may say. so where is the line between the practical and philosophical?