everybody is a philosopher, darling

how far are you going to run away when you know that it will always be there the hollowness the abyss within everything is just fake, betrayal it only adds ice to your numbness opaque mind slit tongue in your well-kept dream will keep haunting which one is real which one is present (tick tick ek… tick tick do… tick tick tiin…)



you know holi, the festival of color. it’s widely celebrated in india, and even i saw an article that it also happened in jakarta, my city. you throw or put colored (and annoyingly scented) powder on other people: on the face, hair, next, arm, etc. sometimes they also use water, so you’ll get drenched. so be careful with your mobile or camera.

it’s nice to see colorful face/body. it gives different look on people. you notice their eyes (white part), teeth more. sometimes they wear bandana or glasses to reduce the surface that can be stained. they wear clothes that is ready for thrash bin. they wear white so that the colors come out to the max. they use waterguns, sometimes even the dispenser like for mosquito fogging. they use pilox (is it washable?). they play music, lie on the street, tear each other’s clothes and talk rubbish due to the effect of bhang. [my professor gave us ghujia–a kind of sweets–and the bhang intoxication was accelerated hehehe] sometimes people just want to touch you, so be careful, please. cause anything is allowed. my friends stole and sold a pile of old newspaper and bought color powder with the money. just say, « holi hai » to justify yourself.

some people vowed not to take bhang ever again as the effect is uncontrollable.

then, after 2pm they wash and clean up. no more throwing colors. skin becomes so dry. some parts of body remained colored, especially forehead near the hair, and ears. some cars cannot be cleaned thoroughly. you see stains on the wall, the floor. the clothes. and when you see somebody wearing stained clothes, you realize that he or she didn’t change the clothes. perhaps they don’t have anything else. like the autorickshaw driver i met last monday.


semakin asing dengan malam. semakin akrab dengan siang.
atau malah sebaliknya?
rentang masa antara
mata terbenam dan mata terbit
semakin sempit
tubuh bergetar

seperti mimpi yang tak mau pergi
tapi pikiran tak mau dikunjungi

mencoba berdiri seperti gasing

di mana waktuku tercecer
di mana resahku tertebar

selalu mencoba menapak
meninggalkan jejak
sekaligus bergerak


it’s screened for ganga hostel night tonight. i went to jhelum lawn, sat for some time. i didn’t realize that i wouldn’t be able to understand the language.

hmm. it’s a classic bollywood movie. amitabh, my love, is there. only saw some clips from my cinema studies class.

my pants were wet. or were they? or just cold that i felt?

coming accompanied by davidson. going back, somehow asad was going to the same way. he’s a hostel mate. nice guy. then had to drop by tapti as my bag was kept in priya’s room. met ahmed. he’s still with h’s guitar. i guess those people were a bit tipsy. then walked to my lovely hostel, with the untuned guitar.

damn tired. i wonder how i could survive the day after the sun comes and sheds its ray…

cultural nite for THE BODY CULTURE: THE CULTURE OF BODY was awesome. great food also (salad, appetizers, drinks also). so.. are going to continue for m.phil? another two years in jnu??? don’t you like it here? hahaha

gotta pack for tomorrow evening (till monday)
gotta sleep for tomorrow morning
gotta study for monday evening.
so what to do?
such existentialist question