Firdauz takes 5

There’s a friend of mine.

His name, is Simon Seow. I always thought he’s pretty dumb (joking la! hihi). But i swear to God, he’s not.

I swear by Muhammad, i swear by Jesus, i swear by the father of Christmas Simon Seow is not a siao person nor that he’s dumb.

He’s a genius.

He asked me why do we need to pay RM 2 for using premium toilets.

Why not any other amount, i thought. Why not 4 million, why not 5 ringgit, why not eleven ringgit, why not free holy mother of Mary who had those little lambs and gave one to Mary.

Anybody has the answer?

No?

You guys suck!

Teehee =P

People say a lot of things, they speak everything to their liking.

Today, i will too.

They say i’m from Sarawak and ask me about Rumah Panjang, they say i’m from Sabah that’s why i eat BKT, they say i’m from Mauritius and i need a passport to go to MidValley. They say i’m kind, they say i’m bad, they say i’m nice and i’m stupid on repeat.

Firdauz you’re so nice, Firdauz you’re so bad, Firdauz you’re so kind, Firdauz you’re so stupid i’m gonna repeat this.

People say i’m 23, 22, 21, they always exaggerate. Everything they say is inaccurate.

2

“Firdauz, you look 17,” the winner, the sweet Miss Universe had spoken in Little Penang Cafe in KLCC during lunch today. But she probably had the right to lie because she belanja us lunch. Terima Kasih! Huhu.

“Yeah loh, when i first met him, i didn’t know that he’s 28,” the first runner-up, my dear Pinky was championing her Miss Universe.

All i did was just smiling at them. They were my friends, and i loved them before the phone rang, and hated everything after this phone call.

“Firdauz, kitaorang kat KLCC,” girlfriend number XX and ex-girlfriend number XXX had called me when i was having my lunch.

“Ohh… I pun kat KLCC. Nanti kalau terserempak buat bodoh je tau.” I told them to stay away from me, not because i was being arrogant.

Not because they made me lose my mood

But it was because i had a severe diarrhoea the moment i answered their phone call.

Went to the public toilet 4 times, and once for the premium one.

Today, i paid 2 ringgit for berak, paid nothing for lunch and paid no attention to what i’m writing.

I say what i wanna say lah!

3

I no mood already, bontot sakit tau!

=(

Fuck you, fuck all of you!

Mediums are real.

Here’s the video that shows Malaysian bomohs are the best.

Subhaha… what ever!

Ofttimes, they are. But this time, i am.

“Eh, this ‘3-Days/2-Nights Vacation‘ wrong grammar right?” I asked one of my colleagues. “It’s like how ‘A 6-years-old girl‘ is wrong. It’s ‘A 6-year-old girl‘, without the S.” I thought of the syntax of similar examples :

A 24-hour shop, not a 24-hours shop. It’s a 24-hour shop that opens 24 hours a day.

Who is she? She’s a 6-year-old girl. How old is she? She’s 6 years old.

A 9-track album. The album has 9 tracks.

A 3-course meal. The meal has 3 courses.

I thought of The Führer, and how his toothbrush moustache had inspired me to be the world’s greatest dictator. It was in my first post where i posed as the Chancellor himself, performing the salute.

The glory felt like mine.

“I think it’s 3 Days 2 Nights Vacation. Eh, wait, i’m confused. Go google.” said one of them.

I actually knew from the beginning that i was right.

It’s ‘A 3-Day/2-Night Vacation.’ Without the S. Because the ‘ 3-Day/2-Night’ phrase is used as an adjective, not as a countable noun.

In English, there are no plural adjectives. In Malaysian Engrish, there will always be Machibai people whom we refer to as Grammar Nazis.

Today, I am one of them.

Machibai! It feels so nice leh.

My friends are all silly. But thank god Pinky is not. Pinky is not silly. Hell no!

Pinky is sibeh silly, the All-Mother of silliness. Einstein was only half-right when he said “Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity.” What Einstein didn’t know that Pinky’s stupidity isn’t human at all, it’s a divine stupidity. People worship Her because of that.

Ohmmm Pinky, Pinky. Bless us with all stupidity.

What we like is to worship Pinky, and what Pinky likes is to rape Yee Hou, and what Yee Hou likes is to be raped by Pinky and to have us watching. And when they both are tired of raping and being raped, and when we are tired of being just the voyeurs, that’s when i lead them to performing our sacred rite, the secret ride which involves genitals and willingness.

Oh noez.

Muafakat membawa berkat.

P/s: Dila sayang, this is to answer ur tag.

I had slept alone in the office on Thursday, I had slept alone in the office on Sunday; and by Monday, Christopher Tock had slept on the floor in my house, in the television room.

“You wanna sleep in my room?” i asked while waking him up.

“No la. Thank you. I’m okay.” He answered.

“Sleep on the couch then. Why you sleep on the floor one. Not good la.”

“It’s okay,” he then pretended as if he didn’t need to continue his sleep, half-awake, he quickly went to browsing my blog, using his iPhone. “What’s this Ola Oli Chi ke boom, Chi ke boom thing yeah?” He asked me.

“Oh, that one. You dunno leh? It’s a game i played when i was young. It’s the sep sep sep, tom tom tom game,” i sang him the whole song and showed him the moves; i danced with my hands and shoulders and i froze as though i were a statue when the song had finished.

“Funny. When i was young, we had a shorter version. Sep sep sep, bom bom bom. Yes Sir, no Sir, one two jus,”

“Haha. Why so short one!”

Earlier that night, before he came to my house, we had dinner together at a Middle Eastern restaurant, eating couscous with lamb and chicken, with bread and hummus, and washed down our worries with mint tea, diluting anxiety with friendship, strengthening friendship with amazing food.

Today, he turns 24.

Happy b’day darling.

=)

If you guys like free pasta, go to Italiannies this Friday.

I’ve been there twice last week (for free dinner, not just pasta).

Oh yeah! I love it when it’s free!

I woke up having a mild fever this morning.

I woke up having a friend who cared about me having a fever this morning.

“Ajie, makan soup dulu tau before you go to work,” Hidayah shouted from the kitchen.

“Tak nak la Dayah, dah lambat nak gi kerja. It’s okay,” i replied and remained curling on the couch, my favourite couch — which fabrics i bought when i was out with Ovi, haven’t met Ovi for quite sometime.

I dozed off for a few seconds. My mind didn’t travel anywhere. There wasn’t any aroma rising from the kitchen, i remembered nothing.

“Ajie, tu soup Dayah dah buatkan. Makan tau,” I started to remember things when she made the small dining table look big in purpose — she wanted my fever to go away. Her prayers were a bowl of soup — made with love and 10 years of friendship, a cup of warm plain water, and 2 tablets of paracetamol.

“Kalau nak tambah tau. Dayah masak soup tu untuk Ajie,” she always called me Ajie, never Firdauz, never Firdy, never Firrie, never Baby, although she did call me Sayang at times.

“Takpe, thank you,”

I finished the soup, although i did say thank you to Hidayah, it wasn’t what i really wanted to say to her. I was touched, i felt loved and cared, but i didn’t want to make things too awkward by echoing any of my overemotional sentiments.

Hidayah, you’re a good friend. Now i know why after 10 years we are still friends.

“Ola, Oli, ku beri nama, saudara, saudari. Chi ke boom! Chi ke boom!” sambil mengangkat bahu.

“Chi ke boom! Chi ke boom!” mengulang kali kedua, merasa sedikit bahagia.

“Chi ke boom! Chi ke boom!” mengulang kali ketiga, aku dah macam masuk syurga.

“Malam-malam minggu, siang-siang hari (disco! disco!). Putih-putih melati (Ali Baba), merah-merah jelita (meow meow), siapa yang baik hati (Cinderella),” dan semua akan bersedia untuk menjadi patung. Tak boleh ketawa, walaupun itu lah yang terasa nak buat.

Kena tahan gelak. Tutup mulut, tak boleh nampak gigi tau.

“Tau tau tau tau tau tau tau!” konon-konon tangan aku tu pistol la, aku tembak-tembak perut kawan. Dia pun akan melengkokkan badan, merendahkan kepala ke sebelah bahu, yang sebelah lagi akan terdedah, dan kemudiannya akan ku serang.

“Geletek, geletek, geletek!” kalau di lihat mata kasar, akan nampak seperti aku tengah mencekik anak orang. Kalau dilihat mata halus, akan nampak seperti aku seekor anak beruang yang jinak, dulu kan aku gemuk sikit, sekarang kan aku dah gemuk banyak.

Mata apa pun orang tengok, anak beruang ke elephant ke, tujuan aku ikhlas. Aku nak kawan aku tu, ketawa sampai terkencing. Takut kalau dia tak terkencing, tahan-tahan nanti kena batu karang, kan.

Lepas dah puas main dengan kawan dekat padang, lepas dah betul-betul sure kawan aku takkan kena batu karang, aku akan berlari laju-laju ke rumah. Kecik-kecik dulu, aku mana tahu jalan perlahan-lahan. Dulu kan kasut aku power.

Sampai rumah, bila lapar, atau haus, semuanya self-service. Masa tu, kalau haus, aku akan minum air Sunquick — “satu sukatan kehidupan, 9 sukatan air,” aku memang pandai bercakap dengan diri sendiri. “5 sukatan air lah,” aku letak lebih sikit pati Sunquick. Lepas tutup botol, dan setelah memastikan Umie dan Abang takde kat dapur, setelah itu jugalah aku jilat penutup Sunquick tu. Manis, ermmm.

Dan aku capai roti, keluarkan susu pekat F&N dari fridge, dan mendongak tengok milo kat atas gerobok tu (nenek dan ibu saya orang Johor, gerobok itu almari).

“Semalam dah cuba 8 bulatan susu pekat F&N atas roti, hari ni nak try zig-zag zig-zag,” masa kecik dulu, aku takda skill cakap dalam hati, jadi memang aku cakap sorang-sorang verbally. Susu pekat tu, selalu nak tunggu dia turun lambat sangat. Tin tu ada 2 lubang, Umie buat kan. Satu lubang pernafasan, untuk aku tiup kuat-kuat, satu lubang tempat dia mengalir dan jatuh ke atas roti. “Bentuk dia hari ini, zig-zag zig-zag.”

Aku ambik bangku merah, ambik sudu, capai tin milo, bukak tin milo guna belakang sudu, kalau kemek, memang aku yang selalu kena marah dengan Umie. Kalau tak kemek, tak pernah pun Umie puji aku skillful. Jadi aku tak kisah kalau kena marah lepas ni. Dari atas bangku, aku tabur milo tinggi-tinggi. “Ini resepi baru, semalam milo tu tak tinggi sangat, kot.”

Ermmm… roti milo ni best.

Tahu tak sekarang ni nilai apa yang diterap kan ke susu pekat F&N. Bukan Ola Oli lagi yang boleh aku relate kan, tapi.. Rukun Negara.

Rukun Negara?????? Aku terasa macam menyesal tak cekek kawan aku tu dulu sampai dia jumpa cahaya terang dari langit yang memangggil nama dia. Dia kot yang letak rukun negara kat tin susu pekat F&N ni, pasal dia tahu aku akan membesar dan melawan rukun yang pertama?

Mayer Hawthorne – Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out

Been playing this non-stop.

Terangnya Ahad di Damansara mungkin kerana hijau daun disimbah kuning matahari itu meluaskan warna; dan membuka kelopak cendawan dan melebarkan spektrum 7 warna dari kaki langit, ke dada syurga dan ke kaki langit sebelah sana — pelangi; merehatkan mata bila bumi Damansara ini sudah puas dibilas rahmat dan menenangkan jiwa bila aku lagukan bahasa dalam kepala. Udara yang segar dan perasaan yang nyaman ini lembut dan enak bila disentuh sedikit kehangatan, dan bila selesai hujan 20 minit, dan matahari kembali ke posisi 2.00 petang. Syurga, tak boleh buka lama-lama aku rasa, syurga kan sedih, asyik menangis sahaja.

Aku suka matahari, dia panas. Macam nereka. (Sekarang, kamu senyap, baca balik semua yang tertinggal, dan pura-pura faham).

(Kemudian, matikan kefahaman itu. Bunuh si kura-kura. Dan tinggalkan sifat ingin tahu. Biar aku pimpin tangan kamu, okay?)

Sekarang, aku hidupkan cerita petang semalam.

When the heavens opened, the pressure in the bottle made the heady perfume of exotic jasmines and daises, maybe lilacs and roses or maybe there wasn’t any flower in it, jump to my collar t-shirt — it was raining outside when i made sure i smelled like Sunday — fresh but yet bold and a little dangerous, preparing myself for another lunch date.

I walked through the crowd, passing by the chatter in their head, wondering why the best person to talk to, was ourselves and if God started as a chatter in someone else’s head before it was a belief. Before He was a higher entity, before there were stories of a tree, a forbidden apple, a naked guy, a butt-naked girl, of conscience and the hilarious Lucifer — there was always sin in laughter. Maybe it all started like mine, it all started in our mind. God never really existed, only in our head, i thought. Never as physical as when Lolina’s soft skin touching mine when she grabbed my hand for i had reached to the bench she was sitting on.

“Hi, hihihihihihi. Sorry i lambat!”

“Takpe,”

Dan becerita lah Ahad tentang syurga dan nereka.

Lolina, sampai bila kamu mahu sayang aku secara sembunyi-sembunyi. Huhu =P

The sequel to Chapter 1. The paradox of my life, an autobiography.

4.

When Abang turned 6 on February 1985, Umie saw some natural and raw talent in both of us — shown in the bruises, heard from the noises. If my talent was crying and Abang’s talent was to make me cry and Umie didn’t have the talent to make us stop hurting each other, that was when she left it to the talented kindergarten teachers.

“Tadika Ehsan, tadika Islam, Seksyen tiga di Shah Alam.” 8 in the morning of each weekday, in the lawn of a bungalow that had been turned into an Islamic kindergarten, this was among my first acquired skills — singing nursery rhymes was only my first training. I would soon be trained to memorize the verses from the Quran, memorize 99 names of God, and when the necessary training was completed, i would soon write the journey of losing the faith in what i had been trained for.

The paradox of my life, an autobiography.

When i was 5, Umie and the constitution of my country had already decided the religion of her children. Umie had also decided when Abang had to enter kindergarten, i had to follow. When Abang needed a new toy truck, i would got mine a replica of a sport car. When Abang needed someone he could punch and yell at, that was when i decided i was always good at flying those new toys at him.

Plastic trucks and metal replicas of sport cars would fly in the room where we slept.

Bruises and noises and toys scattered on the floor were once again the indication of our mutual talent, seen and understood by Umie.

5.

“Ma ismuka, ma ismuki, Siapa nama anta siapa nama ente,” the female kindergarten teacher would rhyme in Arabic, followed by a Malay translation. And then she would point to random children, with her thumb lowered.

“Ismi Fairuz, Ismi Fairuz, nama anna Fairuz nama anna Fairuz,” Abang rhymed happily and pointed to Fitri.

The teacher would then explain what our Arabic names meant in Malay. She explained to us of why we had arabic names and no longer using Malay names such as Cempaka, Hang Jebat, Bawang Merah and Bawang Putih. Guided by religious faith, made confident by the Quran, she spoke of God’s messages without fear and her words were rich and tranquilizing and she was so certain that Arabic being the language in which God speaks in Heavens.

While the class was laughing when she made a joke of Fitri’s name having the same meaning as “Selamat Hari Raya”, the class was mesmerized when she explained what my name meant.

“Firdauz maknanya syurga. Syurga pertama dari tujuh syurga yang di cipta Allah,” the kindergarten teacher explained as if i had the best name.

“Woooooooooooooowwwwwww. Fairuz?”

“Fairuz maknanya batu permata. Cantik, dari syurga.”

***

Dan bagai permata yang turun dari syurga, aku mencantikkan bahasa pada tulisan yang biasa ini. Untuk seorang Abang, untuk kasih sayang keluarga yang semakin hari gersang, kamu maafkan aku jika pilihan agama aku, sedikit terlarang.

Syurga untuk kamu. Firdauz.

For no particular reasons.

Ginny came to my house because she thought i was the coolest person on earth. She was wrong. If the death of stars, and the catastrophic explosions of supernovas collected mass and formed matter when it cooled down, and if life came from the coldness of water, then i think what breathed soul into life must have come from the fire in Ginny’s eyes and tainted by her sweet little devilish smile.

“Ginny, finish your potato! I thought you like potato one,” scolding ginny had made me feel as though i were¹ the Almighty God.

“I cannot, i die already,” and then she lay² on the floor. Making cute faces.

“What die? Faster finish your potato!”

“I cannot”

“Finish it!”

Earlier, we had ordered swedish food for both of us. Schweizer chop for Ginny, and swedish kalops for me. I was too lazy to cook.

Ginny, don’t die. Come back again sometime? I cook?

*****

For Grammer Natzees :