The Umpteenth Journal Attempt (Version III)

So I had some time to kill today. Said temporal murder was accomplished via dropping by the QB World Books branch at Pondok Indah. You’re probably familiar with it, it’s that big, garish yellow and blue building across the road from Aquarius. I used to be quite the regular there, be it buying magazines or having a bite at the cafe, and maybe even purchasing a book or two. The past few years, music has taken precedence over books when it comes to my shopping habits, so I’ve been more inclined to go to Aquarius and cross over to QB if I feel like it. I had time to browse before my main engagement of the day, so I made the trip. I had a renewed member’s discount card to pick up anyway.

When I got there, the first thing that caught my eye was "Discount up to 75%" written in large letters above the cashier. Interesting, though unfortunately my current financial situation meant I wouldn’t be able to take advantage at the moment. Had a look around the place, and things started to sink in: entire shelves were empty, the cafe was closed, and the place was bloody hot - they’d turned off the air conditioning. After picking up my member’s card at the cashier, I asked if they were in the middle of renovation. Being polite, because I suspected something much worse. The salesperson confirmed my suspicion. "We’re closing down," he said.

Bummer. Like I said, I used to be a regular here. A place to relax and catch up on some light reading. But on the other hand, it hasn’t been my first-choice bookstore for a while. That’d be Aksara, and even then that’s because it’s become one of my main sources for buying music and I’ve become familiar with quite a few people there.

Back to QB. I asked how long the discount would last. The sales guy said until April the 2nd. In other words, more than three weeks before my next paycheck. So I thought I might as well buy something, for old times’ sake. And hey, seventy percent off? Not too shabby.

Considering the last few books I’ve bought recently have been music-related - heck, the main reason Nick Hornby is my favourite author is because he wrote High Fidelity - I made my way to the music section, the contents of which were sparse. There, I found a single copy of In Their Own Write: Adventures In The Music Press, very relevant to me and what I do. The title says it all, really. I’d been meaning to buy it for a few months now, since I saw a copy of it at QB’s Kemang branch. But I’d been putting it off mainly because of its price, Rp 253,000. But at seventy percent off? Well, you do the maths. The edges were a bit tattered, but it’s not like I’m going to re-sell it in the foreseeable future anyway, especially not for an extortionate price. Oh, and did I mention SEVENTY PERCENT OFF?

As I returned to the single functioning cashier (most likely another result of the shop’s impending doom) to ring up my final purchase, I noticed smart-looking hardcover versions of McSweeney’s Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales near the till. This edition of the popular anthology was edited by Michael Chabon of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay fame, and included contributions by a bunch of writer dudes you may have heard of, including Neil Gaiman, Elmore Leonard, Michael Crichton and Stephen King, plus that Hornby guy I mentioned above. And as I also mentioned, my tendency to buy music-related books meant that I had mostly shied away from novels and most forms of written fiction if it wasn’t in comic book form, but this particular tome was too intriguing to pass up. I asked if the 70% discount applied, and what do you know? It did. Gave my increasingly shrivelling finances some thought, and figured that tightening my belt some more wouldn’t hurt too much.

So I left QB World Books Pondok Indah for the last time with my new purchases in a plastic bag. (No, I did not perform any bizarre farewell ceremonies.) Lord knows if I’ll ever get around to reading them, considering I haven’t finished at least three of the last books I bought. But at least I made one last contribution to a place that’s given me some shred of solace over the years.

Farewell QB World Books Pondok Indah. I’ll be sure to drop by your other branches sometime soon. I probably won’t buy anything, but at least I have my member’s discount card just in case.

Dear Mr., Ms. or Mrs. A Cat,

As I write this you are somewhere in Roadkill Heaven right now, where I inadvertantly sent you at around 5:20 this morning as I was driving to work. I swear it was an accident - I like cats, I’m not really a dog person. Which isn’t to say I’d gladly run over a dog, but I digress.

It all happened so fast; I was keeping my eyes straight ahead and trying to focus on the road, which isn’t so easy when the sun still hasn’t come out. Trying to anticipate people crossing the street, that kind of thing. I wasn’t even speeding. Suddenly you came running across from the right, about five metres in front of the car. I saw you and swerved to the right, hoping to avoid hitting you. But unfortunately it was not enough, and I ended up feeling and hearing two sickening thuds as you got crushed beneath my wheels.

A horrifying experience. I was so shaken up by it that I just went on my way. I just couldn’t pull over, get out and see your spasmic death twitches. I’ve mentioned on here before how it’s a good thing I never got into med school since I’m squeamish; and now it seems I wouldn’t cut it as a vet either. When I got to the office I couldn’t bring myself to look under the car either, but if this was an episode of CSI, I’m sure they’d find all sorts of gruesome, interesting things.

As you might gather, I feel really awful about the whole tragic incident, which will be of small consolation to you, because, well, you’re dead. Even though I probably wouldn’t have got to know you if you were still alive, I’m sure you were a good cat. I deeply regret prematurely ending your life, and I hope you and your litter of kittens (if any) will find it in your hearts to forgive me.

Regretfully yours,

Hasief Ardiasyah

Car maintenance is expensive. I won’t go into details, but I just got paid last Friday and just about all of my paycheck just went into repairs. No accidents or anything, just accumulation of usage over the years. This car is nine years old, so it was time for whatever the mechanics are doing to it at the moment anyway. The only way to prevent what has happened was to not use the car at all, I suppose. But what would be the point of having a car, then?

So some adjustments have to be made until it’s payday again next month. Before I was bringing my own breakfast to work, today I brought lunch. The office has catering, but I don’t like the food and usually hold off until dinner for the big pig-out. That’s just for starters; I’m sure I’ll be cutting down on a lot of things, at least for the next 28 days.

I guess that’s a good thing, because it’ll mean I’ll be more used to putting some more away, something which I’ve always meant to do but…well, let’s just say it hasn’t been easy. Not for a lack of trying, but somehow there’s always some damn thing that comes up.

I’m currently trying to figure out what’s going wrong. Do I spend too much, do I not make enough money or is this city just too expensive? The first two can be rectified, the third is beyond my power. So I guess I’ll cut down on spending, and get an additional means of income. Now what else can a guy like me do? I’ve got to admit that my skills are limited, and the big bucks usually mean doing some mind-numbing, skull-crushing menial job. Or prostitution. Hmmm…

Anyway, it would’ve been nice to have Xzibit or the Indonesian version show up at my door to PIMP MY RIDE! I wouldn’t mind him laughing at the fact that the car’s been handling like a bajaj the past few days, as long as I could get it fixed for free. But no corny paint jobs, please.

I was watching Channel V’s One Hit Wonders last night, and one of the videos that popped up was Charles & Eddie’s "Would I Lie To You." Brought on a flashback to 1993, though I don’t really remember much about the song and video’s details. Prior to last night, here is what I recalled about the band and the song: they were a soul duo, featuring a black guy called Charles Pettigrew and a white guy (though apparently Latino, but definitely whiter than Charles) called Eddie Chacon with the type of silky long hair that you want to feed to a blender because it makes him look like a twat. In the song, I don’t remember Eddie contributing anything of significance other than alternately shouting "Oh yeah!" and "Woo!" in a cheesy, faux-soul style during the choruses.

For some reason, you start to pay attention to the small details when you get older. So here’s what I learnt from a single viewing of the nondescript video over a decade after seeing it repeatedly: Eddie does get to sing a little more than just "Oh yeah!" and "Woo!" The lyrics are rather tacky: "You can read my diary, you’re in every line." Which might seem romantic, but if you think about it and put it down on paper, there’s only so much you can write in a linear fashion with your girlfriend’s name in it without coming off as sick and obsessed.

What happened to Charles & Eddie after this? They released another album in 1995 that flopped, then they split up. Charles passed away from cancer in 2001. Eddie’s still convinced he has a career. Oh yeah.

Got back from my little business trip yesterday. In all, it was quite pleasant. I get the feeling that I must dread these sojourns as much as possible beforehand in order to enjoy them when I finally get around to it. I’m getting used to hotels, and particularly look forward to their Continental breakfasts - crossaints, toast, pancakes, the works. And a hotel breakfast is incomplete if you don’t go to the egg corner and ask for a sunny side-up. Major cholesterol hazard, but I don’t stay at hotels everyday, so there you go. Maybe one day I’ll get around to having one of those breakfasts at home, but for now, I’ll just let the professionals do their job.

So what did I learn from this trip? That Solo and Semarang are pretty decent, as far as cities go. In fact, I can’t figure out why people don’t just stay there instead of moving to Jakarta. The promise of a better life, or so I’ve heard. But as far as I can see, a promise is all it is. What better life? You can find menial, mediocre jobs and maybe even quite decent ones in your own city or the one nearest to your village, so why move to Jakarta for the same thing, only set in a vast, insane metropolis with a much higher cost of living? The big city sure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, but apparently that hasn’t stopped the hundreds of thousands, or however many they are, from moving anyway. Blinded by the bright lights, it seems. If I were them I’d stay put. But since I’m me, I’m staying right here, because there’s nowhere else in this country I’d rather be. As crap as things are, and things are very crap if I keep having to leave for the office at five in the morning every day, everything I need is right here. Besides, I wouldn’t necessarily get a Continental breakfast every morning even if I did move. Well, obviously.

So here I am in Solo, this little internet place at the hotel. It’s a nice hotel, the staff are polite, as they should be. The journey was rather pleasant this time around - left the house at five, went to Blok M by taxi, got on the airport bus and arrived at the airport just over an hour later. Once again, the benefits of leaving Cinere before the sun comes up. This is in stark bloody contrast to the last time I went to the airport, in which I had an 11 o’clock flight and left the house at 6:45 to make sure I had plenty of time to check in. The plan was to go by taxi to Lebak Bulus - closer to home than Blok M - for the airport bus, to save on travel costs.

But as it turned out, an hour later I still hadn’t reached Lebak Bulus and would probably not have made my flight if I had insisted on doing so. At least that’s what the cab driver told me. He then offered to take me through an alternate route, in which he guaranteed I’d be there by ten. Out of options, I agreed. He then took me on a tour of the arse end of Jakarta’s outskirts, heading for Cirendeu, turning right and emerging at Rempoa, going all the way to Bintaro Sektor 9, through Ciledug, and somehow getting to that awful, awful road with all the factories and trucks behind Daan Mogot that eventually leads to the airport. A route that, if I can help it, I will not ever be travelling through again, and spending more than I care to mention just on cab fare.

I finally arrived at 10:45, after three hours on the road. My flight to Solo left at 8:15 and arrived an hour later, so if you subtract the time between getting to Cengkareng and landing in Solo, it was actually quicker. So apparently the difference between sanity and insanity is just under two hours.

I’m feeling better, in case you were wondering. Probably not.

Anyway, tomorrow morning my arse is boarding yet another plane. Not going anywhere too fancy, just Solo and then on to Semarang by land. All part of the job. For someone who hadn’t gone any further than Bandung in the past four years or so, the last eight months have seen me travel as far as Sydney, which probably isn’t that big of a deal nowadays. So how about Jayapura? Bet that’s not on your tourism wishlist, but I’ve been there. So it’s great that I get to go places I’ve never imagined I’d go.

The ironic thing is that I don’t really like travelling.

Yes, I know. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. But yeah, I’ve never really been the travelling type. The destination’s are usually alright for me, but it’s the preparation and journey itself that’s a drag. Trying to prepare for every eventuality and finding out it’s too much, or bringing too little and stinking like an unwashed sauna for the duration of the trip. People say the actual travelling is more important than reaching the destination. Not I. I’d rather get as much sleep as possible. Green scenery is lovely, but it’s not so lovely that I want to stare at it for hours, though that does help me fall asleep. And in case I wasn’t clear about it the first time, I love sleep.

I should enjoy travelling, though, shouldn’t I? Get out of the usual surroundings, breathe in some air that’s got a lower carbon monoxide count than what I’m accustomed to. I don’t know, I guess I’m just a spoilt city kid, er, adult. Maybe it’s a result of my childhood, in which I’ve been uprooted quite a bit, and I’ve grown accustomed to having someplace permanent and settled. I’m a man of simple needs, so on that note, why shake things up if it’s not absolutely necessary? And it’s never been necessary.

Perhaps I haven’t enjoyed all this travelling I’ve been doing because it’s been something I have to do, not really what I want to do. The Singapore trip? Now that was fantastic, because that was all me. I get paid to travel on these assignments, but getting strung along by someone else’s schedule like some puppet ruins the experience. So far my most enjoyable working trips have been to Sydney and Kuala Lumpur. Maybe it’s not really surprising, as those cities would be more appealing to a spoilt city brat than, say, Jambi. It’s just nice to get away from the lunacy of being in Jakarta. I might even daresay it’s nice to get away from Indonesia, full stop.

But Jakarta, as wretched as it can often get, is still home. And I don’t have a good enough reason to leave home. Yet. Maybe some day I’ll do my small part in helping reduce Indonesia’s population. Since dying or not reproducing is further down on the list, I’ll have to settle for relocation and inflict myself on another nation.

…is how I’m feeling right now. Obviously anything would be a huge letdown after Singapore, which I fully realise, but the past week or so has just been particularly sucky and doesn’t seem like it’s going to let up for about a week or so. It’s hard to pinpoint it on any one cause, it’s more like one of those times where everything seems to pile up on you at once. I think I’m getting cranky from lack of sleep - the new morning departure routine is a necessity, but it’s slowly doing my head in. At the moment work isn’t really enjoyable, so much to do in so little time, with my workload getting increased at a most inopportune time. Deadlines and all that. It’s part of the job and I understand that, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get all pissy about it.

And don’t get me started on the chronic matter of women problems. Ah, screw it, I’ll get started anyway. I’m starting to think that, at the end of the day, for me to stumble upon what (or make that who) I’m looking for is entirely up to fate. In my experience, I have found women I’ve been interested in and made some attempt at winning them over - but I guess if they’re not arsed, then they’re not arsed. Even if I were the nicest, smartest, hottest, richest guy in the world, let alone the average schlub that I am. I’m just tired, I guess - tired of being considered a pathetic joke, if not anonymous. Some people just don’t know what they’ve got in front of them - the same could be said of me. But then it’s back to what I said earlier: it takes two to tango. Perhaps it’s best not to think too hard about it and let whatever happens, happen.

I need a reminder of what makes this all worth it. I’m not yet at the end of my tether, but I’m getting there.

Incidentally, here’s my Friendster horoscope for today:

You should know that you can always rely on your friends for support. Reach out.

Over the years, you’ve become pretty darned skilled at keeping your deepest feelings to yourself. In fact, no matter what it is, if you don’t want anyone to know about it, that’s how it will stay — on your end, at least. There’s something gnawing at you now, though — something you just can’t wait to talk about. Fortunately, you were born with the type of rock solid discretion that’s impenetrable. Good thing, too.

Consider this a reach out.

I’m a regular visitor to Football365.com , but the Great Friday Quiz had never caught my interest until this week. Well, it was last week’s quiz if you want to get technical, but it just goes to show you how I’ve skipped it for all this time. So what made this edition special? The editors thought they’d be cute and make injuries as the theme for this week’s installment. If you watched the recent FA Cup match between Liverpool and Manchester United, then you would’ve seen Alan Smith getting horribly injured, breaking his left leg and dislocating his ankle. In the words of the man himself, "When I looked, the leg was lying one way and my ankle was pointing towards Hong Kong so I knew I was in serious trouble." That, my friends, is an understatement. Fortunately, his operation was a success, and he should be able to return in nine months.

Though to be honest, I wasn’t as shaken up about it when they showed the replays, as compared to when Djibril Cisse broke his leg last year. Maybe it was just the camera angles for Smith’s replays that didn’t convey how bad it was, where you could get an idea of the severity from Ruud Van Nistelrooy’s reaction as he looked away in horror. Cisse, on the other hand…living in the age we are in, you’d think we’d be desensitised to all forms of injury and gore. So far I’ve been fortunate to not have to witness anything traumatic in person, but just looking at Cisse’s lower left leg bend like it was rubber in slow motion was just too much. I still cringe when I think of it.

Speaking of cringing, the quiz quotes MU’s manager, Sir Alex Ferguson, calling Smith’s injury one of the worst he’d ever seen, then it goes on to mention another injury from a few years back that was so severe it drove MU’s keeper at the time, Peter Schmeichel, into therapy. He was the unfortunately, appropriately-named David Busst of Coventry City, whose injury meant that he had to end his footballing career. I had no idea who he was, so being the inquisitive soul that I am, with a PC and an Internet connection to boot, I felt compelled to Google him.

I found what I needed to know. And much more than I really wanted. Pictures, anyone? Click here. Be warned: this is most definitely not for the squeamish. When I opened that page, I wasn’t expecting any pictures. I was in a slight panic when the photo at the top of the page was in the process of loading, so I quickly scrolled down to read the article text. But like those horror movies that make you cover your eyes but end up peeking from between your fingers anyway, I eventually scrolled slowly upward again.

That was two hours ago. My legs still feel numb. I don’t think I can see that picture again. It’s a good thing I didn’t get into med school.

So I left the Jakarta Convention Centre at just after two in the morning, having just seen Kool & The Gang, who came onstage about two hours later than originally scheduled, close the Java Jazz Festival. Even though they look like they’ve collectively spawned an entire village of grandchildren, they were pretty good. And never have I seen a larger spontaneous outbreak of William Hung-style dancing than when they ended their show with "Celebration" and got the crowd going nuts.

Anyway, on the way home I grabbed a bite, and reached the house at three. After closing the garage door, I passed out in the car, and awoke around an hour and a half later. Due to my new departure regime, this left me with half an hour to get ready and leave for the office. So here I am at the office, on the verge of falling asleep again. In fact, I think I will. Toodles!