tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41793730439054935342009-02-21T06:50:15.304-08:00[Response to Magic]Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-58437021298151907582008-04-04T17:23:00.000-07:002008-04-19T05:56:51.661-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Panic at the First Blast.</span><br /><br />I had the first blast<br />of not knowing what to say<br />to You<br /><br />I enjoyed<br />that You<br />are no better than<br />Me<br /><br />There's nothing much to say<br />really<br />but this Me<br />keeps jumping up and down<br />having a blast<br />of looking into you.<br /><br />Panic<br />is staring at Me.<br />Hello.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-5843702129815190758?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-19510979664374940062008-04-02T09:28:00.000-07:002008-04-19T05:57:28.758-07:00The New Job.<span style="font-weight: bold;">The New Job.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R_OcdfCOE3I/AAAAAAAAAK0/dCTKqDuEqzU/s1600-h/DSC00947.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R_OcdfCOE3I/AAAAAAAAAK0/dCTKqDuEqzU/s320/DSC00947.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184659626394522482" border="0" /></a><br />A lot of you, my friends, have been asking me - hows the new job like? At this point of time, this marvellous oil drawing of mine explains it best..<br /><br />In the new job, there're a lot of excitement, hope, interest, challenges, perhaps a serene ending, but not without a confusing and overwhelming start, ghost stories, new faces, new friends, and shadows of imbalanced expectations.<br /><br />Haha - Tu la sapa suruh sms berkilo2... heheh.<br />Whatever it is, as Sarimah cutely puts it (everytime), chai-freaking-yok!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-1951097966437494006?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-74595749196045003752008-03-18T01:14:00.000-07:002008-04-19T05:46:48.781-07:00First Day at School: I've got bangs, bebeh!<span style="font-weight: bold;">First Day at School: I've got bangs, bebeh!</span> <div class="snap_preview"><p>The thing I remember most about my first day at school, darjah 1 at SRK Guru Nanak, was a picture that my father took of me in front of our ghost-laden house on Jalan Abdul Manaf, Ipoh. I was in a dark blue pinnafore, pony-tailed, and worked some serious bangs with even a seriouser look. It was an annoyed look, but cant remember lah what I was annoyed about. Everything was perfect, new.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R99kZ7PzLBI/AAAAAAAAAIo/1aM0cuM1-6g/s1600-h/DSC00856.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R99kZ7PzLBI/AAAAAAAAAIo/1aM0cuM1-6g/s320/DSC00856.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178968493062827026" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">See what I mean? This wasnt the pinafore picture but the look is the same :)<br /></span></div><p>We berjiran with an old couple, which I called Opah and Atok London. They’re known as the London couple because Atok speaks English like a Londoner. Opah, not so much. She wore a true Perak accent that I found amusing, cos Mak & Abah dont speak like that at all. On that day, Atok came out by the side of our shared pagar and commented (something like this la), ” Wah professor hari ni segak la nak pegi sekolah. You must study well okay! Ha ha ha!” (Well, he laughs a lot, this deep, sonorous laugh that’s contagious to his cucu, Abang Manap, and to my Abah too). He made it a habit calling me professor, my adik-adik - Wan:"doctor", Eli: "engineer", and the youngest, A'e : I cant remember, maybe he was too young to be assigned a career, hehe. But as magical as his laugh was, his words are even more. I think I am on my way to become a PhD doctor, Wan just passed his medic exam and is now Dr. Syafwan, Eli works with machines, though not really an engineer, and A'e, currently undecided (baru lepas matrix ni).<br /></p> <p>Abah must have sent me to school on my first day, but after that, I followed Mak to school on foot. It was a 15 minutes walk (one way) and Mak tried to hold my hand when she can cos the roads, though we used jalan taman perumahan a lot, were still visited by speedy cars. My first day to school was also my Mak’s first day to school. She transferred from her school in Tapah to the same school as I was enrolled in. She’s a teacher, you see.</p> <p>I recalled that scene from Harry Potter the first movie, when all new students was selected into the “Houses”. “Griffindor!” the hat shouted. During my time, it was “Yellow!” or “Red!”. I was assigned the yellow house but later cried to my class teacher wanting it to be changed to blue. My friend from kindergarten (perhaps the only one whom continued her journey with me at SRK Guru Nanak) named Syarifah Nurul Akmam was in either yellow or green. But I know there was somebody in the class that got into blue, and I wanted to be with her so bad. This migration from yellow to blue proved to be a disappointing move 6 years down the road, where at the peak of my fame and glory as the senior in Standard 6, Blue House was sucking ass big time. And most obviously yellow won, with all my other cliques members championing it!</p> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-7459574919604500375?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-92187170345364594842008-03-16T01:21:00.000-07:002008-04-19T05:58:12.542-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">His Story: I</span><br /><br />Once I have murmured<br />history along his<br />jaw<br /><br />He's bearing<br />a heavy<br />burden<br />Oblivion and Denial<br />befriended him<br /><br />And I<br />I am unable to be<br />a Satan<br />nor an Angel<br />for him<br />Unable to give birth to<br />Warnings<br />For my deaf and blind<br />lover<br /><br />When foes come<br />from every directions<br />I am already dying<br />murdered<br />by his unfulfilled<br /> Responsibility<br /><br />The history continues<br />Him carrying<br />a heavy burden<br />only to fail<br />by beautiful deceptions</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-9218717034536459484?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-56455876600331963972008-03-13T09:39:00.000-07:002008-04-19T05:50:04.183-07:00Post-election Kota Bharu, Evergreen Kota Bharu<span style="font-weight: bold;">Post-election Kota Bharu, Evergreen Kota Bharu</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9ql77PzK2I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/u5XqCNqknLE/s1600-h/DSC00822.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9ql77PzK2I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/u5XqCNqknLE/s320/DSC00822.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177633170550631266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">My bapak calls this place, "tempat Qur'an"<br /><br /></span></div>What can I say - despite the controversial arguments of my roommate Sarimah against everything Kelantese (except nasi kerabu), I just have to say the state has captured my heart, totally. I have not been in Kelantan for 14 years, and going back to it last week was enough to make me want to live there and blend in the melange of its rich culture.<br /><br />I mentioned to Tanjung about the breathtaking route from Grik to KB, crossing Titiwangsa. Even at the sight of endless pokok kekabu by the roadside made my heart jumped out of excitement. (Some say I'm easily amused too - so, hehe)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9pz7LPzKzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ipqutk4GfqA/s1600-h/DSC00811.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9pz7LPzKzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ipqutk4GfqA/s320/DSC00811.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177578182084340530" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">This was Lenggong, I believe<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9p0TLPzK0I/AAAAAAAAAHA/5t_GTKBUjls/s1600-h/DSC00813.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9p0TLPzK0I/AAAAAAAAAHA/5t_GTKBUjls/s320/DSC00813.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177578594401200962" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">We stopped at R&R Puncak Titiwangsa to enjoy this fantastic view.. and sejukkk la!<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qlfbPzK1I/AAAAAAAAAHI/2Wi6o8FVY_g/s1600-h/DSC00818.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qlfbPzK1I/AAAAAAAAAHI/2Wi6o8FVY_g/s320/DSC00818.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177632680924359506" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">People say, "Di mana bumi dipijak, di situ langit dijunjung"<br /><br /></span></div>The timing can never be any better, I'd say. Post-election in the Bulan state is really an exciting time to be there. People talk about politics all the time, and I hear lengthy stories about the Bulan Party, much about the discontentment of the people too. Some of the arguments why one should vote for Bulan distracted my neurons' activities - like, " You should vote for Bulan because its the easiest way to get your ass into heaven".. Like, what?? Can I kill 100 people now and then vote for Bulan for salvation? Yeah, right.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qmb7PzK3I/AAAAAAAAAHY/Txgd_3DPpCI/s1600-h/DSC00825.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qmb7PzK3I/AAAAAAAAAHY/Txgd_3DPpCI/s320/DSC00825.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177633720306445170" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Political wau motive. Must have gotten subsidy from the party for this effort.<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qm2rPzK4I/AAAAAAAAAHg/JhLEN7QJXsw/s1600-h/DSC00827.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qm2rPzK4I/AAAAAAAAAHg/JhLEN7QJXsw/s320/DSC00827.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177634179867945858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Endless, I'm telling you..<br /><br /></span></div>My mother and I paid a visit to a very interesting family in KB. The father is a PKR dude. The mother, a fierce Dacing supporter, and the sons are all for Bulan. These people are all extremist in their own way, and together, make an amusing, contrasting bind of opinion about Malaysia's politics.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qoZbPzK7I/AAAAAAAAAH4/2prZgZau6ug/s1600-h/DSC00839.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qoZbPzK7I/AAAAAAAAAH4/2prZgZau6ug/s320/DSC00839.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177635876380027826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">If I were a hungry bird, I'd totally hangout here<br /></span></div><br />I was having breakfast with Tanjung at the White House (Bush couldnt make it this time to the coffee session, and we decided to kick Rice out just because) when we came across a Chinese pakcik, who invited us to sit with him. Like any Kelantanese Chinese, this pakcik speaks perfect Kelantanese, with perhaps an unnoticeable chinese accent. We had our arguments on why BN lost and rationalized the gap of expectations of the people against the ruling government.<br /><br />He said, he believed that the more BN controls the media, it is even worse for them because they can't contest the allegations of the opposition parties against them. Yes, I agree totally with this observation. The Opposition sent SMSes containing allegations against the ruling government to millions of Malaysians, and the BN party took it lightly and never replied to those allegations. The best, is to hold open debates on TV so the people will be able to weigh the truth and the reality. Set rules on the debates. No one wants to be seen as a fool on TV, lambasting on senseless matters. So, rather than having one-sided allegations from other contesting parties, answer them intelligently, unless you really have something to hide.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qpSLPzK8I/AAAAAAAAAIA/Qd9rW4d--8I/s1600-h/DSC00838.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qpSLPzK8I/AAAAAAAAAIA/Qd9rW4d--8I/s320/DSC00838.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177636851337604034" border="0" /></a><br />I remember reading from Jeff Ooi's blog on matters upon matters against Koh Tsu Koon, even giving him an opportunity, a deadline, for Koh to defend himself if indeed the accusations are wrong. Not a word from Koh. As a result, increased vote for Jeff.<br /><br />In campaigning for elections, as my old man said, a party must know the people they're addressing. Never make verbal mistake because, thanks to the digital world and YouTube, these kind of mistakes will be haunting you forever. Like in Kelantan for example, everyone knows majority of the Kelantanese-Malay value Islam more than anything else. Having this knowledge, why cant one be careful in sculpting the right way of messaging to appeal to these people? Dont ask, "Who can bring development to this state?" and answer "Us, the BN party!".. but rather, it should be " It is God who permits development in this state, but please allow us to offer our service to execute His plans". This is mere example of messaging that I think BN lacked in the last election.<br /><br />Also when I was in Kelantan, I noticed that the boards that displayed the faces of candidates also featured the Tok Guru Nik Aziz's face next to them. Coupling the two (candidate and main leader) images in my opinion, simplify the choice for the people. If the people dont know the candidate, they will be reminded of the leader, automatically locking in votes. In addition to that, the names of the candidates were displayed as " Kak Ani" and "Cikgu Rahim", suggesting familiarity of the candidate with their people. The idea is to put familiar face to contest in specific counties.<br /><br />These are small matters, I agree. There are a lot more bigger things that you might consider to explain the current loss of BN. However, when it comes down to reaching out to the people, only these small matters matter. If we're talking about getting every single vote for us, then every single detail must be reckoned with.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qnarPzK5I/AAAAAAAAAHo/86POpGIFfLw/s1600-h/DSC00829.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qnarPzK5I/AAAAAAAAAHo/86POpGIFfLw/s320/DSC00829.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177634798343236498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Serving us twice for breakfast<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qn-bPzK6I/AAAAAAAAAHw/J4oz4LlvtEM/s1600-h/DSC00836.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qn-bPzK6I/AAAAAAAAAHw/J4oz4LlvtEM/s320/DSC00836.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177635412523559842" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Biasalah, sesi jual minyak magic<br /></span></div><br />All in all, I left Kota Bharu in contentment. I shall remember my little dates with Tanjung around the town, Nasi Ulam Cikgu, all the beautiful places I have seen, the polite and nice Kelantanese, the crazy driving style of the people too -"Tubik ikuk suka!", and this little fella I found in Machang:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qrObPzLAI/AAAAAAAAAIg/NsAcpYl6ubI/s1600-h/DSC00848.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qrObPzLAI/AAAAAAAAAIg/NsAcpYl6ubI/s320/DSC00848.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177638985936350210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Felt like I was in biblical times</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qpw7PzK9I/AAAAAAAAAII/EPXPk_xRkOY/s1600-h/DSC00842.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qpw7PzK9I/AAAAAAAAAII/EPXPk_xRkOY/s320/DSC00842.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177637379618581458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Featuring: Accidental picture of pakcik beca</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qqTLPzK-I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/6tJR4iVP4Tc/s1600-h/DSC00846.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qqTLPzK-I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/6tJR4iVP4Tc/s320/DSC00846.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177637968029101026" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I have no idea what the name of this thing is.. but it's actually super overcooked corn with coconut & sugar. Awesome blossom ni!<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qqo7PzK_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/WKYOUelvL1c/s1600-h/DSC00847.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9qqo7PzK_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/WKYOUelvL1c/s320/DSC00847.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177638341691255794" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The revered kuih akok. Not impressive to me personally.<br /></span></div><br />Next, I will try to write on the aftermath of the election. The winners move on. The kerajaan campuran seems to fail to work together, the Sultans are using their power, and of the Malays Penangites, who are poorly managed by the DAP govt in Penang.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-5645587660033196397?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-20917960653133954612008-03-09T04:19:00.000-07:002008-04-19T05:51:05.914-07:00I Voted.<span style="font-weight: bold;">I Voted.</span><br /><br />My first experience voting is something that I will remember my whole life. I walked to the polling station, holding a really big umbrella that invoked giggles and tease of the pakcik-pakcik, who were holding kopi session by the roadside. The sky was rather dark, and I kept feeling the rectangular shape of my identity card in the back pocket, fearing I might have forgotten it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9O2-LPzKvI/AAAAAAAAAGY/abZ1ucul6o4/s1600-h/DSC00802.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9O2-LPzKvI/AAAAAAAAAGY/abZ1ucul6o4/s320/DSC00802.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175681576066034418" border="0" /></a><blockquote style="font-style: italic;">As I stepped out of my gate, this is what I see. The polling station was located at the end of this road, on the left.</blockquote><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9O4NLPzKwI/AAAAAAAAAGg/6V4ZzRCLSwg/s1600-h/DSC00805.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9O4NLPzKwI/AAAAAAAAAGg/6V4ZzRCLSwg/s320/DSC00805.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175682933275699970" border="0" /></a><blockquote style="font-style: italic;">I accidently took this picture. See the sky? It was pregnant with water. Just about to rain.</blockquote></div>I love voting. I will vote as long as there's breath in me, and as long as the country is not yet drowned à cause de global warming. The fact that my vote counts and does make a difference is empowering. If you're the kind of person who couldn't care less about the "politics" of this country, I implore you to just try it once. It's nice to be an adult and vote.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9O5FbPzKxI/AAAAAAAAAGo/y1IUOFX5Kcw/s1600-h/DSC00806.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9O5FbPzKxI/AAAAAAAAAGo/y1IUOFX5Kcw/s320/DSC00806.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175683899643341586" border="0" /></a><blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;">This is our Dewan Orang Ramai, comfortably taken by the BN as a strategic venue to place Puteri-Puteri UMNO, may I add, very cute ones, at the table. See that pink shirt? What you can't see is the PAS booth right across the road, modelling their best breed of young men, also, able to melt those Puteris' hearts. These two, according to my Abah, were bickering dengan manja sekali at each other that morning, when all the elderlies were not there (all went to vote first thing in the morning). Comel nye rasa nak picit-picit pipi tu! Pinang karang! Aww!</span><br /></blockquote></div>My father was joking about how he is a Saluran 2 man, not yet Saluran 1. Konon muda lagi la .. You know these polling booths are divided into saluran-saluran, which corresponds to age. 5 is for new/young voters ( that's me, heh), 2 and 1 are for the "pencen dudes", and the sages of the country, and everyone else is somewhere in the middle.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9O6QrPzKyI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Em7sxGOJcyU/s1600-h/DSC00807.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R9O6QrPzKyI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Em7sxGOJcyU/s320/DSC00807.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175685192428497698" border="0" /></a><blockquote style="font-style: italic;">Yes, this is the tempat keramat, completely ready with the yellow SPR/CSI tape around. I voted in one of those rooms behind the blue sign.</blockquote></div><br />Iklan jap, Oi Carimah, nasib la u vote untuk Pelangai ni, kalo tak buang karen I je register untuk u.. bagus! Hot girls who vote are even TSSSSSS!<br /><br />Also a shout out to Sangeetha, whose patriotism rooted from my registering her to be a voter this year, and she fulfilled that duty! You so good la Geetha! I'm proud of you!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The result.</span><br /><br />This is the most interesting part, of course. For the first time in the country's history, the ever ruling party is suffering from considerable loss of seats all across the country. Both DUN and parliament seats were heavily contested and won over by the opposition parties. Although, the majority still sided with Barisan Nasional, winning them yet another term to hold the Federal Govt.<br /><br />Though the technicalities of the result is not my expertise, as a citizen, I am relieved to know that democracy in this country is still capable of bringing about change, and that my right is not rigged by a corrupted system, as experienced in some countries in Africa, and Latin America. Even America's voting system is unbelievably fishy to me.<br /><br />The result is surprising - 5 states go to the opposition, and the rest remains under Barisan Nasional. I for one, never thought this wave would materialized this soon. Perhaps I haven't been watching YouTube as much as I should have, eh?<br /><br />So Amy asked me, what does this mean for our day-to-day life? Will anything change? I said, perhaps we will not personally experience this change anytime soon. But slowly, the changes will reveal themselves. Those lucky/deserving winners will work hard, if they understand their role well enough, and if they can foresee their fate if they fcuk up things in their kawasan.<br /><br />This is the end of "taking things for granted" era. Many have learned their lesson, and gained more reasons to be true to the meaning of "service for the people". And this kind of change, is absolutely most welcome.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-2091796065313395461?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-66187297349680187072008-03-06T13:10:00.000-08:002008-04-19T05:58:49.303-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">War.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />I am embarrased<br />at the thought of war<br />the intention of war<br />let alone<br />battling you<br /><br />It came down<br />to you and<br />me<br />to rumble<br />in that dirt<br /><br />brandishing our swords<br />killing light in our eyes<br />only to find<br />we replace each other<br /><br />I am embarassed<br />at your nerve<br />to pull me into this<br />end<br /><br />We're in too deep<br />what are we<br />waiting for?<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-6618729734968018707?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-75613724243876594952008-03-02T01:39:00.000-08:002008-04-19T05:52:45.024-07:00This is how I vote.<span style="font-weight: bold;">This is how I vote.</span><br /><br />While eating my mother's rendang today, I mentioned to her:<br /><br /><blockquote style="font-style: italic;">"Mak, Su bersyukur sangat dilahirkan kat Malaysia ni. Dapat makan rendang yang sangat best. Kot2 lahir kat Philippines ke kan tak merasa rendang Mak ni?"</blockquote><br />And how my mother laughed at that. I meant more than just the rendang, and I am sure my mother got what I meant.<br /><br />So the election is coming up real soon. In spite of puke-invoking manipulation of media by the ever-ruling party, all else is good. I love the election for the energy that it contains, and the colours that it brings to my kampung. Blue, white, green, red, although my eyes would be happier with more red actually. No, not inclined towards any party but I simply like red.<br /><br />Seeing all this happening around me, it makes me smile. I love this country for all the good and not so good things that be its characters. I love the optimism that I have for the future of this country, even if you might disagree and accuse me of naïveté. Perhaps I am, but I like that part of me too.<br /><br />In the radio, especially the government radios we hear commentaries and songs inviting people to exercise their rights/responsibility to vote. It is said that this country is seeing the growing numbers of young voters, who are educated and know what they want from the wakil rakyat. I dont know about the statistics, but I'd like to think that I am one of them. Yes, our vote shall remain a secret, but I insist to explore how will I vote to make it worth a million to the people that are affected by it.<br /><br />I believe there are a lot of young voters like me out there, who are not particularly nor blindly pledging allegiance to a certain party. We're novice in this game, thus we tend to be observers rather than the talkers. But we are allergic to bullshits and are quite good to spot one if presented to us. So if you are a calon wakil rakyat thinking that you can use that basi lines on people like me, excuse me for I have to sneeze.<br /><br />What I am looking for in the person that I will vote for is a good track record - if he/she had been wakil rakyat before, leadership qualities, ability to keep the majority of the people's confidence in him/her, and last but never least, good values.<br /><br />Track record is simple, have I heard of his/her name before? Where and when has he or she been seen before in the territory that is supposed to diwakilkan? Sekali sekala during some perasmian? School sports day? Is that him riding the motorcycle saying hi to Pak Asrap? Someone important in the kampung died, is he or his wakil there giving condolences? That smelly paya polluted by bad sistem pembetungan, has it been fixed? Where is he? Where is she all these while? It is indeed simple. You just have to be there, or send someone to represent you. If you are not, you're not worth it.<br /><br />Leadership qualities is also a very simple demand, if I may add. I humbly appreciate an intelligent person who knows the right things to say and do at the right time. Perfection is not what I am looking for. As a wakil rakyat, if you try hard enough, the rakyat can definitely see it, and we'll be glad.<br /><br />I feel like values are always being undermined in a campaign. Calon wakil rakyat are too busy telling us voters what he/she can do for us even though we know that 50% of what is being said will end up as mere lip service. I want to know what you believe in, what is important to you? Are you a family man? Are you an ambitious businessman? What drives you? What motivates you? How do you work? It is affirmative that I want to get personal with my wakil rakyat, if you know what I mean, heh.<br /><br />Men and women with tainted values will turn me off. Like seriously, I'm moving on with the next candidate as instantly as a Maggi mee. 2 mins? =) If recently you're being a smart ass and was caught khalwat with a woman and forced to marry that woman when you already have a wife at home, even more if your even smarter wife is filing for a divorce in court on the eve of the parliament disbandment, you're screwed. I know personal life has nothing to do with people's ability to excel in their job. But it gives me a feeling you're distracted, that you'll be spending a lot of time being an old, nasty, ulat bulu rather than doing your job so please, no heart feelings eh? And plus, as an experienced politician I had hoped that you would have learned from other people's mistakes, and clearly see how us Malaysians can hardly cope with malu. Don't make me malu to call you my representative. That's all there is to it.<br /><br />I think it is really very hard to be a wakil rakyat. Literally, as a wakil you have to service the people. You are bound to sacrifice a lot of things. Although not many wakil rakyat understand the essence of their job, at least present yourself as a good candidate for people like me to vote. I'd hate for my intelligence to be insulted with foolish campaigns and even more foolish people. So gather up, and take on the challenge. Ada 1 minggu lagi beb..<br /><br />To all new candidates, you might lack track records, but by all means if you confidently show your true potentials, you're on!<br /><br />p/s: I'm gonna go and listen to all rapat umums involving the calon-calon yang bertanding at my place. I'll...be...watching!... (Robert de Niro to Ben Stiller style in Meet the Parents)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-7561372424387659495?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-7727160238940935152008-03-01T09:27:00.000-08:002008-04-19T05:59:21.925-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Venezuela</span>.<br /><br />I have been roaming the<br />World<br />and you<br />have my eyes fixed forever<br /><br />I implore you to lay your<br />Earth for me<br />This savage almost died<br />of rapture<br /><br />Let me dig every inch of<br />You<br />I shall taste your soil<br />Rain myself with your tears<br />and gladly be imprisoned<br />for years to come<br /><br />Let me adorn your curves<br />with treasure<br />and shower your needs with deeds<br /><br />Remember, my Venezuela<br />Even when you bury me deep<br />My love<br />Fulfilled<br />You.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-772716023894093515?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-68062480272944963582008-02-29T09:36:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:01:55.606-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">You Make Me Crazy.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">You are<br />cocky<br />arrogant<br />an asshole<br />unbelievable.<br /><br />But I<br />dig<br />You<br /><br />Truly<br />Deeply<br />Faithfully<br /><br />I must be mad.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-6806248027294496358?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-8741590609615963972008-02-28T03:43:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:05:13.628-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Welcome.</span><br /><br />Privilege<br />is living<br />without having experienced<br />life<br />taken forcefully from you<br /><br />Luck<br />is being born<br />in a family<br />no matter how<br />dysfunctional<br />it could have been an alley<br />you see<br /><br />Grace<br />is being fed<br />with education<br />that distinguished<br />you from<br />the rest<br /><br />Peace<br />shall never be understood<br />by people living in peace<br />if only they know<br />They will rather die<br />than talking unpeaceful<br />things.<br /><br />Salam to all the people<br />who have never had privilege<br />luck<br />grace<br />nor peace<br />Welcome to my house.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-874159060961596397?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-23640351650314323742008-02-28T02:56:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:07:51.279-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Down the Memory Lane.</span><br /><br />There is one thing that I regret the most in this world. I had once behaved like a vain, self-absorbed bitch that I am certain costs me a friend. I didnt mean how I behaved, but one day someone else did the same to me, and I feel like slapping that person out of her pretense.<br /><br />Whoa. Shoulda slapped my pretty little face first.<br /><br />I had a friend. She used to be my everything. We share small things and big things and supported each other through our little asrama-life and it was fun. She was fun, beautiful, and real.<br /><br />We'd be laughing like madwomen till 2 am on weekends, and eat maggi with cool water and would later be punished by wardens to sit by the fence, cold, in whatever shorts/ scissored t shirts that we were wearing. We'd be wondering together whether our prayers were accepted cos we do a lotta "jahat" things, which are not really jahat I dont think so.. Okay, maybe we hug our boyfriends, so what? hehe.. its not like theres no sluttier gals around that might have slept around.. :-) Uu...<br /><br />But one day, after about 8 years separated from each other, I met her. My regrettable inability to say no to another friend who also asked me out had led us to go out together, all three of us.<br /><br />And at that moment, I was someone else. Let me tell you whom I pretended to be. I was this tak sedar diri bitch who spoke with a freaking accent and talk about things like man,.. like I had a PhD on every matter! This friend never wants to do anything with me after that memorable meeting.<br /><br />Who was that? I didnt like that girl at all.<br /><br />My point of writing this is to get it out of my system.<br />So I won't do it ever again.<br />So that if she reads this (I doubt it), she'd have the heart to forgive me. (Yeah, she can slap me too if she likes).<br />So that I remember how much I dont like being pretentious. It's killing me.<br />So Sarimah can learn a thing or two about life.. hehee.. no lah, she's way too real to be pretentious.. She's like kurang upaya or something in terms of being pretentious. Simply not able to pretend like a bitch.<br /><br />Cos maybe she already is.<br />Haha.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-2364035165031432374?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-87316250847769852502008-02-24T12:00:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:08:44.711-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Arson.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />One morning<br />I woke up<br />and smell<br />Smoke.<br /><br />From the west it<br />passed my bedroom<br />window<br />Warning<br /><br />Thus I<br />started building a bridge<br />that connects the<br />West<br />to the rest<br /><br />The last nail hammered<br />and I saw hundreds<br />Villagers<br />running<br />towards me<br />from the West<br /><br />In fear they<br />ran and<br />tramped over me<br /><br />I died<br />building a bridge<br />that saved them<br />from oppression<br />violence<br />and fruit of corruption<br /><br />How I never regret<br />the morning<br />I smelled<br />My<br />Purpose.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-8731625084776985250?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-22827592344978541292008-02-17T21:29:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:09:32.045-07:00Excitement I was compelled to share.<span style="font-weight: bold;">Excitement I was compelled to share.</span><br /><br />When your friend is super excited about her wedding, you gotta be super duper magnanimously more excited than her. It's called bitch-support. If she calls you using the department store's phone asking for opinion on THE wedding fabric that in the end she won't give a damn about, you just go and give the damn advice anyway, and eat that ice-cream.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7j_J_2l7BI/AAAAAAAAAFw/r1C6HwAD9A8/s1600-h/DSC00678.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7j_J_2l7BI/AAAAAAAAAFw/r1C6HwAD9A8/s320/DSC00678.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168161119631961106" border="0" /></a>Aktiviti membalut.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7j_3P2l7CI/AAAAAAAAAF4/YsWR5UcGwS8/s1600-h/DSC00682.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7j_3P2l7CI/AAAAAAAAAF4/YsWR5UcGwS8/s320/DSC00682.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168161897021041698" border="0" /></a>"Petunang I tinggi ni la lebih kurang"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7kBTv2l7DI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Zg44XetxDWo/s1600-h/DSC00685.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7kBTv2l7DI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Zg44XetxDWo/s320/DSC00685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168163486158941234" border="0" /></a>"Beb, make sure fabric tu tak slippery, kot2 la you nak main lompat2 ngan Syah nanti.." I said<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7kEHP2l7FI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/fmihV5cU2jk/s1600-h/DSC00690.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7kEHP2l7FI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/fmihV5cU2jk/s320/DSC00690.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168166569945459794" border="0" /></a>Oi tengok apa tu??!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7kCKP2l7EI/AAAAAAAAAGI/xd7EF-GeKwQ/s1600-h/DSC00691.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_GPA0wTrMvD8/R7kCKP2l7EI/AAAAAAAAAGI/xd7EF-GeKwQ/s320/DSC00691.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168164422461811778" border="0" /></a>If she looks like this, just imagine my face in an effort to bitch-support..<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Heh, I am really happy lah for you perempuan! Kawinlah you beria-ria.. yeargh!<br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-2282759234497854129?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-16229604591047396822008-02-14T13:07:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:11:59.611-07:00Français Comme Je l'ai Connu.<span style="font-weight: bold;">Français Comme Je l'ai Connu.</span><br /><br />Eh bien, le moment que vous lisez cet <span style="font-style: italic;">entry</span>, vous voyez que mon français n'est pas parfait. Alors, c'est bien naturel à cause de ne me pas l'utiliser depuis trois années. Mais, récemment, quel qu'un m'appeler pour un intervue et a demandé que je présente un petit recourse en français pour 2 minutes. Comme un <span style="font-style: italic;">speech</span>, si vous voulez.<br /><br />Je suis pas nerveuse, parce que on peut <span style="font-style: italic;">auta karek</span> avec français orale et personne le réalisera. Et c'est plus fun aussi parce que <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >SARIMAH</span> ne vas pas comprendre ce que je dis et vas penser que ça c'est un <span>grand</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> entry</span> qui se discuter à propos d'elle. Quelle joie de vivre!<br /><br />Il est bien un majeure <span style="font-style: italic;">challenge </span>d'écrire ça petite histoire, pourriez-vous imaginer de parler à propos des rélations internationales au public? Je dois mentionner comment la séparation the Nicolas Sarkozy de sa femme effecter la politique française.. et aussi peut être de Pak Lah avec sa nouvelle femme, Jean Abdullah? Très scandaleux, je vous dis.<br /><br />Non, mes amis.. Il faut discuter probablement des sujets comme désarmament, la réforme de l'ONU, ou bien le sujet que je déteste de tout mon coeur, l'ASEAN.<br /><br />Il sera un <span style="font-style: italic;">task</span> dûr pour moi.. En plus avec le français qui ne peut pas m'installer au moins à la porte de l'ONU. Mais ce que j'ai, c'est de la <span style="font-style: italic;">faith, </span>beaucoup d'elle. On verra!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-1622960459104739682?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-11273489490866877932008-02-14T01:00:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:12:50.635-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">V-Day Treat.</span><br /><br />Been writing more poems nowadays. Perhaps cos it's shorter, though not necessarily simpler. Not that I dont have time - I'm on an indefinite vacation and Lord knows how much time I have to waste/fill.<br /><br />Whatever.<br />Here goes another.<br />V-day, remember?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Conversation.</span><br /><br />The lover in you<br />is talking<br />to the lover in me<br /><br />"Have we known each other?"<br />"You taste familiar"<br />"I am sick with passion,<br />lend me a cure"<br />"Why are we imprisoned?"<br />"Why can't we see each other?"<br />"Touch me"<br /><br />The lover in you<br />is talking<br />to the lover in me<br /><br />And we are sitting here<br />drinking coffee by the moonlight<br />Symphatizing<br />with the agony<br />Of the blind lovers'<br />Conversation.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-1127348949086687793?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-15560590591562735742008-02-13T01:50:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:13:49.257-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Hole in Your Shirt.</span><br /><br />There's a hole in your<br />Shirt<br />which I sneaked in<br />to look for<br />You<br /><br />I have returned<br />from that venture<br />Exhausted<br />for having lost<br />Myself<br />in<br />You<br /><br />There's a hole in your<br />Shirt<br />It was enough<br />for a hundred years<br />of<br />Remembrance.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-1556059059156273574?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-32428028512981753492008-02-12T10:40:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:14:24.833-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">On the line.</span><br /><br />Have you found my heart?<br />Because you are the only one<br />Who trespassed<br />into my<br />Realm<br /><br />This is the line<br />and your feet remain<br />on it.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-3242802851298175349?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-16672684851296514102008-02-11T00:33:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:15:15.738-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Masakan Baru.</span><br /><br />Berapa lama<br />Masa<br />yang akan kita ambil<br />untuk<br />Mencernakan<br />Huruf-huruf yang menyebut<br /><br />M-E-L-A-Y-U<br />C-I-N-A<br />I-N-D-I-A<br />J-A-W-A<br />B-E-N-G-A-L-I<br />I-B-A-N<br />K-A-D-A-Z-A-N<br />A-S-L-I<br />B-A-J-A-U<br /><br />Masakkanlah huruf-huruf itu<br />menjadi suatu hidangan yang baru<br />mungkin bunyinya<br /><br />BA-BAN-LA-LI-WA-CI-DI-AS-LI-ZAN-IN-JAU-DA-BEN-KA-NA-ME-JA-I-GA-A-YU<br /><br />Lagukan kesemuanya sekali!<br />Rasailah nikmat harmoni rasa itu<br />Aku yakin<br />setiap ciri bahannya akan masih mampu<br />kau nilaikan satu persatu<br /><br />Tapi yang lebih penting<br />Haruslah<br />yang baru itu dicari maknanya yang baru<br />ditolak-tolakkanlah sifat benci<br />dipanggil-pangilkanlah muafakat!<br /><br />Kerna sesuatu yang indah<br />umpama Malaysia itu<br />Bukankah hasil tangan semua?<br />Lalu usah biarkan<br />Fikiran rosak membunuh<br />kecantikannya.<br /><br />Ayuhlah!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-1667268485129651410?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-37577671309584929502008-02-10T00:07:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:16:53.819-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Of Singledom, Freedom, and Papedom..</span><br /><br />No matter how cool I look in my 20-ringgit-Paris Hilton-style-big ass-shade, I'd pretend to be cooler than that when the matter pops up (time and again and time and again).<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Mak ni, tengok orang sana sini bermenantu, teringin jugak nak buat kenduri kat rumah ni"</span><br /><br />Hell.<br /><br />Killer sentence follows,<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Mak pun dah sakit-sakit, tak tau la lama lagi ke tak nak jadi mak enkorang ni"</span><br /><br />The implication is clear. I better get my ass on the pelamin soon, or she'll do something crazy to make me do it.<br /><br />See, I'm 25. Not 35. And y'all 25-yr-old boys and girls are making me look 5 years older than I am by merely sending your wedding cards to my home (where my mother lives). Stop, for Heaven's sake. I'd appreciate sms invitation or email or some technologically advanced methods like Friendster or Facebook!<br /><br />But you know, we (the yet-to-be-married hot ladies) can't be running away or sulking our hearts out when our mothers, aunts and grandmas do this to us, or if you have a friend like Sarimah who would still send that damn card to your home regardless. Ladies, UNITE! We've to reason, explain, and share what we plan to do in life so they'll see that while we want to have our own family one day, we're at the moment consumed with our worldly affairs and lust.<br /><br />More than 5 of my girlfriends have had problems whereby their boyfriends are not approved by the Lord of the Darjat Rings reigning their family. Some ladies I talked to are hungry for money than the other word with the same sound but different spelling. Some others terbalik, but have no intention to get married. While that is scary shit (I still love you beb, u know who you are), there are other cases where you find your lady friends hooking up with their true love, who happens to consume his marriage every night and yet vilifies their wives so that their girlfriends pity them.<br /><br />Then weirder ideas came into being like,<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Syu, aku rasa aku nak anak bf aku, even tho dia tak kawin ngan aku sebab bini dia tu garang. Ko rasa bayi tabung uji okay tk?"</span><br /><br />Kill me now, I still dont know if bayi tabung uji can take the male donor's name or not.<br /><br />My point is, when the time comes, it'll come. People are already messed up as they are and I have no intention to just masuk line sana sini for the sake of a marriage. Sometimes I just cant quite understand how things are so simplified by the older generations as if we're cats and don't really care who that we're marrying. Sometimes I think that people like me are just shunning it off for fear of losing our freedom.<br /><br />I wish mothers see marriage as a papedom in a full course meal at a mamak place; it sure adds up the taste of that fiery melange of curry and nasi beriyani, and I will want its supply to last as long as the beriyani remains in my plate, but it will never be the center of my attention, at least not for now.<br /><br />May the Eye of Mommy-Sauron be fixed on my brothers! God-speed!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-3757767130958492950?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-63091287570501265522008-02-09T10:47:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:17:47.521-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Be with Me.</span><br /><br />When I learn<br />about humanity<br />Outside the house<br />Father,<br />I intend to keep it.<br /><br />I will be called naiive<br />I will be plastered with disdain and filth<br />I might die drowning<br />in the middle of chaos<br />But you can never save me<br />from my oath for<br />Peace<br /><br />All the more<br />I am in need of you<br />My true<br />Hero<br />So change, Father<br />if unable,<br />I beg you to pray for me<br /><br />I learned what humanity is<br />It is devoid of a form<br />It is everywhere<br />Every single place<br />that God touched with<br />His Compassion.<br /><br />So I shall be<br />what I intend to be<br />With<br />or<br />without<br />You<br />My Father.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-6309128757050126552?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-8137599089518336582008-02-08T00:35:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:18:35.063-07:00<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Third Party-Goer.</span><br /><br />We are capturing<br />each other<br />with our<br />Eyes.<br /><br />Words that come<br />out from hiding<br />have always<br />been<br />There.<br /><br />Say it, friend<br />when truth is dancing<br />between us<br />Who leaped with<br />Joy<br />the most?<br /><br />Let me hold<br />your hand<br />in this Threesome<br />meeting<br />Who is that holding<br />the other?<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-813759908951833658?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-89058867048783562062008-02-07T00:06:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:19:18.934-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Hafiz.</span><br /><br />I am currently reading Hafiz, the sufi from Persia. His poems affected me like no other. Even sometimes comparable to that of Rumi. Or, even better.<br /><br />He is such a bold writer, true to his convinction, and rather playful - which makes it more fun reading him. I will reproduce here my favourite poem of his:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Sun Never Says.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span>Even<br />After<br />All this time<br />The sun never says to the earth<br /><br />"You owe<br />Me."<br /><br />Look<br />What happens<br />With a love like that,<br />It lights the<br />Whole<br />Sky.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-8905886704878356206?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-13147841615182630012008-02-06T08:54:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:20:10.777-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">From Ipoh to Ipanema.</span><br /><br />7am<br />She strolled down the isle<br />Her gaze never ahead<br />To the left<br />to the right<br />I watch her intently<br />her lips twitching<br />and her hand reddened from weight<br />of fruits and vegetables<br /><br />7:05am<br />She stopped by<br />like her eyelashes<br />we never meet<br />not even in the thinnest of time<br />parted by north and south<br /><br />7:07am<br />She passed by<br />leaving me<br />singing the bossa nova of Ipanema<br />comparing the melancholic move of the servant girl<br />I met in Ipoh<br />Filling time with space<br />and space with her.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-1314784161518263001?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179373043905493534.post-84784907561508673872008-02-04T09:28:00.000-08:002008-04-19T06:21:33.040-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">I want to be.</span><br /><br />I want to be a tree<br />that continues to grow<br />leaf by leaf<br />every single day<br /><br />This tree<br />because the leaves<br />put so much weight<br />the trunk shrinks<br />pulling it down<br />closer, and closer to<br />earth<br /><br />when it dies<br />it dies green<br />and so close to earth<br />there will be no need<br />for a burial<br /><br />I'm home<br />to the Maker<br />fulfilling purpose<br />that He made me see.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4179373043905493534-8478490756150867387?l=syuadnan.blogspot.com'/></div>Евгений Гребенниковnoreply@blogger.com