it’s night. and i’m listening to the magnetic fields’ 69 love songs vol. 2. there’s a mysterious body of water on the road in front of pasar cipulir. is it an oil spill? or jeremy thomas’ hair?
not much traffic on cileduk raya. the formula goes (commuting, going home): 5-7, better stay at plaza senayan, gawk at sasaked hair the shape and size of giant beehives. or the standard beehives of giant ronnie spectors. 7.30-9, kinda like the ticket line at a megadeth original-member reunion concert: we are so old, but it’s moving. 9-10, that’s when the mbak-mbak plaza senayan kiss the hands they feed (ie, husbands/boyfriends/random first, second, third cousins waiting on their motorbikes outside) and cruise along the 10 or so kms from hang lekir to pos/lurah/caplin/etc at the speed of light (if light was a snail).
tonight, i’m going post-10. in an express taxi. with a crazy driver who rants about female busway drivers who «obviously have poor eyesights and are unfit.» i’m gonna give him a 5000 tip. pray that he’ll spend it on a pre-loved copy of jurnal perempuan. yeah left.
post-rain, cileduk raya looks beautiful, beatific. where’s the pope? we want canonization, now!
and if you wonder about the missing 30 minutes after 7, then obviously you don’t know how much hair product goes on jeremy thomas’ hair. that thing is like a black hole for brisk’s entire product line. you think time can escape it?
Divagyrations 