i saw a lot of death. start at the coffee stall that sold breakfast of dark brown broth in a pan chicken necks yellow tumeric-y skeletons of fish all over rice. only the rice was alive steaming like the garbage dump next to us. the men ate quickly “drink! give me drink!” a man inContinue reading “north of batavia, south of heaven”
Category Archives: Ruminations
angry management
anger is good management the things you want to do become the things you have to do become the things you’re doing now.
what is short, and funny, and bright as a button?
life, you said. HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA! HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA! HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA! HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA!HA! HEH.
Payu
the same old places. narrow alleys cobbled out of chinese gravestones, the nicer, coloured ones cut carefully into narrow steps up into the home, the doors open to let air in into the dark inside, the smell of 4 o’clock, of the sun dribbling a plastic soccer ball into corners and the damp rubbing handsContinue reading “Payu”
Ditch
writing puns for titles, mock-sadness, meta-seriousness, lips puckered up (converted from a rubbish bin), fine golden powder of sand, black tributaries, ice cold water, the roof, the roof, the roof is on fiyah, “jenderal urip sumoharjo bertanggung jawab…,” a (((scream))) in front of goal
Like
the trunks of the sawo trees, the cold black sand, the old burnt palace, the dark pendopo, the watermarked angels and goddesses, the white eyes, a brazier of glowing charcoal, pretty shop attendants, brief obi like an afterthought, you would believe in anything, a lake under the midday sun,
jakarta
is how everywhere you go you see people trying to make a living, people trying to live and you look around them and all you see is death. there, an empty plastic garuda peanuts wrapper glazed in rain water like a bright yellow accidental donut, a broken bicycle wheel with the tyre still on itContinue reading “jakarta”
Speed of Lite
but i stop, my hands clasped tight on the back of a plastic chair, my feet burning criss-cross dunlop pattern into the wet earth, and my mind takes overexposed pictures of a man asleep, or is he dying?, on a kerb with the smell of dead rats and yesterday’s bananas, a girl vomiting just-digested friedContinue reading “Speed of Lite”
Divagyrations 