Feel the love out there on the ice, far away silver thoughts; nobody lost, nobody found eternity one night only.

All the girls I know are dying of love and lack thereof or excess of, for lips that twitch at the end of a runway are the same lips that switch codes for the benefit of men, the kinds of which we’ve seen many times before but not this time: at the end of a runway, with all the spotlights shattering in unison. ‘Nothing prêt-à-porter about life at the office of hearts, dearie One,’ exclaimed La Diavola, her petticoat of simple flaming reds the butt of jokes around the cubicles of section 01. Wu-uuu-u. One thing, that I just can’t conceive, is how I just let you go on and on about 50 different permutations of happiness ever after; the world ipso facto, post-factum. Alea jacta est. When the frog kisses the prince, cherry-blossoms whither on stems as white as a peranakan girl’s buttocks. Not for nothing the Revlon red of your lips is now a washed-out pink on the rims of wine goblets. O, don’t you wish you had a river you could skate away on? I will draw bear footprints on its surface with my breath, the tip of my nose catching the cold reflection of my face. Always pressured to the ground, never from the same height. Always, already an all-night fair on the inside of your skull. Imagine that. Imagine all the people. Cotton candy in your hair. A button coming off the inside of your sleeves. A rush for the automatic vending machine dispensing emptiness into the sweaty hands of man-children. The worst sort there is. There’s one, hi-fiving dead air into submission on the other side of the street. An unwaxed surfboard in his left armpit. Imagine that. Imagine all the friction.

 

Nobody Lost, Nobody Found Eternity One Night Only

always pressured to the ground
never from the same height
always already an all-night fair
on the inside of your skull
imagine that. imagine all the people.

cotton candy in your hair
a button coming off the inside of your sleeves
a rush for the automatic vending machine
dispensing emptiness
into the sweaty hands of man-

children. the worst sort there is
there’s one, hi-fiving dead air
into submission on the other side
of the street. an unwaxed surfboard
in his armpits. imagine that. imagine all the friction.

 

Far Away Silver Thoughts

one thing that i just can’t conceive is
how i just let you go on and on
about 50 different permutations
of happiness ever after; the world
ipso facto, post-factum. alea jacta est.

when the frog kisses the prince
cherry-blossoms whither on stems
as white as a peranakan girl’s buttocks
not for nothing the revlon red of your lips
is now a washed-out pink on the rims of wine goblets.

o don’t you wish you had a river
you could skate away on? i will
draw bear footprints on its surface
with my breath, the tip of my nose
catching the cold reflection of my face.

 

Feel The Love Out There On The Ice

all the girls i know are dyin’
of love and lack thereof
or excess of for lips that twitch
at the end of a runway are
the same lips that switch

codes for the benefit of men
the kinds of which we’ve seen
many times before but not this
time at the end of a runway
with all the spotlights shattering in unison

‘nothin prêt-à-porter about life
at the office of hearts, dearie One,’
exclaimed la diavola, her petticoat of
simple flaming reds the butt
of jokes around the cubicles of section 01. wu-uuu-u.

 

Komisi Penyiaran Indonesia juga melarang Pelawak Tidak Lucu, Orang Gembrot, Cewek Jelek, Cewek Jelek dan Gembrot, Orang Cebol, Gadis O’on Bersuara Melengking Seperti Habis Menghisap Helium, Orang Bego, Orang Berkumis Hitler, Anak Kecil Yang Berlagak Seperti Dewasa/Tidak Jelas Apakah Dia Masih Kecil Atau Sudah Tua Tapi Kebetulan Orang Cebol, Eko Patrio

JAKARTA. Setelah ‘meminta kepada seluruh stasiun televisi’ untuk tidak lagi menayangkan acara yang ‘kebanci-bancian’ pada 1 September lalu, kali ini Komisi Penyiaran Indonesia Pusat mengeluarkan anjuran baru yang kembali meminta (karena tidak punya kekuatan hukum untuk melarang, tapi yakin akan kekuatan moral mereka) seluruh stasiun televisi untuk berhenti menayangkan dan mengeksploitasi program yang berisikan individu-indibidu di bawah ini:

1. Pelawak Tidak Lucu
2. Orang Gembrot
3. Cewek Jelek
4. Cewek Jelek dan Gembrot
5. Orang Cebol
6. Gadis O’on Bersuara Melengking Seperti Habis Menghisap Helium
7. Orang Bego
8. Orang Berkumis Hitler
9. Anak Kecil Yang Berlagak Seperti Dewasa/Tidak Jelas Apakah Dia Masih Kecil Atau Sudah Tua Tapi Kebetulan Orang Cebol
10. Eko Patrio

Seperti dijelaskan di anjuran mereka sebelumnya tentang penamatan karir Ivan Gunawan, Olga Syahputra, Ruben, Tessy, dkk. KPI kali ini sekali lagi menyebutkan alasan bahwa individu-individu tersebut di atas berpotensi menyebabkan Identity Disorder terutama di kalangan anak-anak.

‘Banyak penonton yang mengeluh bahwa anak mereka sering bertanya, kenapa orang tertawa menonton Ulfa padahal dia tidak lucu, suaranya hanya 50 desibel lebih keras daripada orang normal, kenapa dia disebut pelawak, Papa?’ ujar Psikolog dari Yayasan KITA dan Buah Hati Rani Noe’man, Psi, yang juga diminta oleh KPI pendapatnya tentang dandanan Ivan Gunawan yang makin lama makin madam kemarin dulu. ‘Begitu juga tentang Eko Patrio. Yang komplain tentang dia malah lebih banyak lagi. Anak-anak sering mengeluh kenapa rambutnya, saya kutip, ‘so 2002, tapi gayanya kaya dia baru potong di Budi aja. Najis.”

Setelah Tessy yang berpendapat larangan tayangan kebanci-bancian ‘sama saja dengan membunuhnya’, beberapa artis dunia entertain [sic] yang dihubungi koresponden ini mengungkapkan mereka jadi khawatir tentang kelangsungan karir mereka. ‘Aq PIqir kPi NgAwur deCh Akyu GaK Prnh oRdeR iDenTiTY di A&W paSti MOja,’ tutur ‘Winda ‘Saschya OB’ lewat pesan pendek waktu ditanya pendapatnya. Sementara telpon genggam Eko Patrio tidak diangkat walaupun telah dihubungi berkali-kali (RBT-nya menyenandungkan singel terbaru Coldplay, Violet Hill, yang menurut Rani Noe’man, Psi, menunjukkan keinginan besar ‘pelawak’ (sekarang dalam tanda kutip) ini untuk diterima di kalangan AGJ (Anak Gaul Jakarta), tapi tentu saja ini akan membuatnya dianggap semakin katro. (ttaj/mj)

 

aku mau menunggu transcab saja

menunggu sepuluh aeon untuk menghemat sepuluh ribu. waktu layar bioskop terbalik dan kau menekan flip horizontal dengan ujung jari yang mengemis perhatian. tegangan elektrik di udara sekitar cikini raya. planet arium, waktu bima sakti terbelah lima, dan tata surya = nick seseorang di pultimly. bun, siram, goreng, yam yummy yum yum. temani aku berbuka o nokia e61i! bebaskan aku dari kutukan semester genap dan wajah oriental. waktu itu di danau UI dan balik semak yang belum Yong Ma. watch me watch me, take your liberty!

tarif bawah lama bawah banget. sakti tupra, mari naiki gelombang udara. 89.2 utan kayu. 98.7 d’masiv melulu. cinta itu sungguh melayu. efek rumah kaca hanya propaganda al gore belaka. boys and girls saat aku tertawa di atas semua, saat aku menangisi kesedihanku, aku ingin engkau selalu jawa. meringis saja waktu ujung jempolmu kuiris dengan parutan kelapa. jangan pernah ada, dead air di udara yang menyala di antara kita. chris knox. bekas tall dwarfs. a giant in the christchurch scene. circa late 20th c. when Morbid Angel was a cupid.

fall from grace. rise from the ashes. phoenixes, merpati/bangau putih, burung dara goreng depan terang bulan. waktu kau membiarkan casper masuk ke dalam rongga matamu. kau cocol french fries pada mcd’s chocolate sundae. kau seperti zzlibard. tak terpengaruh gravitasi walau dunia dan cangkir di matamu kenapa mereka? are we so intrigued? rawa belong tujuanku, asinan betawi asupan giziku. tabunganku semakin bertambah dan dilema hidupku pun, tz, macbook, pro, atau ku-dp saja blackberry bold di gerai e-motion itu? entahlah, transcab di depan mata tak keliatan, buraq di kaki langit sana malah. iya.

Saag paneer

but nothing’s sagging as far as i can see
baby
the only wrinkles you’ve got are between
the here and now
keep the chutney they go well with the roganjosh

this could be the best indian i’ve ever had
north or south i have lost my compass
that was you
now i’m freestyling thru the leaves of the bodhi tree
would you like an extra naan to wipe up the honey sauce ?

i think i’ll have chapati this time
and a good time
every time
you heed my advice and forego shaving yer armpits for two days
this thing is just like agedashi only firmer

 

MODEST BREAKTHROUGH

perhaps i’m more of an open person than i previously think. when i’m angry, when i feel i’m in trouble, i tell people what i think, what i feel, i lie about what i think, i lie about what i feel, but i always tell them something. something that might give them clues to what i really feel, what i really think. i rarely tell them things just to get them away from me. i want them to understand. to get closer to me. i open myself up. get in.

i want to just do the right thing. whatever i feel is the right thing. it might not be the right thing. but i want to just do it. whatever i believe is the right thing. i used to do it i think, but then i stopped doing it i think because i was sick of not getting any reward from it, not even what i used to call the gift of being able to walk away with your head held high. i started slouching and feel like death. i was sick of that. i felt i was lying if i held my head high but the heart was rotting inside. but now i’m sick of feeling vindictive towards the world. the world doesn’t give a shit about my vindictiveness either. water off duck’s back. i shouldn’t care so much about what the world thinks anymore. i am the world.