you’re pretty as a shadow
a thin shroud
packed
in rays of neon
i took a flight of fancy
i broke the keel on my wild boat
your heels, lifted
off the ground
tempat berlindung di hari tua
saat sepi menutup mata
Eine kleine Mekifantasie
you’re pretty as a shadow
a thin shroud
packed
in rays of neon
i took a flight of fancy
i broke the keel on my wild boat
your heels, lifted
off the ground
tempat berlindung di hari tua
saat sepi menutup mata
I will create the fabric of next year already
Discharge wabash, polka dots, stripes, moleskin, coloring + floral design in recent years
(wear excluded)
Until now, the famous pattern in old clothes were many,
but we will create a pattern that has become
like to look at the odds and ends
simply another this time
… I’m troubled still while I think at the discretion,
of going in the crystal-like hexagonal stripe + snow here or…
Orders in front of you,
while promotion, that next year,
I feel to look at it and study of the genre,
such as military and outdoor wear or even
I feel that it is connected to the product
made it
like “!Cool me this” and “!Interesting”,
mind is the dance simply,
good stuff in my own and I wonder if I can
I received also today “original feel”
Even ten years ago from now,
I do not appreciate that it was born
it is difficult even in ten years to age
very good
For me to be able to call people as “friends”
by attaching chest
the ground beneath your feet
is rarely solid
you go through states of deception
to make each experience
sound
how do you deal with something as magnificently post-colonially hybrid as #azrax? on the one hand it laid waste to all conventions of genre filmmaking (is it a tragedy or a comedy or a tragicomedy or… a parody?) on the other hand it follows so scrupulously all the tenets of traditional indonesian film laga down to a’a azrax’s joko sembung ektensyen mullet (the end result is a mashup between the raid x inem pelayan sexy). on the one hand it brings you scenes of unimaginable cruelty rarely seen in other indonesian movies and undoubtedly important to our understanding of the struggle of women in this country (have you ever seen or imagined how an indonesian mami in a hongkong rumah bordil abuses her girls? this movie, against all odds (ie all the trivializing negative buzz against it), offers you a version which is more than anyone has ever done) but on the other hand it treats such scenes with brazen, shocking lightness of touch and comic timing that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry (see the “cilukba” and “indonesian chicken” scene). then on the one hand the whole movie is an a’a gatot vehicle but on the other hand it also pokes fun at the ridiculous, laughable figure of a pastoral pasundan kyai and his hordes of pretty virginal sycophants (ie the real life a’a gatot himself!). i had the best time watching this movie in any case, i laughed at it, i laughed with it, i cried, i was repulsed by it, i cringed, i loved it, i was flummoxed by it, i was intrigued, it got me thinking about the politics of this country, its whirlwind descent into capitalistic sauve qui peut, its soi disant righteousness, but it also told me to stop thinking and just enjoy myself it’s just a movie (as a’a ajrak said in the movie (in the midst of a fight scene!), “easy, man”). it brought back that joy of film-going (not just film-watching or worse film-nitpicking) that i thought had gone forever from my life.
seperti membaca rené char dan tidak mengerti tapi hatimu rasanya seperti diiris-iris. seperti menonton antonioni dan bertanya-tanya kenapa mereka harus copot baju begitu cepat tapi merasa panas sendiri juga dan mungkin kabut-kabut itu hanya supaya hati mereka tidak terlalu cepat terbakar. seperti membaca rené char lagi kedua kali dan mulai berpikir mungkin lebih baik mengiris-iris hati sendiri daripada merasakan kesedihan yang seperti itu. seperti membaca surat-surat wcw dan tidak mengerti bagaimana surat-suratnya untuk flossie bisa kedengaran sekaligus begitu mencintai tapi juga begundalan. seperti membaca stevens dan membayangkan begitulah orang bisa gila hanya karena kebosanan. seperti membaca stevens dan tahu dia hanya menulis puisi supaya tak harus ngobrol dengan istrinya. seperti malam itu aku ingin memelukmu saja tapi kita sedang main ayunan di taman dan banyak orang lagi main futsal. seperti malam itu di taxi sebenarnya aku hanya ingin berhenti bicara saja dan mencium rambutmu. seperti beberapa menit sebelumnya di rusun kebon kacang aku berjalan di belakangmu menuruni tangga dan aku ingin sekali bilang, stop, stop, aku tidak tahan. aku tidak tahan semua ini. seperti itu.
suatu malam, kulihat kau menenun matahari
tidak ada yang tahu, di balik air laut yang pelangi
ada rompi penyelamat yang kempes. oh, lupakan
katamu, sambil memilin gelang gelang bambu
di dalam sebuah puisi ashbery, bisa ada sebuah mall
dan kaleng pomade yang memancarkan cahaya kota
namun di dalam koneksi kita yang sebatas sinyal wi-fi
hanya ada keinginan untuk mendekat yang makin lama makin pudar
balikkanlah waktu ke siang itu, pada puisi yang menggantung dari daun pohon kamboja
dan kolam renang yang mereduksi warna langit
apakah kita masih berdiri bersandingan di sana
mengayunkan tangan perlahan pada udara yang memisahkan kita berdua
o n de interwebz
th in gs are re – leased in NO TIME
it’s up TO YOU to pick thi ngs up when YOU see fit
when the world inks in a TIME NO PLACE
just FOR YOU
no coming from be – hind
no playing CATCH-UP
with kvlt shadowz
how would you intervene
how would you caress the sun
how would you deconstruct an oil spill
how would you dance in a field of grass
how would you enervate desires
how would you imitate a tree, a pond, an idea of stillness
how would you recuperate
how would you come to me
how would you
Your family not travelling with you?
No, they just didn’t feel like it this time.
Are you staying at the usual place?
Yep, the usual. Pretty tacky. Maybe that’s why I like it. I still haven’t been to your place.
No.
I wrote about it already in one of my poems though. I said you kept mandrake’s root under your bed and that your grandma still kept a fully-manned, gigantic servants’s quarter.
Wrong about the mandrake’s root, but the servants’s quarter, that sums up the whole place–pa-lace.
I stole the mandrake’s root from Donne.
I thought you stole it from Pan’s Labyrinth. You wrote that other poem about watching the movie with your ex-girlfriend, I thought you stole again from the same movie.
Maybe I did. In Pan’s the root is kept under the little girl’s bed, isn’t it?
It is. Seperti di puisimu tentangku.
The air was hot like always at this time of the year. The man tried to look into the woman’s eyes each time he spoke, out of both courtesy and desire. The woman sometimes returned the stare, sometimes played with the rabbit ring on her right ring finger.
Malam ini panas ya
Ini, belai sinom di dahiku
Tanganmu kurus, mau aku kasih lotion?
Boleh, nanti saja di kamarku?