adam’s anatomy

I seem to be unravelling. The loud bang is still reverberating in my head even hours after the collision.

It was so loud that Sir Moose came down running. Syazuan was behind him, so as Edmund. Jo, Meesh, and Rachel followed.

I remembered.

I was in a hurry and reckless. It was my fault. As I steered the wheels, hit on the pedal and…bang. There was a blank, a split-second moment of zilch – void. It was like those Tinseltown action movie moments – the screen turns fades into white and you can only hear a deafening bang.

As reality orbed back into my vision, white screen morphed into violent white vapour, shooting out from the front of my car. There were not sign of broken glasses. There was no blood.

I dragged my car and pulled over by the roadside. They came down running, my colleagues. The girl whose car I hit was alright. Thank God for that.

It was my fault. I do know that.

Within minutes, the ‘poachers’ appeared; they were enticing, convincing but nevertheless helpful. Thank God there was only one team.

And so the story goes: signed a release form with the ‘poachers,’ I saw my car towed away, made police reports, work as if nothing happened, dinner, then came home looking for documents to file for my claims tomorrow.

There were many more that I wanted to write but I seem to be unraveling now.

Delayed reaction.

I’m reeling from shock.

I survived a bloodless car crash, but ended up with 6 stitches and one major surgery in my wallet and pockets.

But I survived.

Somehow, I thank God. A 2-second change would have succumbed me to injuries.

The rain had begun to fall as I finished writing this post. What a day…

I drove home turning 26 the day after St Valentine’s Day. St Valentine’s Day was spent at the office working passed midnight, restructuring and tweaking the March issue with my boss, in regards to the upcoming election.

I didn’t bother to write about my birthday. There was nothing much to write…at first, until a friend asked, “Did Benazir Bhutto really makes a difference?”

Momentarily, I was stumped. I was not sure how to answer that.

At 16, Benazir was already a student in Harvard and later in Oxford. Upon completing her studies in the States and in the UK, Benazir returned to Pakistan only to found herself placed under house arrest in the wake of her father’s imprisonment and ensuing execution.

She was only 26 then.

What happened later was history filled with drama and to a certain extent, one that matches Aung San Suu Kyi’s lifetime battle for Burma. Benazir spent her lifetime in and out of the prison and the Prime Minister’s office. Corruption charges had reduced her to a mess and later a self-imposed exile. But like any ordinary person, she fell and brought herself back up.

At 16, I was still a naïve teenager who could not wait to grow up. There was no Harvard for me but a Harley-like Virago where I learnt how to ride and subsequently got my first license. My kind of house arrest was those days when I was grounded by my parents after I was caught puffing Marlboro and skipping school.

I might have yet entered the Prime Minister’s office. I would not unless I was summoned by the Prime Minister himself, but hey, at 26, I’m spending time in and out of a publishing office, where I never thought I would in my life. In the wake of my former Editor’s abrupt departure, I found myself left in the battlefield with a few people with me. And I fight on.

For whatever that was worth, Benazir was causing a difference. The cause for a difference was a good beginning. She did not make Pakistan, but Pakistan certainly MADE a difference in her. She was a privileged upshot of Pakistan born out of cruelty, bloodshed and adversity.

Her courage had given hope to thousands of Pakistanis who are urging for a change – a change that would have reshaped the face of Earth.

And so, it was the changes in my life has a made a difference for me. And I like to believe that it makes a difference for others too, but in a microscopic scale of course.

A difference is a development of sorts. A change of situation renders a difference.

Turning 26 does not excite me anymore.

But the difference does.

I’m grateful for what I have and what has been given to me. Thank you.

With the courage and granted control that I have earned so far, I am bound to make one.

I hope so.

All I have to do is to make myself alive out here when I’m done.

Cheers to those who bring courage and hope into our life.

A few weeks’ absence has rendered a number of my friends’ persistent inquiry.

“‘Where is your next post?’, ‘When are you going to blog?’, ‘Have you forgotten about your blog?’,” asked a few.

There are many things to being with. My last entry was on January 10. A lot has happened since. The passing of Pakistan Opposition Leader Benazir Bhutto and Hollywood hero Heath Ledger shook the world, while Thailand’s Princess Galyani Vadhana death (due to cancer) put the nation in grievance.

Basically, I was busy mourning.

I didn’t know them that well. But somehow, their deaths were too surreal. Their images were splashed over everywhere. Benazir was made headline worldwide. Heath had a great share of post-death limelight in the Entertainment sections. Her Royal Highness’s larger-than-life portraits were erected all around Bangkok. One major section of the Grand Palace was even closed on a Sunday for spiritual ceremony after her death when I was there.

These people who died were not just famous, they were (and still are) famous for their work – especially right before their death. Of course we heard about Brokeback Mountain, but it was Heath’s latest role, as Joker in the upcoming Batman film who got him killed. Rumour has it that he carried the character profoundly and intensely, hence he suffered from depression.

The same goes for Benazir – we heard about her dad Zulfiqar or her husband Asif and the corruption charges. But she was in a political rally, for her promising victory in the upcoming election before she met with a bullet and Death. Read TELL’s February issue dedicated to Benazir Bhutto, the Daughter of Destiny.

The reek of death is in the air. But that’s not all. My journey to the North was a life altering experience. But I’ll leave that for another day.

Oh, did I forget to mention about Ike Turner? He died on December 12 at the age of 76. So much for the confusion that I thought it was Tina who died, so I Googled this morning – Is Tina Turner Dead? I read the line wrongly, and made hoo-ha about it at the office.

How can the Rock Diva died without Oprah crying? Should have known earlier.

Seeing how the New Year can be a change with a death after another, I think it doesn’t matter if we have resolutions or not. Things changed. 30 pounds lost in weight today won’t be good if you’re dead tomorrow. Smoking lesser may reduce pollution but if you drive a 2.0litre sedan to work everyday, you’re not helping either.

Surrender now. I’m putting down my armour now and spare myself the trouble. We will all die anyway. But I know, it’s not today. And that’s a relieve everyday.

Dilaw’s going to be pleased, if he reads it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to come up with a joke and have my Sampoerna.

fear.

it trickles into your mind like the air that you breath.

i went home after Mont Blanc’s new flagship store at Pavilion opening last night and as usual, expected to see the ‘king’ and my ‘queen’ at home. but it didn’t happen.

as I reached home, i saw the lights were off.

“they must have slept early tonight,” i thought.

i parked my car, entered my house and went up to my room only to realised that they were not in theirs.

the door was ajar. no one was in there.

it was weird. both of them went out and the cars were at home.

i went down and quickly took a shower.

minutes later i was in the kitchen. i stood by the sink and lit up a cigarette.

it was all quiet.

for a long time, the house had not been that quiet.

the silence suddenly turned into fear.

somehow, i had the worst feeling in my life - both my parents had vanished. gone.

“what if they have left without notice and will never return?” my silly mind thought.

“what if they can’t take each other’s crap anymore?”

“what if they can’t live with each other anymore and the son is not living up to their expectations?”

i felt all the forces in the world were exerted on me.

i felt like an abandon child.

lonely and small.

“what if i don’t have the chance to express how much i love them?”

“what if i don’t even have the chance to say goodbye?”

“What if i don’t have the chance to say i’m sorry?”

“what if i really don’t see them again?”

my heart sank into the core of earth, burning with fear. fear were like black clouds that covered my mind.

i couldn’t stop thinking of the worst.

i am not ready to face that.

i am not brave yet to fight that.

Last Friday, I was invited to the Annexe at Central Market’s ‘Party for the Future.’ It was a dinner party held at the recently closed disco, Liquid.

The decision to go was a simple one: It had been a while since the last time I was there and it had been a while since the last time I mingled around with folks from the arts community.I thought it was going to be a simple gathering. Be there, eat, drink, smoke, mingle, talk and leave. No fuss, no muss.

Moreover, I was more curious to find out what they had done to the place and what the ‘f’ it was all about. (f for future, pun intended)

What I did not know of, as I walked into the familiar ground, was something which I had not anticipated.

It turned out, the future wasn’t that welcoming. Instead, the past returned in the most disturbing way. And the present paused for the first time in my life.

Frankly speaking, I didn’t know half of the crowd. After dinner I hung out on the other side, where the bar once stood and the alcohol flowed, and had a few cigarettes.

And there I was, sitting on a chair on the bare, hardened concrete floor, in a corner of the room, having a moment.

My moment.

It was indescribable without the accompanying hits that was being played in the air. As the crowd came together and started dancing on the floor, the memories of the old disco formed before my eyes.

Liquid was once THE place to go. In my opinion, it was our very own version of Studio 54.

Who would have thought? The disco is now reduced to a dingy dark room, stripped off its glory and glam.

When the DJ played Whitney’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody, my heart sank into the bottom of the ocean.

My eyes were teary.

Who would have thought?

I couldn’t pull myself out of my chair. I tapped and moved with the rhythm but I just couldn’t stand up. I could have this dance forever, but not.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt angry. I felt like it was a mockery. That these people were dancing there. That Liquid has gone. What was once brimming with life and hope for people like us had all perished. Vanished into thin air.

Gone.

tick…tock

tick…tock

tick…tock

It’s the 31st of December, 2007 today.

It’s approximately eight hours to midnight and a new year.

But there will be no Liquid party tonight.

2007 will be the year that Liquid’s gone but survived by many.

“Liquid is an institution,” said Bernice.

“Liquid’s the beacon of hope for people like us,” I thought.

Whatever plans they have for the place and for whatever it is worth, I pray it’s for greater good.

Let there be another institution. Let there be hope.

* * *

It’s my only regret this year. And I regret that there is nothing much that I can do about it.

It’s the end of the era.

And tomorrow couldn’t come any faster.

not very long ago, i met this girl during one of my late night assignments.

she was one of the PR executives for that function. we instantly bonded given the nature of our work. that night, i remember, we ate, drank, smoke, talked, and gossiped the night away.

although we hardly saw each other after that, we kept in touch.

you do keep in touch when she is one the coolest girls in town.

. . .

not very long later, we bid farewell.

she was leaving the KL for Beijing, where she is based now. it felt kinda sad, to see a friend going away and i must admit, a hint of envy to see a friend being able to do posting in a foreign country. i wanted to be based in Bangkok and Paris. (Yeah, dream on Adam Lee!)

however, weeks gone by without hearing from until, one day, she emailed.

in the email, there was a confession.

jang, jaang, jaaang…

in her letter, she startled me with an opening line: …seeing…a guy…Jewish…from Israel…can’t visit each other’s country…. (btw dot dot dot means censored)

more:

…i’m christian…chinese…malaysian…citizen of a muslim country….what’s gonna happen next????

i told her i was suprised. intially, i didn’t know whether it was the cross-borders issue or the fact that she ‘nailed’ a jewish as a date (her excuse was: chinese boys are shy [i agree] and useless la [i absolutely agree!!!] … scared of foreigners [she meant ang mohs la]).

then i realised it was a happy surprise. i didn’t expect someone living in a foreign land would meet a potential someone that fast. no judgement but, hey, i experience that before!

i wish her best of luck of course. sincerely! the whole story is yet unfold. believe me, if i have a time machine, i check out the future now. for her and for myself to know. curiosty kills the cat.

. . .

hours ago, i received an sms from another friend, who told me how she felt after a holiday of too many DVDs, random thoughts, and alcohol.

it was loneliness.

how sad.

although i didn’t like/agree with the last line, i tried to understand what she meant.

i think we need to be saved. and whether we are sitting comfortably on the couch at home, or venturing out on a journey, we want to be saved by someone (or something.)

and the idea of being saved, keeps us thinking, where should we go next, what should we now and how do we go about it.

. . .

don’t know if i’m making any sense.

but with the best home security system installed, some of will still feel insecure at home. come to think of it.

in my case, i do know, where to go next, what should i do now and how do i go about it. i just don’t have the best security system at home.

i’ve been drinking since Christmas and i still can’t knock myself down.

seeing baby Isobel turned 0ne month old earlier tonight was a blessing that i count into mine. blessings for the mother, father and child.

not to mention friends that were there to gather for a wonderful evening on the eve of Christmas: Intan, Sheila and Johan. And friends from the media circle that i see and run into more than speak with.

Sherwin, it was very nice of you to mention me in your note. i know no one is lonely. loneliness it is a state of mind. and it is just something that i have in mind when i’m not at work. still, it’s nice of you to remember me.

through the pictures that i was tagged in FB, 2007, i must say have been hell of a year. it feels like years, indeed.

i feel like an old chap sitting before the computer, cigarette in one hand, typing out another world-weary chapter of his life. there’s way too much to say, yet too little write. reminiscing the world that had gone.

you got me, you know that.

i need to increase the shots of Jim Beam before i waste too much electricity.

and energy.

the magic is no longer there. only the music remains. and this has nothing to do whether you’re a six-year-old or not.

life changes. i think Daphne’s changes dramatically.

Wahti’s too.

mine has gone 720 degrees. it’s only the same Christmas songs i listen to remains the same. with or without you.

i should be drunk by now.

sleep is the best cure for boredom. sleep and forget about the world. and enter a new one.

thanks.

merry Christmas everybody.

God bless y’all.

bottoms up!

i had a few to drink tonight.

frangi somehow looked odd. there were many unfamiliar faces and then there were those that put the happy curve back on my face.

it’s been a Delhi, a Singapore, a Kuala Terengganu and many Pavilion and the Gardens launchings since i was there.

basically it’s been months.

the last time i was there, i lost a laptop, a portable harddrive and a digital camera. i lost my life.

i try not to tag anyone on FB as the growing concerns of friends have been quite overwhelming. (i’ll leave it up to you if you want to read, don’t say i didn’t warn you - it is pathetic and depressing.)

nevertheless, it was quite unpredictable to see a large crowd there. i thought due to the long weekend, most people would have jetted off to somewhere and left sex and the city behind. obviously, my prediction needs to be re-examined.

those few bottles of beer certain made me high. but not high enough to get me down on the dancefloor. it was enough for me to talk fast enough to catch up with friends that i’ve not seen in ages.

i wonder what happen to them.

some put on weight (just like me), some just lost a lot, and some remained the same.

the music still sucks and the DJ still thinks it’s cool. please, buck up yourself. if it wasn’t the drink and the camaraderie, the place would have been nothing but merely a place to dine (and cruise and hook up). nothing less.

i dare to say this cos the FUCKER is still around. alone mostly and waiting for moment to strike. to take advantage of others. To HELL with you and your family.

i don’t know how long will frangi survive. maybe another decade.

Liquid has closed down recently. after what it had gone through. i know a lot of people have a lot to say about this but it’s just sad that it’s no longer there. many people have walked through that door - with tears, laughter, sadness and joy. but it’s behind the closed door now.

time passes. and i don’t know what mistakes that i’ve made or yet to make. i do know that there is tomorrow after this. when the liver has finally filtered the alcohol and i’m sober, i might start to think again.

but i know that i will have my life to live and work to do. and then, perhaps i will think, what have i missed.

or why Liquid is no longer there.

“what are you doing for Christmas?” asked some of my friends lately over dinner.

initially, i didn’t bother to think as boss had planned to take us all away after we closed the magazine. but boss being boss, she had other things to attend to, hence the plan fall through.

i didn’t mind. nor did we. the thing about me is, i don’t bother so much to think about what am i going to do during holiday, especially those that are mainstays in the yearly calendar. i make my own holiday. i go for one when i think i need it.

maybe it’s because i’m neither a Christian nor a Muslim, Christmas and Qorban don’t apply to me - i don’t have relatives coming over or big preparations to work on. not that i’m not big on festivals, but my family and i have grown much simpler when it comes to celebrations. my dad prefers to be modest, while mum always tries to avoid getting things complicated. for all you know, we rarely even have dinner together.

maybe it’s also because i’m single. a single guy who works a lot and rarely goes dating. the culture here is different. i tried and i didn’t like the way it works here; and i stopped wasting my time with idiots. so, when you don’t have that special someone to be with, everything tends to be easier. no gift to buy, no candlelight dinner reservation and most of the time, no time to waste for others.

i’m beginning to sound pathetic.

and so, here i am again, sitting before the computer writing on a rainy afternoon. my parents are all downstair. i just woke up a while ago. and i drank myself silly again yesterday.

as i drove home yesterday, there were road congestions here and there. a lot of people were leaving the city, heading back to hometown for Raya Aidil Adha. there were cars with parents and children, some laughing despite being stuck in the traffic. there were singles in cars heading home to see their family. i know they are - there were pressed baju Melayus and baju Kurungs hung on the side passenger door.

The Shadow of Your Smile were repeated playing on my car’s stereo.

i didn’t know what to do.

holiday. sometimes, what a waste. sometimes, it’s just another day.

i’ve been drinking a lot lately.

what i like about it is, after two to three cans of beer, i get slightly high and i usually have to drive home after that. when you’re tired, and high, and driving, you float.

i like that ‘floating’ feeling as i drive home.

i think a lot about things in life.

i basically drive-dream.

i drift away, fantasizing a beautiful holiday, or a perfect moment where i fall in love again, to the soft and mellow sound of jazz playing on my car stereo.

i wallow in self-pity, thinking of the mistakes that i made, and the wrong decisions in my life, to the heart-breaking songs on the radio.

sometimes i just stare at the red lights, light up at cigarette and bask myself under the orange halogen light.

my mood swifts.

i am just a human after all.

a human that drinks a lot.

i guess.

i think.