“Déjà vu”

Elizabeth arrives to the church every Sunday at least forty-five minutes before the mass begins. That way she can easily get parking right at the side entrance.

We walked down Craig Street and I commented that she should take a photo of the street sign. It was the same name as her friend in the video they made called ‘Attune‘. It fascinated me as the harmonics was very much like a Tibetan singing bowl. I had to try to bring her to that Tibetan shop. Unfortunately, it was closed and I could not introduce her to Nima.

We talked a bit outside and I told her about my meeting with Gelek Rinpoche when he last visited Pittsburgh. It was a rare visit since his Jewel Heart organisation is based in Michigan. It was amusing how we had to travel halfway across the world to meet here in the United States when his Malaysian centre was very near where I lived before. Nina commented that indeed the world is smaller than we think. She had a déjà vu experience at Panera. We talked about how we would dream a mundane scene in life years or month ahead in time. A few days ago, I wondered that I probably know I would die when I stop dreaming of the upcoming future.

We walked more and saw the colourful Triceratops and Apatosaurus (formerly known as the Brontosaurus). Took pictures of the Cathedral of Learning towering behind us. We saw a Malaysian flag outside a shop that supposedly were vendors of ‘Hot Dog Heavan’. We had a great time.

Nina then joined us for the noon mass. The homily was about ‘Forgiveness’ since it was the tenth anniversary of the September Eleven tragedy. Nina had to leave half way through as she needed to catch a bus to Downtown. She had a long night and I was not sure if she was tired or the church was chilly. I took out my keys and removed the pen knife. It was for Nina in her travels. We hugged and she rolled her red suitcase away.

I wished I had asked her to stay forever.

{S05E07 : 20110912 : 1105}

copyright 2008 – 2011 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Jamais vu”

She is probably back in Cleveland, Ohio or back in Friendship a street away. It is hard to tell when the lines between factual and imagined reality dissolves. In any case, I miss her.

On my bed last night, I could not sleep as my heart felt heavy and sadness lingered throughout the day earlier since we parted. It felt like a very long goodbye after a momentary hello. There was indeed a connection. I tried to deconstruct the experience to understand it better and explain to myself how and why I could get so emotionally involved in this? It did not really matter if the experiences were real, but whether there was truth in the whole interaction.

The most recent time I found myself sleepless and disturbed like that was when Geneva’s cat died abruptly. It pained me a lot to see her sad like that. I get affected easily by these things and it would explain or justify my defensiveness sometimes when called to attach myself to issues. It seems simpler to wish for an apocalypse to end it all, as the suffering of humanity is unbearable to me.

I got out of bed and sat at my desk. In the car on the way from Panera to the Saint Paul Cathedral down on Craig Street; Nina asked if I had been producing anything creative lately. I said no, despite the crop rotations moving around the harvest in music, writing or drawing. She commented, perhaps I have been happy. I agreed with a quote from Graham Greene’s ‘End of the Affair’ (film) : “Pain is easy to write. In pain we’re all drapply individual. Now what can one write about happiness?”

It is true. I was happy. That much was least said or written in the past few months.

I started drawing on my desk. It was the only way to exorcise the feelings inside of me. I did not want her to leave. It was September Eleventh. By the time I was done with scanning and putting it together it was almost one in the morning.

Back in bed I started to analyse the events of the day. How fascinating this phenomenon. In the dream realm, the emotions are real and the experiences influence. In the waking realm, we have logic and restrictions. Definite elements like facts to determine if something is true. That is not truth. There are connections to be made beyond the circle of experiences we have in this waking realm or current physical existence. She defied those conventions by extending invitations. Lead by that intuitive feeling, we build new experiences together but only after we find common ones that are startlingly vaguely familiar. Like clues of a past or hidden memory.

Despite the initial made up creation of memories, we were very genuine and honest with who we are and our feelings. Who is to say the waking realm’s memories are ‘real’ and ‘true’? Coincidences or premonition? We tend to base factual reality as the standard sometimes when meeting people. There is still this hidden intuition that gives us a gut feeling. It did not really matter after we met whether things had to be exactly true. We were friends and having a great time.

For a moment, I felt like I was in a Michel Gondry film.

{S05E06 : 20110912 : 1038}

copyright 2008 – 2011 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Parlez-Vous?”

We met Nina Sarnelle yesterday morning at Panera over on Shadyside. It is funny how we all got to be sitting there face to face. I had opened a letter mailed to our address on the ninth. I figured it must have been mistakenly placed in the mailbox or perhaps it was meant for the landlady.

Curiosity got the best of me, and while walking up the second flight of stairs; I found myself opening the letter with my mini grey Victorinox pocket knife. It read that she is an old friend of mine from a distant past. She would be passing through Pittsburgh just for a night and in need for a place to stay. And that she has something for me. It would be a narrative of our friendship that has not existed before but will be the moment I respond. This was part of her university’s community art project called ‘Jamais Vu’ meaning “never seen”.

The letter intrigued me as well as inspired. I composed a reply when I sat on the dining table entitled, “A Letter of Friendship”. She replied by email later in the evening with very warm words. We corresponded with stories and experiences that we made up but sooner became true.

The white polar bear who sat at our dining table who was nameless soon became known as Mr. Pogo. I could not leave him behind in Malaysia as a tropical paradise is no place for a furry white bear.

My mandolin which I played an impromptu song for her in her grandmother’s Pontiac. Outside the passing trains that went on almost forever. This occurred during a sudden heavy shower that became hail. It rumbled on the roof of the car like a haunting tambourine.

She wondered if I would play her that song again or teach her how to play. Unfortunately, I traded my mandolin skills for the guitar by the request of Elizabeth’s father, Clayton.
He found himself at a woodworking workshop building one after a colleague that was supposed to accompany him bailed out at the last minute. He went through with it nevertheless and built a mandolin. The effort was tedious yet rewarding.

At the end of the workshop they celebrated with beer. In the joyous occasion he accidentally spilt his mug over the instrument and it warped the wood and stretched it into a guitar. He named it after himself and requested that if I had his daughter’s hand I would have to play this. The irony was he does not know how play any musical instruments and believed I would better serve his craft by doing so.

I could not offer her a place to stay but decided we could meet at Panera for brunch on Sunday. We could catch up then at ten. Here is hoping you would recognise me. I’ll probably be the only Asian-looking person sipping tea. In reality out of convenience I got coffee. The usual. Quarter cup of coffee and as much cream or half and half I could fill before it gets full or runs out.

I sat there with a ‘bear’s claw’ pastry with Elizabeth and her hot chocolate. I immediately recognised Nina when she walked up to the door. Paused and took photos of the entrance. I waved. She smiled. Everything else went very smoothly and easy from there on.

{S05E05 : 20110912 : 1020}

copyright 2008 – 2011 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Fourth of July”

The fireworks last night was an enjoyable experience. Robert’s white straw fedora seemed to have blocked most of the view. Fortunately, the flowering colours expanded above in full view in the foreground of the darkened nine halved sky. The crescent moon shines hidden behind trees. That was the least of our concern despite its beauty.

Fourth of July Fireworks Display at Wilmington Town Common, Massachusetts on July 3 at 9.30 p.m.

The band played melodious but flaccid sounding music. There was no life in it yet being perfect as it is. The crowd and the festive spirit – with their children and loved ones made up for it. It was a great celebration with many families and loved ones sitting in the field waiting for that moment.

It is coming to a month being here and everything has been moving both fast and wonderful. I finally have some time now to slow down before picking up the pace again for next weeks’ events.

Last Tuesday, we drove some twelve hours from Pittsburgh to Boston to visit the Morrissey residence. The drive was plagued with Visuai Kei infestation, strange Mexican music, and some good ones from Buck Tick. It was a strange mix of music for the trip. Therefore, I have vowed to bring my own selection of songs on the way back; consisting mainly of folk, melancholic sounding music, Bobby Darin, Inkspots and a few more pre-Evergreens.

We had to visit Boston by the month’s end so that our car can be given the annual inspection since it is registered in that state. I find that process a little odd. I feel America is like many different countries being united rather than states. One thing for sure, that I have realised is the best thing about America and her people all bear USA Networks’ tagline : “Characters Welcome”. It is definitely a great nation to be in. The doctor who gave me my vaccination on the second week of my arrival asked how I found America. I replied, “It is wonderful.” She then asked how long have I been here. “Oh … about a week.” She then said, “Shaaaaaaaadap” with a big smile and continued with the same breath “You don’t know anything yet.”

Speaking of which with reference to characters, the Bartus came by yesterday afternoon. I had not the opportunity to meet with their eldest son, Jon. I am already quite fond of their second son, Chris since I met him last year at Elizabeth’s graduation party. Frank made a really offensive comment about Elizabeth during the barbeque eat-out at the backyard. With all the appetizers spread out on the grated metal table, I thought that was all there is to eat. Since skipping breakfast and lunch being later; I was hungry. Taco chips with guacamole and cheese dip, shrimp with tomato dip, and crackers with a few types of cheese spreads with slices of salami. After stuffing myself, Clayton asked “Would you prefer a hamburger or a Bratwürste?” The flies were out because of the summer humidity and the sweating shrimps. I took the opportunity to swat Frank Bartus, the father creature for his earlier comments. He is the size of a cow and smells like a sausage. Under different conditions, I might actually hunt and eat him.

Cindy, the wife-saint held him on a leash. “That is NOT funny, Frank”. Good boy. “He doesn’t have a filter,” said Clayton. For some reason, I noticed Frank was not eating as much as he did last year. Perhaps he had an earlier snack before arriving. Or as Clayton figured he may just be losing his touch.

Frank is a stay-home father, an intelligent, quick-witted man, who I believe was a nerd who rose during the emergence of the Silicon Valley age. Cindy, however is the bread-winner of the family with her own accounting business, with a lot of entrepreneurial spirit. That passed on to her first born who was absent because he is working with his friends in a new business venture somewhere in Nantucket for the summer. Chris is studying business and always has some T-shirt bearing his pro-activism interest. This time it is a Leprechaun green T-shirt that camouflaged him behind Andrea’s garden with white words “Save Darfur”. Last year it was a black one about Gay Pride despite being heterosexual. He often seems to strive for causes that bears very little relation to himself personally. But I like the guy.

It was interesting to know that Chris has a good friend also named Chris. During the conversation he would interject some social problem statements and questioning the current mode of societal practices or behaviour while his father Frank would interrupt. Then they would bicker for a bit and he would throw tantrums. After getting another beer or soft drink, I counted perhaps all in all in that 6 hours about four of each in total. He would continue his story about his friend Chris to Robert about their recent outing; going shopping for summer clothes and stuff.

Chris then mentioned that the other Chris was actually bisexual. Therefore, had a greater inclination to purchase more fashionable things. It was amusing how the Bartus family have a list of topics that they are not allowed to talk about at the table. They range from politics to bad sexual jokes. Chris then got the red card from his father, the referee. He then went on about how bisexuality was a description and not a sexual reference, in that they were going the opposite direction. Robert corrected him, that bisexuals go both ways not in the opposite direction. It was amusing watching this form of reality TV while eating. They are really characters.

This went on and on for hours. I am glad today I sit on a sofa typing this after an afternoon nap. Earlier in the morning, I was helping Clayton to clean the dishes and later the mother to move things from the old fridge. They bought a new fridge that will be delivered tomorrow and the old one to be taken away. Andrea was not really sure about getting a new one since the old one was still somewhat functional after almost twenty years. Clayton emphasised his point by demonstrating that the fridge door could not close properly because of the black mold at the ledges. Yes, it has to be changed. It churned its last chlorofluorocarbon into the ozone.

The first two weeks of living in Elizabeth’s apartment allowed me to settle into the new life. It took me the exact number of days for each time zone I crossed to get over my jetlag. The sunlight at eight thirty in the evening added to my confusion; so did the crazy birds chirping happily at four a.m. I did most of the cleaning, cooking and rearranging. It could be the stress adjusting to the new environment. We ate like royalty. But I slept briefly as if this luxury belonged to a person who was thrifty.

Fuji Monterey 1982/83 Road Bike

I even bought myself a new bicycle from Craigslist. This purchase was fated as I saw the ad as I was about to leave Malaysia. A few days after I arrived, I contacted the seller and she was prompt. It turns out she lived just six houses away. Sold it to me at a good price as well. It was a black vintage September 1982 Fuji Monterrey Japanese road bicycle for the 1983 catalogue. I was thrilled to know that the serial numbers told me that it was made the same year and month I was born.

I look forward to more experiences ahead in the coming months. With a lot of hope that I can discover and develop new areas of interests and skills. I will be starting an online store on Etsy to sell some of my artwork prints. It would be something I would enjoy doing and hopefully bring some joy to those who would like to own either the originals or prints. I was also warmly welcomed by a Pittsburgh arts community called SteelTownEtsy and hope things would work out well with them and find good friends there as well.

{S05E04 : 20110704 : 2348}

copyright 2008 – 2011 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Three Dishes Since Arrival”

Shrimp with Garlic and Red Chili Flakes in Olive Oil

Finally, I could sleep. The light and birds here are not synchronised. It was almost nine before it looked like a usual evening, and by four the birds were chirping. I got a good rest after over thirty hours of travel.

Since arrival, I cooked three dishes : Shrimp, Salmon, Beef Stew.

For the Shrimp we got a large bag of frozen shrimp that we defrosted from the first day. I simply cooked it with garlic and red chili flakes with a generous amount of olive oil. It turned out great, but a tad too spicy for Liz. We had some eggs benedict with buttered toasts for breakfast, and we had the shrimp with the rice for lunch.

Fresh Salmon with Mashed Potatoes and Broccoli

Liz originally wanted to prepare Chicken Lemon but the meat could not be defrosted in time. Alternatively, I prepared some fresh salmon with broccoli and mashed potatoes.
Deciding that Sunday, I would take a break and join YHWH for a glass of wine; I cooked a large pot of beef stew. That would last us a few days.

Riki Moore’s Beef Stew

Unpacking is still in progress. We need to move the furniture a bit to set up my workplace and altar. Went out almost the entire day doing grocery shopping, checking out Target and Lowe’s. After getting home in the afternoon, had lunch and laundry; we walked to Giant Eagle and got dinner ingredients.

I like that the place is conveniently located within walking distance to most things. Free internet and water included in the rent. The exterior leaves much to be desired but inside it is cosy. Come Monday, I will do some cleaning and reorganising the apartment and hopefully be done with the unpacking by then. Monday, also I would have to call a few people to arrange certain important things to come.

This morning, I hope to have a bit more rest and probably do my prayers. I need to find where East is. The rest of the day, I guess you would have to hear about it later.

Until then.

{S05E03 : 20110612 : 0516}

copyright 2008 – 2011 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Hello Pittsburgh”

American Airlines Flight from Narita Airport

Good morning, Welcome to The United States of America.

I woke up a little early today, possibly due to the jetlag. I feel great though. So what is there to complain about? Just made breakfast. It may be due to the time difference but last night I ended up making breakfast for dinner; and this morning dinner for breakfast.

The flight went really well. I could not believe how smoothly everything went. I checked in my luggage at Kuala Lumpur International Airport, and there was no queue. It was done within three minutes. I was worried earlier they might want to weigh my carry-on as it exceeds JAL’s 10 kg limit, as compared to American Airlines’ 18 kg. They did not bother and that was that.

I am partial to JAL. Probably because it has the word ‘Japan’ included in it. It could also explain why I am partial to David Sylvian too, since he was formerly from the band Japan. However, I just like his solo works limited to Red Guitar and Orpheus. I was introduced to Sylvian via one of Malaysia’s well-established music reviewer from the Star; Chua Chern Toong. In the last few weeks of my working at JobStreet.com; I was able to forge a good friendship with him and he opened up a few new doors to explore different kinds of music; directly or indirectly through association of bands. I was then able to discover a host of musicians like Virginia Astley, Devandra Banhart, The Slits with Ari Up, Kings of Convenience, Coccoon, Dallas Green, and Memoryhouse.

For the flight from Kuala Lumpur to Tokyo and then to Dallas; almost a nineteen hour flight with a six hour stopover; I was fortunate enough to have a vacant seat next to me. It was a very comfortable journey. I could not sleep much though, so I watched a few movies that I would otherwise would not. JAL had good inflight entertainment but somehow lacked providing more than a snack. While AA had good food but lacked new movies. I can never sleep on moving vehicles, or anyplace that is not a bed.

The taxi driver named Yusof, who drove me to the airport shared the same sentiments. We talked about P. Ramlee films, mistook my mother for my wife, who never has travelled on a plane despite ferrying people to airports, and recounted his tale of being a long-haul truck driver. Perhaps, that would be my last conversation in Malay for a while. Malaysia does not know it, but the gateway to receiving recognition to the world would be to have P. Ramlee films represent them. Shaw Brothers in Singapore for some reason do not see the potential these films have. The greatest barrier is not having English subtitles for his serious films though he is better known for the comedy. The comedy might be colloquial but his dramas like the classic Anakku Sazali (My Son Sazali), Ibu Mertuaku (My Mother-in-law), Sargeant Hassan, Penarik Beca (Rickshaw Man) and Hang Tuah – are five powerful examples of his performance as an actor and multi-talented director. I could not wait for the Shaw Brothers to see the Criterion-like potential, so I took the initiative four years ago to subtitle three of the aforementioned works. I should perhaps continue to complete Hang Tuah and finish it with Penarik Beca. I was fortunate that some YouTube videos I had released before gained enough attention that a representative from the Singapore Film Society requested permission to screen them in their P. Ramlee film festival in 2010.

Welcoming Present from the Morrissey Family

I was greeted at the Pittsburgh airport by Liz and we stopped over at the Giant Eagle to buy some groceries. I needed razors and Curel cream. I thought I entered heaven. Of all my travels across the States, Bangkok, Singapore and Malaysia – this Market District branch was perhaps the best I had ever seen! The selection and variety is endless. Think a scene in the Matrix where Neo was asked to select his firepower; that was the infinite array of rows with anything you ever wanted.

It is seven fifteen now. I will continue this later. I do not intend to be cooped up in this screen. I will be back later!

{S05E02 : 20110611 : 0716}

copyright 2008 – 2011 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Goodbye Malaysia”

Overlooking the Kuala Lumpur skyline from Traders Hotel’s SkyBar, my glass of absinthe is being stirred by an effeminate waiter in full black; gently pouring water through the absinthiana to dissolve the cubed sugar. The green fairy is absent, but it turns milky. It was an impromptu farewell drink with my long and good friend Leonard. I would be saying goodbye to Malaysia.

I would be flying off 9th June 2011, and that will be that. I’ve said my goodbyes to the city of sin months in advance. My two friends just recently. And my mother at the very last hour before the taxi driver collects my suitcases.

I thought I might want to say a few words here before I leave. To capture the moment. I have let that slipped by with great lapses in time, which I will now fill in writing this. Do not fret. My next episode will bring you over with me to the United States of America. Where I will live my days in the Great Dream that I shall believe from here on.

Leaving this country and my life I have lived for over 28 years; touches me like the hand of death. I feel like I have been preparing for a true departure of the spirit. Least if it was infused with some sweet memories, but time and waiting has waned my patience. Liquefied and stirred with emotions.

I have not written in months. What have happened since – this lost time? Mostly, whining and the usual bouts of depression. I took a job in Kuala Lumpur with JobStreet.com, at their online portal for automobile related interests – AutoWorld.com.my; managing their website, social media and community forum. It was perhaps one of my most enjoyable employers. I felt it was a shame that it just now occurred when I have endured so much hardships in my previous ones. Or it could be an illusion whereby, my detachment was present with the foreknowledge that I will be leaving anyway. Work-wise, it was great and with no complaints. I developed their social media and managed Malaysia’s largest automobile community forum. It was a fun task.

The only real gripe was the commute. It took me on average four hours each weekday to get there. The standing and waiting would be unbearable if not for a budget Android smartphone I purchased prior to commencing my duties. It is a really good phone, albeit slow in response sometimes. The HTC Wildfire was perhaps half the price of the superior models. Oh, well … at least I was mayor at a few places for awhile on foursquare. The main purpose of my purchase was for sanity. I watched almost all episodes of MacGyver. Countless movies. Songs. And chat conversations. It made me leave my cocoon and read about the despair of the world through Google’s Reader. Overall, I believe that smartphone saved me or else I would not have been able to endure for almost 6 months.

I took a long break from April onwards to settle some of my pending work. Mostly involving digitising all my remaining documents, photographs, creative work; as well as organising my digital files. I have been following a system of digital file organising and naming convention for these few years, through archiving efforts. I believe I have reached an almost ideal system to ensure uniformity.

The biggest reason for the break was also to spend my last remaining days with my mother. It will be quite a while until I will see her again. She would not be visiting me this year, so I hope my Advance Parole would go fine and I can return in December.

Elizabeth is out now, so I have time to compose this. She was another reason the need to express anything written was exhausted. I guess she is my best audience besides Geneva that is. Choosing between writing for no one in cyberspace and two lovely ladies; the answer is pretty well defined.

All my bags are packed and I am ready to go. I am not too happy that I am unable to fit all my worldly possessions into two 23kg luggage and a cabin-sized carry-on. I still have more possessions.

In my ideal, I would have liked to live with very few worldly possessions. Technology has not evolved to that ultimate convergence yet. The irony would be that, while I relinquished all my physical possessions, I instead accumulated digital ones. As long as they do not take up space and abide by the neatness of an unclutterer; I believe that should be forgivable.

As I make my way to the new country. I would like to continue writing my journal again. I am fed up of seeing hordes of Weekly Twitter Highlights. I will have them removed. It would be useful if I actually were more active. Alas, begone!

I look forward to quite a few things while I am there. For one, perhaps this journal will evolve slightly from personal thoughts to the real things I have been planning for years. Part of my motivation to organise everything in an Adrian Monk manner for my digital files was so that I would have a complete creative work reference that would be ready for release. I have started releasing most of my songs on YouTube. And I will, in time, release each aspect of my creative works over the succession of the weeks to come; accompanied with comments and background information. Adding to that, new hobbies and interest might spice up the flavours here. I will be cooking a lot for Elizabeth while we cosy in our little love nest. I might rekindle my former interest in bicycling again since Pittsburgh has a strong cycling community. Perhaps even observe the arts community or flirt with the local religious movements. I might have something interesting to talk about here. But most of all, more photographs. Now where is my Picasa icon?

That is looking forward, a preview of what is to come. However, I must look back. It was an interesting idea that Leonard and I talked about in one of our Friday night outings, getting plastered with beer and cheap brandy from the ghettos of Klang at KLCC’s park. We talked about writing my biography detailing the experiences I have had and where it would lead up to. I didn’t think that would suffice, as my life has no climatic point. There is a moment of promise, where the book would end where I leave Malaysia, embarking on a journey that the readers can imagine. Yet, I felt that would be a great ending for a chapter – not for a book. I have not accomplished anything significant or relevant yet. Many fail to understand the prophecy of why I am building up these creative works that have no significance unless I actually become one. I just have this belief, that if one day I were to be someone – all this I have done will bear fruit. If not, well … obscurity might become a commodity in some enthusiast’s collection. I do believe however, not due to the least bit of egocentrism or hints of narcissism; that I am indeed significant. I am proud of that, and I intend to leave an impression in this lifetime I have. That I have lived.

It is really quiet tonight here at one thirty in the morning. My thoughts now gravitate towards Geneva. She recently became Mrs. Henderson on 29th May. I have never seen her so lovely and enchanting. Her marriage to Chris really made me happy. We will soon see more of each other, though still almost 9 hours drive. I talked about scientists creating a space-time-continuum vortex that would enable me to just take one step across it to be next door in Saratoga Springs. I wished I was famous enough to make Geneva famous or vice versa. She might have a chance though if she went to more social gatherings. She recently met Keir Dullea, the spaceman who survived death-by-HAL in ‘2001 : A Space Odyssey’ (1968). Before that was Alfred Vanderbilt – who by the way loves my drawing. Lastly, was seeing David Lee Zlotoff at her St. John’s College in Annapolis, MD. Also, she lives in very close proximity to Yaddo. Something would have rubbed off by now.

I dearly hope Pittsburgh will welcome me. I took these last few days to read up again about the people, culture and (brief) history. As well as trying to familiarise myself with the surrounding areas. It is interesting to know it is a City of Bridges with 446 of them beating Venice by 3 or so. With that many bridges I wonder if it is an omen not to burn any behind?

I thank you Malaysia for all the experience I have had, the friends who have enriched me, the culture, food, P. Ramlee and especially the fond memories. Twenty-eight years I have spent, that would be hard to ignore as I pave my remaining years ahead. I have hopes and dreams. I will continue to live onwards hereon. Thank you again, Malaysia. Selamat Tinggal dan Salam Sejahtera. Semoga Tuhan selalu melindungi masyarakat yang berbilang kaum.

Least I forget. God bless you, Dr. Jacob “Jack” Kevorkian (1928 – 2011).

{S05E01 : 20110608 : 0245}

copyright 2008 – 2011 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the Road”

“1Malaysia” by yamashita riki

Bleh. Sorry I sounded like a jerk today. I am in one of those moods when everything around me annoys me and I want some comfort from it. I walk the streets of Brickfields and it is dirty and dingy. I stand and wait for the U80 bus in Pasar Seni and get a whiff of leaking sewage from the ceiling. That has been there years. The passengers don’t queue sometimes. I line up like any decent human being and they cut from the sides. The trains packed like sandwiches and had some guy’s hand rubbing me once, a fat woman too. I wish for clean pavements to walk on. Where unsightly garbage isn’t thrown all around, and not inside of a bin. Where public facilities have very short lifespan before being vandalised. I’m fed up with people spitting. People who don’t move into the trains to make space for the others who also wish to return home before the sun sets. I don’t want to get used to this quality of life or be tolerant of it.

It is just one of those days when you wake up on the wrong side of the road … I mean bed. I didn’t mean to sound arrogant in the past about the distinctions between the lower class. But I have learnt to appreciate value if one can afford such luxuries without being indulgent. I don’t see the point in making life unpleasant, rushing, queuing, and squabbling over free things; or something to die for if it is cheap. I rather pay for the comfort. It has greater mileage in the short life that we have. I appreciate what I pay for in terms of value. I appreciate why things cost the way they do, and not feel cheated by it. How can you compare a cup of coffee at Starbucks with one from a Chinese coffee shop at nearly 1/10 the price? I pay for the ambiance, comfort, music, crowd, consistency, availability, service, staff speaking English and not to have my clothes smell between meetings. I wouldn’t die for coffee and pay a cup of gold, I draw the line there. But my balance is somewhere above middle class. Away from the company of the coarser less refined members of society, which unfortunately I have been accustomed to and have been adjusting so forth. Yet it is not me. There is a certain level of grace in lacking. A kind of thoughtfulness, manners and politeness vacant in my every day discourse with people. The topics over lunch are trivial. Entertaining with a guffaw, but trivial. I crave some form of intellectual stimulation. I cannot find it here with most Malaysians I meet.

And when I do, the estranged values I hold dear sound extreme, absurd and radical. Well, the latter term I’ve added it in myself for vanity’s sake. It quickly turns off the mild mannered intellectual; barring me from further interactions. To the jury, I would say I have merely been misunderstood and misrepresented. My conditions whereupon I came to formulate such experiences are foreign, unfamiliar and unusual to most. It is as though I’ve stepped into a different realm and returned changed by it. So on face value, the surface of what I say probably puts off many people. Therefore, I tend to keep such ideas to myself as there often is very limited time to state a proper introduction to set the scene for the ideas to illustrate. I am tired of wearing opera masks.

I wish for a world where there is no racial distinction, no language barriers, no cultural divergence without common relevance, and a unified ideal for humanity that isn’t limited to singularity but plurality and diversity based on a common denominator. I wish to see diverse expressions as if life now, but has a clear rooted origin that is tied to spirituality. Where it isn’t bound by jargons or conceptual idolatry. Where it is free and possessed by none.

As I sit in my cubicle, I wish nothing more to be free and be myself, who I really am without censorship or restrictions to bind my thoughts, speech, or actions.

{S04E10 : 20101103 : 1209}

copyright 2008 – 2010 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Exit Window”

Tonight, Shane Vendrell dies. The other day Olivia said she believes that if God closes one door, a window will open. I agreed. The window is for us to jump out of the building. An EXIT, indeed. I will have to find movies to watch on the bus or I will not make the journey each day, every day, one time, doing time, for a long, long time; Antwon Mitchell would probably say.

The bus was half full or half empty depending on how you see it. Traffic was good. Got to work early. Had vanilla coffee from a can. Cold freezer. Building a story by completing sentences. Amusing indeed. Lunch awaits.

This week seems good. It could be the coffee. Why don’t I just give in to it? Submerge myself into the fresh brew every day and let it consume me completely in bubbly happiness? Misery is less of an effort. It is almost like savouring ice-cream.

The sirens wail almost every day. Sounds like Manhattan. Who cares about the commotion? It is too common.

It would be nice if it were Friday. I would waste it away standing in waiting. Thinking about nothing. Immersed in another episode of “The Shield”. It was bad enough that Lem got blown apart by a grenade with Shane walking away. Walton Goggins is a spectacular actor, I must say. In fact, that cop television series is perhaps the best in my lifetime.

It is almost time. I dare not continue. A steady flow of work keeps my mind preoccupied like any other mantra. Drowns out the thoughts. Steals away the hours. I would still like to go home. Friday is payday. I must endure.

{S04E09 : 20101021 : 1225}

copyright 2008 – 2010 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com

“Three Headed Monkey”

Monkeys. Evil mischevious creatures. I was wandering in the city after office hours walking from Bukit Bintang over to Pavilion, across the bridge and then to Suria KLCC Shopping Mall through the convention centre. They had the red carpets rolled out at the convention centre for some Eco-centric conference. The VIPs were in my way. I had thirty percent discount marked down Isetan sushi at the park with a great view of the Twin Towers in the evening.

Two Chinaland prostitutes sat next to me, but with my headphones on I seemed oblivious to their presence. I left after eating. I thought about monkeys. Have been hearing quite a bit about them recently.

The first monkey story was in the local papers. It was a gruesome incident that involved a four day old baby being snatched by a male monkey, attacked and thrown off a rooftop. The family had kept a female monkey as a pet. The male monkey that was attracted to the female, needed to kill the mistaken human for a monkey baby in order to ensure that the female is available to mate again. That story initiated other morbid stories over the lunch table with some colleagues.

The second monkey story is a neighbourhood incident that was less gruesome but tragic depending on how you see it. Somehow a monkey got to our residential area and was causing some trouble. Being its naughty self it was swinging on TV antennas and exciting the neighbourhood mentally handicapped boy. He started making monkey-like noises too, which was perhaps annoying. The monkey was never caught, so it climbed into people’s houses and played with their household things. Throwing them down when it bored him or realising it was not food. Then one day it threw an object that nearly hit the head of an old lady named Mary Ann. From her name you could guess she is Catholic. This old lady is not to be trifled with. A terribly crude, fierce and uncultured lady who got into a few verbal fights with the management and other characters unfortunate enough to meet her. Being angry at the management’s false promises to get things fixed, she told the person in charge off about his way of doing things in the most poignant Chinese philosophical saying : “You eat shit, but shit rice!” Yes. That sort of lady. Not taking any nonsense from mere mortals least a distant Darwinian relative, she got the management to shoot the monkey. Now it is dead. Poor monkey. No one can feed it gingerbread, at least it would not be knocked down by a choo choo in the country. By the way, Malaysia is not infested with monkeys, these are just rare incidents.

Third monkey story is about dreams. The abstract aspect seems lucid like Genna’s three headed monkey gif file on AIM. CareerBuilder’s hilarious TV commercials featuring work life with monkeys. Memory flashbacks of a National Geographic TV episode of Jane Goodall’s study on chimpanzees, emotional dependency of a over-grown teenage monkey still reliant on its mother. When the chimpanzee mother died, it was depressed sitting and watching over the carcass until it too died from succumbing to illness brought upon by starvation. My physical mother’s most memorable dream was about a monkey trying to enter her room from the balcony. The sliding door was shut so it could not enter. It was acting wild, shaking the iron grille and jumping about frantically. It probably was not a pleasant dream but certainly an amusing story to me.

Tomorrow morning again at five thirty a.m., I return to the concrete jungle with the other evolved monkeys in clothes on the trains, monorails and buses. It is easier to blend in if we imagined some sort of community; make believe, pretend and find common agreement to some ideal. I see nothing but anarchy in this Godless world, governed by primates. The three headed monkey appears with a play of words in origin; gesturing mizaru, kikazaru, and iwazaru. Do not see, do not hear, and do not speak. What an illusion, there really is no monkey, just a principle. Alas my dear Kuala Lumpur, despite being continuously polluted; you are still my current destination.

Kuala Lumpur, engkau kian tercemar. Biar pun kau begitu, hanya kau lah destinasi ku ~ “Kuala Lumpur” by Hujan

{S04E08 : 20101017 : 1612}

copyright 2008 – 2010 yamashita riki . all rights reserved internationally . www.yamashitariki.com