I just had a new portable hard-drive (PHB). I could've asked for thumb drive but with my poor memory i'd rather look for a big item than a tiny small one.

So i've been trying to transfer all my files from the old (on loan) PHD into the new one. Although this laptop has 2 ports, only 1 recognises the device. This message appeared in the Device Manager "Unknown device". Whatever! So i have to but no choice to transfer from:

Old PHD ---> c:/

then

c:/ ----> new PHD.

It took me 1 whole day yesterday to transfer and this is the final result:

What the heck happen to the rest??? I got a system guy to look at the files and he said it was hopeless. All those files and folders that cannot be transfered were either corrupted or infected bla bla bla. He can't even open the file/folders.

Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!!! that was a lot and i don't have any other back-ups. The old PHD is suppose to be THE back-up!!

I have to work tomorrow. At first when my colleague informed me, i said "oh okay, sure".  It was after he left that i realised, tomorrow is the 1st Saturday!! We're not suppose to work! We should be at home playing with our children, watch movies and cartoons, cook, ironing (*gulp*), read unfinished books...

*sigh*

And it's not even work. It's for this BIG, MAJOR event we're organising in May.

*sigh* again.

This is it. I'm ready. I know I'm ready. I'm so ready to venture into this new frontier, beginning, era! I'm gonna be the BEST at it everyone will be surprised. On top of the world, that's where I'll be.

I can see myself THERE with other high achievers in the Star. I can smell my success (wait, is that last week's roti?). I can be a new person, the other side of ME, unleashed. Ooohhh must start. Must do it. Must register fast. 

Payment ready? checked.

Cheque ready? checked checked.

Dah study? errr this can wait. I'll work this out as soon as the exam date is confirmed.

Next step: Call him to pass the payment so he can register my name for the exam.

Aisey..his phone is out of coverage area. Try again. Same. Try again. Again.

Oh, he's off to Turkey for 2 weeks. Yeah! high achievers get to go on sponsored trip overseas. 2 weeks? who knows what will happen to the payment in 2 weeks? Even BATA is on sale.

And why now? when my motivation is sky rocket, when my PHD fails on me, when i don't have back-up.

My hubby is a professor of Cultural Arts at Finas. Yesterday, he asked me to come over to see his new class. It was lab-like with screens and monitors surrounded by glass walls. At some point, the whole class room can be lifted up just like an elevator. It suppose to help the students to have a different view of stage performance, says he.

While I was skimming through the notes on the white board, a Britney Spears-wanna-be came in. Dressed in a spaghetti strap that would fit nicely on my 4 y.o daughter with white jeans (or was it in stripes?), she walked passed me (me, the wife of her professor!) to my hubby. Oh those sandals must be very comfortable, I said to myself.

"I'm sorry I skipped your class again, Mr F" she says . 

"So I've noticed," replied my hubby. "What are you gonna do about it?" He adds.

"Same like the others" she smilingly replied. She got down on her knees then moved like a cat towards my hubby. She lift up her butt high, J-Lo style. My hubby threw away his cigarette, but knowing I was there, he lead the bitch behind a big screen and started banging her.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I was there and was surprisingly cool about the whole thing. Hey, students gotta do what students gotta do. 

That is, until I reached home, alone. That was when it strucked me. He cheated!  I rummaged through his wardrobe (why so many socks?). "How many are they?? Stupid whore, she doesn't even have the cheek to even look at me" I screamed at him.

He was reading 'One Flew Over Cuckoo's Nest' or something clad in kain pelikat totally immersed with the book, smoking a cigarette. From one puff to another, shutting himself from my nags. I threw something at him. Missed. (Fcuk, can't even do things right!). I slammed the bedroom door and threw myself onto bed, angry.

When i woke up in the middle of the night, i saw him lying next to me wrapped in his yellow gebau (blanket). I was still mad. How could he?? How could he touch me after those bitches. I pushed him. Must push him out of the bed. You filthy!

Wait, hands feel heavy. Eh? Colours?! Everything was colourless just now. Wait wait. Was i... dreaming? But I am still mad. Marah sampai sesak nafas.  It was so real.

.........

heh heh heh I WAS dreaming. My hubby ain't no professor. Finas for once is not a school, moron! (Err, Finas does have a school called Akademi Filem Malaysia-Ed) He went to Finas, yes but for some stage setting whatever.

Suddenly it all so clear.

The professor is Mr David Lurie. He is a character of 'Disgrace' by J.M Coetzee, the book I'm currently reading.

The socks, sandals and white pants must be from Queer Eye I watched last night.   

I skimmed through the Crying Freeman graphic novel (Why? - Ed) last night, as a refresher (for whaaa? - Ed), hence the thumping effects. hehehe

The Britney Spears-wanna-be, well i guess its because I read in the newspaper that she is pregnant. Her image stucks in my head, horror nyer.

Heh heh heh. Sengih pastu tidur balik.

SMS received today from my sis-in-law;

Jenama sosej yang sah halal ialah "husband".  Lain-lain jenama popular seperti "boyfriend", "sugardaddy", "gigolo" adalah haram.

Thank you sis, very thoughtful of you to share that with me. The title implies the real sausage/hot dog, okay?

Warning : Spoilers for "Disgrace" by JM Coetzee ahead.

I've finished reading 'Disgrace' by JM Cotzee (yaay) but what's up with the ending? Hanging ler! I think this Nobel Prize Winner is clueless of the ending. Or rather he could not end his story just like Yasmin Ahmad for Sepet. Too provocative or socially incorrect for the society. (A filmaker once said "Perlukah setiap filem ada mesej? Kalau nak mesej, pergilah ke Post-Office, saya bukan posmen" - Ed)

If you have not read the book, its about a professor cum father who was forced to leave his job after he slept with his student. His daughter is carrying the seed of 3 rapist (not all 3 la, c'mon) and decided to accept a marriage 'proposal' from Petrus, a local man who, from my judgement, is the real culprit. The story takes place at South Africa so you could imagine the complexity of the racial issues.

I would prefer the story ends with any of the following:

a) The father burns Petrus' house killing Petrus, his 2 wives and the boy who raped Lucy, his daughter.  He lost his job, his lineage..he has nothing to lose... yeah yeah

b) Lucy threatens to kill herself and her newborn child should the father remains overly protective of the family...add drama a bit, police-hostage situation.

c) Petrus drove around in his father-in-law's car with big victorious smile... the devils won.

d) Lucy got married to the boy who is also one of the rapist, father killed himself...just to show how shtoopid they are.

e) Lucy realised how stupid she was and reconciles with her father .. more diplomatic.

Probably it's just me. I don't get the whole social differences in South Africa.

Editor's Note:

Coetzee's treatment for 'Disgrace' is basically to highlight the complexities of the racial treatment to women and the apartheid rule in South Africa. Coetzee is trying to say that even in the modern times, women in South Africa is still treated like their are goods that can be bartered.

The protagonist was painted as one who is in power (that he could seduce a black student into having a tryst with him, but was only punished through dismissal) into someone who can only helplessly watch his kingdom fall around him (Lucy's forced submission to Petrus, a black farmer) A allegory to the apartheid rule perhaps?

Coatzee also drew parallel to the mindset of Afrikaans with Bev and her animal shelter cum vet. People only brought the hopeless cases there, a humane dumpster for their pets/work animals that, if the problem of having to get rid of carcasses is easy, they would not even think of bringing their pets there.

I think last night's CSI: NY was lame. Too slow for a premier and too emotional for a CSI. At least (what's his name again?) ..is not as bad as Horatio.

What's up with Nasha Aziz and her father? Remember Sharifah Aini, how she dragged her mom to court? and where is Sharifah Aini now..senile, mentally disturbed (?).

Buat DNA bley?

I called Jabatan Imegresen (IMI) today to enquire about requirements on foreign maid (Maidless could turn things ugly). Vaguely, i know they need J Form but now with Sistem Taksiran Sendiri (STS), LHDN no longer issues J Form or letter to indicate our income. Then what would IMI requires in the absence of LHDN's income verification?

After few phone calls, this is what i gathered:

a) IMI inisists on Form J.

b) According to LHDN, effective 2004 assessment, Form J no longer exist. Confirm.

c) LHDN is no longer a verifier/conformant of one's income. LHDN should not be held accountable for any misrepresentation of income.

d) IMI still insist on Form J.

sheeeeeesssshh shouldn't government departments talk to each other?

Hmm what about other entity that requires J Form like banks? Have they changed their procedures?

Who then shall be responsible to verify one's income?

A cop-out entry:

Warning: Sin City references abound, should you are lost, please do a search on the comic (not the city) and get acquainted. Heh.

My sister, who is living in Seattle, watched Frank Miller's Sin City already, and I am seething.

Any comic book fan worth their salt should know Frank Miller and Sin City. Frank Miller wrote and drew what is arguably the best graphic novel of the century with 'The Dark Knight Returns', a story about Batman finally growing old. He created the dark character that would be a thorn in Daredevil's side, Elektra. And killed her too.

But, this is about Sin City, not the movie, but the graphic novel and what it does to me.

Set in a basin somewhere in the US, it is filled with dirty politicians, corrupt police force, psycophatic pet peeves and beautiful girls. Dangerous girls. Extremely dangerous girls.

I first picked up Sin City when an Art Director in my office showed me a poster of Marv, walking through the rain. Unlike the rest of the comicworld, this artist just uses two colours. Yeap two..black and white. and he filled the whole pages with these two colours. Curious, I picked up his first tradepaperback, Sin City. And I got introduced to Marv. I was hooked. Like Miller himself said, "It's all Marv's fault"

The heroes in Sin City franchise are not the heroes you would expect them to be. By the second issue of a story, you can't help but being hooked by these characters. They have flaws, they have weaknesses, they are sometime stupid too. And they are human, meaning they can die. Marv, Dwight, Wallace, Hartigan.

Ahhh..Hartigan. I have managed to get quite a few people to actually start reading FM's Sin City with Hartigan in 'That Yellow Bastard' (once the movie hits the circuit, you'll get to see it too..you lucky blokes, needing only to spend a few ringgit to enjoy it...dang you). Frank Miller uses the comic pages to maximum effect with this story. Ask my sister. She called me a day after I lent her the final issue of 'That Yellow Bastard' and she told me that she was going 'No!No!' before turning to the penultimate page.

The page she was reading when she said that showed Hartigan putting a gun to his temple and thinking "A young girl lives, an old man dies, a fair trade". In the following issue, 'Hell and Back', a fan wrote in the feedback pages what he felt while reading the same pages. He wrote "I do not want to turn the page. I turned the page. Damn you, Frank Miller. Thank you."

Herein lies Frank Miller's strength. Writing. Unencumbered by any restrictions on the characters and former history (like in Batman or Superman) he is free to create characters that are engaging and believable. He is free to use the pages as he please.

It doesn't matter if you would love Frank Miller before or after watching or reading his comics. But I can bet that the town would ensnare you after that, without pity indeed.

So I've watched Frank Miller's Sin City DVD. And it was ho-hum. Coming from me, someone who would blindly say anything that has Frank Miller as its writer would definitely be good, that might come as a surprise to some.

My last post explained what was the movie about. Unable to stand the fact that I may be the one of the last to view the movie, I hunted for it and found a copy somewhere in KL. I know that this movie will never be shown in Malaysia, so to hell with intellectual properties ok?

The movie in itself was excellent. It really does capture the essence of seeing the graphic novel coming to life. I can't help smiling to myself when Marv's, played brilliantly by Mickey Rourke (with prosthetics of course), shadow was shown on a blank wall. Nor will I deny that my heart skipped a beat when Hartigan (Bruce Willis) looks up from his prison cell and we get our first look at That Yellow Bastard, looking nothing like Nick Stahl but every bit as it was envisioned in the graphic novel.

To say that this was an adaptation would be like saying Marv is good looking. Robert Rodriguez stayed true to the comic. Too true in fact. So true that he succeeded in bringing the whole page to you. Some framing was exactly the same. I know, I was watching it with all of them in my hand. Turning it page by page.

Herein lies the problem. Reading it is not the same as watching it. If there is a way to actually bring a whole page of a comic book to life without destroying the pace or drama contained in that single page, I'm sure Robert Rodriguez wasn't using that treatment. Robert Rodriguez seem only interested in the graphic violence aspect of the comic book. We will not see the stark use of lights or silhouette that Frank Miller greatly harness in his stories. We only see a few instances where this technique was used. But not enough. The whole graphic novel ended up being like a normal black and white film.

Which left us with the script to pull it through. In his stories, Miller uses typography to help him accentuate feelings (another thing that I will bring up afterwards). The style of laughter, the way Marv coughs up blood. The intensity of Dwight explaining his plan to the girls of Old-Town. This was all not felt in the movie. The dialogue felt extremely flat. The voice-overs was atrocious. The babes were left to look like hookers with a penchant for guns or swords. (They are suppose to be hookers with a honour to protect their own turf by the way)

In the comics, Miller drew the characters with much more emotion. Marv went ballistics when confronted by Lucille. Not just raised his voice. 

Don't get me started with Miho. For me, the biggest disappointment. Miho in Sin City should be lithe and intense. Expecting Devon Aoki to carry it is probably like asking Prince Charles to have some sense. Or George Bush to have an iota of intelligence. Devon is just not so Miho. Heck, even Tia Carerra could do better. That was not a compliment.

But there are some graces. Marv was everything I imagined him to be. That Yellow Bastard is still creepy and spiteful (ooo...you will luuurrvvvee hating him). Mr Schlubb and Mr Klump does enough to be potrayed as "two any-kind-of-job thugs with delusions for eloquence". Gail fills the Amazonian fantasy when Miller drew her.(although I think in the comics, Gail was white)

In the end, my wife ended up struggling to stay awake halfway through. I was trying to give credits to the production value. And Quentin Tarantino decided not to bring any of his finesse in developing a story.

This, is a Pulp Fiction sans the ability to make it a cult.

Probably I will watch it again and again and try my damndest to ignore the question on why in the world a great graphic novel could be turn into an ordinary film.

Damn you Rodriguez, no wonder I have no desire to watch El Mariachi or Spy Kids.

Is my expectation too high?

This will be short..by my standards. I do have the tendency to ramble on and on.

I was on the way to work when a question popped into my mind (well, not really popped, more of simmers actually. I'm always thinking about inane stuff when on the way to work) What would make a good husband? Don't ask me how I started on this train of thought. For all I know, the train has started down the tracks when it gave me the schedule.

I have three brother's in laws who in my eye, somehow epitomes the mould of the perfect husband. Oh, I have another three more, but I hardly see them so I can't really say much about them. One I hardly sees at all, except during festivities perhaps. Another one I could see probably once a year, him being at the other side of the world. And the last one works as a doctor, and the longest that I have spent time with him was when he attended my daughter for a suspected case of dengue.

Some would ask why my father was not in the list. Well, Papa was a late-riser (still is I think, now that he is retired) so I assume he struggled a bit with the class, and the grade. He made a great dad though.

Anyway, the subject of my post is the first three eldest brother in laws. These are the people I look toward as model for me to aspire.

The first one is married to my eldest sister. Even after almost 15 (?) years of marriage, he still covets my sister like she was the twenty-year-old nymph he married (Hey, you said it that way ah...I just rearrange the words..hah). Abang Ichai knows almost everything. If you talk to Adam, you could say that most of his wisdom comes from Abang Ichai. Abang Ichai also is an extremely pious man. Often enough, when I would hang out at their office, I would hear him reminding my sister to pray. And he would be the imam as well. He managed the finances of the family pretty well. And he succeeded in curbing my sister's urge to shop. Now you know that is no mean feat.

The second brother in law is my wife's brother. When I got married, Angah already has two kids. So I'm not sure how long has he been married. Angah is the model leader, taking over the affairs of almost everything in his house himself. My sister in-law just takes cares of the kids and cooks. And probably wash the clothes and hang them to dry. Angah is such a perfectionist that he washes the toilet himself, not trusting that anyone but him could get it clean enough. Heck, he even sweeps the floor. Now for someone who is from a Kelantanese family like me, that would a major shock. Angah also extremely clever in managing his finances. He is the only bread winner in the family, yet they could afford to go for a vacation at least every quarter of the year. Angah is also an afoconiado in cars. That alone gained my respect immediately. I know how to destroy cars. Angah knows how to maintain them, and make them last.

The third and last brother in law on my list as the perfect husband would be Abang Taufik. He married my second sister while they are studying in the States. In him, I envy his skills as Mr. Fix-It. He built half of his house on his own. Fixed the plumbing, roof, painted the walls. Your typical handyman. The store in his house was converted as a toolshed. With every tool in its own place. With markings. And he has a green thumb. My grandfather has a greenthumb as well. But I guess the genes stops there. All I can grow are weeds. And he loved my sister to bits. Abg Taufik is also quite tight on his cashflow. He would spend tons on the house and other investments. I couldn't say how much land he owns or how many houses he has. Go and ask my sister. But for others he is much more careful. And he knows not to spend too much on short term items. Like Pearl Jam concert tickets..hahaha..just kidding. Abg Taufik is extremely logical. He could reason anything with my sister. If you know my sister, you'll see..err..she has a mean temper and Abg. Taufik could easily pacify this when no one can. Pretty cool stuff.

And me? I try to emulate those shown by my brothers in law. But then, I've always been a late riser, and I'm struggling a bit with the class, and the grade. After all, I am my dad's boy.

I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
’I’d like to see you, if you don’t mind.’
He said, ’I’d love to, dad, if I could find the time.
You see my new job’s a hassle and the kids have the flu,
But it’s sure nice talkin’ to you, dad.
It’s been sure nice talkin’ to you.’
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me,
He’d grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.

(Cats in The Cradle - Cat Stevens/Harry Chapin/Ugly Kid Joe/Guns N Roses)

A fiction: Characters, events and situations are entirely a product of a morbid mind. Please do excuse the author for using his entire creative license. And more.

Bau rokok dan aftershavenya mula memenuhi ruang sempit keretaku sebaik sahaja dia melabuhkan punggungnya ke kerusi Recaro baruku. Dia hanya tersenyum pahit apabila aku bertanya khabar. Bukannya aku nak tahu sangat keadaannya, tetapi dah adat Melayu, nak buat macamana kan?

Kereta dah mula banyak. Aku mula menyumpah dalam hati. Banyak banyak hari, hari Jumaat juga bapakku nak berjumpa. Dah la hari nih aku agak sibuk. Tapi atas desakkannya, aku turutkan juga.

"Azizul, I need you to help me," bapakku mula membuka bicara. Ah, opening gambit yang biasa aku dah jelak dengar. Nak mintak duit lagi lah nih. gerutu hatiku.

"I need you to forgive my sins. I feel that we don't have that much time together anymore." Tersentak aku sekejap. Dalam kesesakan jalan itu membolehkan aku memandangnya beberapa ketika.

Beep!

Bangsat punya kereta. Aku tahu la. Aku masuk gear satu dan menekan pendikit. Tak ke mana juga sial, bentak hatiku ke kereta dibelakangku.

"Why now? When you left us, this does not occur to you at all?" Aku menyoal. Sedikit keras. Lima tahun luka takkan sembuh sepenuhnya. Bukan luka ini. Ayat terakhirnya aku biarkan dibawa arus kereta yang dah macam Sungai Klang dilanda kemarau. Lesu.

"You did not think about how Mak cried herself out almost every day? " Aku membalas opening gambitnya dengan ganas. Sebelum nih aku hanya menunjukkan rasa tak puas hatiku melalui perlakuanku. Kali ini dengan kata kata pula.

Beep!

Lampu masih merah. Aku menyusun amarahku. Ku lepaskan satu satu. "How our younger brother have to quit school so he could work? Just to make ends meet? And when I met your friend, they do not ask me 'How is your father doing?' but 'Your father is not living with you anymore, right?'. Buat malu Azizul saja." Aku menjuih bibir. Cis, macam makcik tua pula aku rasa. Bapakku diam sahaja.

Beep!

Aku menjeling ke cermin kereta, memandang siapa bangsat yang berani membuyikan honnya. Ah, Cina. Patutlah. Mata kami bertemu. Aku cuba menghantarkan rasa benciku melalui pandanganku. Berjayakah?

Beep!

Bahuku ditepuk. Tersentak aku dari tidur. Doktor dan seorang misi gempal sedang sibuk memeriksa bapakku. Monitor jantung yang bersambung ke sekujur tubuh berbunyi semakin laju. Sungguh ironik kelajuan monitor tersebut berbunyi setanding betapa kecoh keadaan doktor dan misi gempal itu bekerja. Aku mengesat saki baki tidur dari mataku dan berundur kebelakang. Apabila bersandar didinding hospital begini, baru terasa kepenatan 6 jam memandu semalaman. Jarum suntik dihulur ke doktor. Dicucuk. Aku seakan terasa jarum menusuk pembuluh darahku. Bapakku masih tak memberi reaksi.

Beeeep...

Flatline. Aku mula risau. Makin bertambah apabila misi gempal mula menyediakan paddle.

Clear!

Whoomp!

Clear! Whoomp!

Jantungku seperti diruntun setiap kali elektrik menular ke dada bapakku.

Tak sanggup melihat lagi, aku pejam mataku kuat kuat. Pekakkan telinga. Ini bukan realiti, hatiku berbisik. Apa kau tahu apa itu realiti? Kau dijajah perasaan, bukan logik! jerit otakku.

"Dia dah tak ada" doktor beritahu aku selamba. Kalau dalam situasi lain, memang aku sembur doktor tu. Tapi sebab kena kat aku, tak jadi. Perasaan aku berbaur. Tak tahu nak kata apa. Aku menghampiri tubuh kejang di atas katil. Misi gempal berundur setapak. Aku merangkul leher bapakku. Bau rokok dan aftershave menusuk hidungku. Buat kali terakhir. Aku dah boleh bau kapur barus dan setanggi. Dah terngiang bacaan yassin dan raungan Mak. Dah terbayang Imam Dollah membaca talqin.

Gelap sebentar duniaku.

"AZIZAN BIN HABSAH"

"SIAPA TUHAN KAMU?"

*Tajuk diambil dari lagu kanak-kanak "Bapa Ku Pulang Dari Kota"

Hong Leong Bank.

sue me, if you wish. make my day.

Under consideration:

1. 4 years gap. Seems long enough.

2. To cease production at 32. If God's willing.

3. Achieved 50% from actual target vs 2 years left.

4. Timeline: May-June-July-Aug-Sept-Oct-Nov-Dec-Jan/Feb Delivery.

Jan - same birthday month as Abah. Feb - same birthday month as   Kakak. Good ah. 

====================

Just when i thought i am ready for no.3, Naim my 3 y.o son threw up on my face...during dinner...at a medan selera. 

Ini yg kata nak tambah sorang lagi ni?

===================

Today's new entry in organiser (not digital);

"To confirm appointment for (another) 3 months jab"

*sigh*