[hither-thither]

The Aftermath of Musikal Laskar Pelangi at The Esplanade.

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 12:00:25 +0800

I came prepared to be amazed and, Amazed I was.

I bought my tickets in July. I’ll do the math for you – that is almost 3 months prior to the play, and the best seat I could get for TWO people, was row S - the last row - of the section right in front of the stage. I was quite bummed, BUT an incident that lasted for les than a minute made up for it, because had I not sat at that last row, I wouldn’t have been able to catch a glimpse of Nicholas Saputra walking back to his seat during the intermission. He oozed heat (read: hot). My sister and I were staring, admiring the great view, gasping with eyes wide open and dropped jaw like bloody fools. And I think the sound controller guys whose station was behind our seats and just in front of Nicholas’s seat, thought we were admiring them. No, Sir, sorry. Next to Nicholas Saputra you’re pretty much not there at all, but fear not, because with Kucai on stage, even Nicholas Saputra was pretty much not there either. Yes, the play was THAT good.

Soon after the lights were dimmed, I saw this little stick moving up and down below the stage. I figured, Erwin Gutawa (and his baton). He captivated the audience with the tense and dramatic music, you know, strings – woodwinds – brass – percussion the whole shebang, I mean – obviously I am no music expert so no, I won’t try to be a smart ass and comment about the music. However I will tell you this, Erwin Gutawa was responsible for the first of many – many chills on my spine that night. Not only because it sounded beautiful but also because I had a lot to take in and the Great Gutawa with his orchestra got me all geared up and gave me that slap with his music as if saying “yes - this is happening, yes - in a matter of seconds your long wait will be over, you will be watching Laskar Pelangi the Musical, but no - you’re not in Indoland, this is no Taman Ismail Marzuki, look around, this is the Esplanade and this, will be, Legendary”.

Then the curtains open. My eyes welled up – already. The group of Mining labours opened the show with the track that reminds me most of the play, one that I play in my head when I reminisce about the play “Hoi! Hoi! Hoi! Hoi! Hoi! Hoi!…” But my favourite scenes will have to be the class election and Lintang’s farewell scene. The casts were amazing. Those kids, dear god, they sang and dance and act all at the same time (LIVE - mind you), like they’ve been doing this since before they were in their mother’s womb. Just a word of advice, since you kids dance, sing and act so well, please for goodness’ sakes, do not even consider thinking about making a boyband – I mean, seriously.

The stage transformations throughout the performance were so effortless. There were the hills, the ‘lopsided’ school, the mining site, the market, the more modern school, and then there were the sets for scenes like the carnival and the scholastic championship. I’m pretty sure I’m missing some but my point is, all these scenes were changing flawlessly. Ok one of the hills got stuck for like 2 seconds, but that was all I noticed. I especially love the earthy tone of the whole play from beginning to end. Everything and everyone on stage were in earthy tone – except for A Ling who was in striking red - but despite the humble colour palate of the stage, the whole play was still very much vibrant thanks to the choreography, the music and the remarkable vocals.

The Choreography has got to be the one aspect that impressed me most that evening. The routine was so well done, it reminded me of raw nature, a chaos that makes sense, an artistic mess. It was not trying too hard to impress in order to stay true to reality. The props they used were so adorable, my favourite has to be the long grass the female villagers carried and was up almost to the stage’s ceiling. Even something as simple as checkered sarongs were such nice addition to one of their routines. J’adore.

Excuse the quality, but with some extra powerful vision, this image actually shows the Creative Team members. The gods and goddesses of the play.

At the far right, in black unbuttoned shirt, waving his right hand, is Erwin Gutawa, who before this was just a flying baton below the stage.

Then there is Mira Lesmana in bright blue, smiling proud and clapping, and I just noticed is barefoot. She is the Producer, Scriptwriter and Lyricist. Need, I, say, more?

A little further to Mira’s right is her partner in crime, Riri Riza, the Director. He’s the one in white looking back.

The one in unbuttoned blue shirt and a hat, is Toto Arto, also the Producer

The tiny lady in black baju kurung is Hartati, the Choreographer. A job well done, Madam - really.

Finally! The one in black and denim pants, with lean legs and for some reason well-moisturised hair, is Jay Subyakto, the Production Designer (any tips you can share, Sir? Beautiful hair you have there). Last year he and Toto Arto were actually presenting another production at the Esplanade called “Matah Ati”, how I missed that is just beyond me, I still kick myself thinking about it.

The play was actually a part of Esplanade’s annual event called “Malay Arts Festival” which could be misleading as people may easily assume – if they don’t pay much attention – that the play was a Malay local production or (God forbid) a Malaysian production. So maybe that’s one of the reasons why at the end of the play, when the whole cast along with the play’s creative team were giving their salute to the audience who were standing up, clapping and soaring, a big red-white banner was pulled down for display and some of the casts put up their hands aiming to the banner. It was the perfect final touch to the play. It was as if the people on stage were telling the audience that the main reason to their standing on that stage was to have that banner down for everyone to see. No stars, no crescent moon, no stripes, just the plain ol’ red and white.

Before the play I had my worries considering the ticket price that was much cheaper than when it was shown in Jakarta, then they were doing auditions in Singapore, then I read the article on ‘Hey Diaspora’ about absence of goats, I was worried of that possibility that I might not be getting the exact same show that was in Taman Ismail Marzuki. But believe it or not, until this very second I still cannot figure out when in the play was I supposed to see any goats? I can kind of spot the people they auditioned in Singapore, but it didn’t take away any points. Most of all – and this is major – I completely forgot I was expecting Dira Sugandi to play Ibu Mus as it was Eka Deli, but I’ll say this much, she did just as mean a performance as I had expected from Dira Sugandi. Heck, I even forgot I spent a whole 150 minutes sitting not just in the same room, but just approximately 4 meters away from Nicholas Saputra (…teteup…)

It was such an amazing experience to have been so impressed by Musikal Laskar Pelangi. It was an honor just to be in the presence of those artists who seem to exhale Talent. And to have fallen that much deeper in love with my country was, in lack of better words, inspiring.

Kitchen Confidential (Anthony Bourdain)

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 12:00:10 +0800

Love love love

I adore Mr. Bourdain.

It was so weird, the weekend after I finshed reading the book, I was watching food network and there was the ever-so-sassy Mr. Bourdain on “A Cook’s Tour” going back to “Les Halles” and having an old taste of being a line cook after years of being an Executive Chef, by then he wasn’t even in Les Halles anymore.

Then later in the day I was watching another program on food network and it was of this chef getting some training from the Executive Chef of “Le Pyramide” Restaurant, which was the Restaurant Mr. Bourdain mentioned in the book to be the one Restaurant to show him that food is a lot more than just cooking and eating.

He is one hilarious, whacky, and wild man. And believe me, his TV shows, does not do justice to his true character which – I’m pretty sure – you will only find from reading this book.

Can’t wait to get my hands on his fictions

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby Or, More like abnormal fidelity. I...

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 12:00:03 +0800

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

Or, More like abnormal fidelity.

I did not enjoyed it as much as I had expected, maybe because the reviews I read prior were so praiseful, but to me it just didn’t live up to it.

Sry Sir Hornby.

But the your book covers look cool, tho :)

"Friends, Lovers, Chocolate" (Alexander McCall Smith)

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:59:49 +0800

I am not sure now why I even pick up this book in the first place. It was one of those books dumped in this reading room near my place.

I think I was looking for a light read. And light it was. Too light it flew right by me.

I actually thought of not posting this up. But I read it - cover to cover, mind you.

I mean – Yea – Anyways.

"Truly is it said, there are no heroes who do not learn the emptiness of heroism before they die."

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:59:01 +0800

“Truly is it said, there are no heroes who do not learn the emptiness of heroism before they die.”

- “The Enchantress of Florence” by Salman Rushdie

"There is a weakness that comes over men at the battle's end, when they become aware of the fragility of life, they clutch it to their bosoms like a crystal bowl they almost dropped, and the treasures of life scares away their courage.

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:57:58 +0800

At such a time all men are cowards, and can think of nothing but a woman’s embaraces, nothing but the healing words that only women can whisper, nothing but the joy of losing themselves in the fatal labyrinths of love. In the grip of this weakness a man will do things which unravel his best-laid plans, he can make promises which change his future.”

- “The Enchantress of Florence” by Salman Rushdie

"For it cannot be called skill to kill one’s fellow citizens, to betray friends, to be without..."

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:54:00 +0800

“For it cannot be called skill to kill one’s fellow citizens, to betray friends, to be without faith, without mercy, without religion; by these means one can acquire power, but not glory.”

- “The Enchantress of Florence” by Salman Rushdie

"A woman's body was like that.

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:52:00 +0800

If you watched it carefully enough you could see how it moved to the rhythm of the world, the deep rhythm, the music below the music, the truth below the truth. He believed in this hidden truth the way other men believed in God or love, believed that truth was in fact always hidden, that the apparent, the overt, was invariably a kind of lie. Because he was a man fond of precision he wanted to capture the hidden truth precisely, to see it clearly and set it down, the truth beyond ideas of right and wrong, ideas of good and evil, ideas of ugliness and beauty, all of which were aspects of the surface deceptions of the world, having little to do with how things really worked, disconnected from the whatness, the secret codes, the hidden forms, the mystery.”

- “The Enchantress of Florence” by Salman Rushdie

"This may be the curse of the human race… Not that we are so different from one another, but..."

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:51:00 +0800

“This may be the curse of the human race… Not that we are so different from one another, but that we are so alike.”

- “The Enchantress of Florence” by Salman Rushdie

"‘If you were an atheist Birbal,’ the Emperor challenged his First Minister, ‘what..."

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:50:00 +0800

“‘If you were an atheist Birbal,’ the Emperor challenged his First Minister, ‘what would you say to the true believers of all the great religions of the world?’, Birbal was a devout Brahmin from Trivikampur, but he answered unhesitatingly, ‘I would say to them that in my opinion they were all atheists as well; I merely believe in one god less than each of them.’ ‘How so?’ the Emperor asked. ‘All true believers have good reasons for disbelieving in every God except their own,’ said Birbal, ‘and so it is they who, between them, give me all the reasons for believing in none.’”

- “The Enchantress of Florence” by Salman Rushdie

"...he was taught about survival,

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:48:00 +0800

…he was taught about survival, about fighting and killing and hunting, and he learned much else without being taught, such as looking out for himself and watching his tongue and not saying the wrong thing, the thing that might get him killed. About the dignity of the lost, about losing and how it cleansed the soul to accept defeat, and about letting go, avoiding the trap of holding on too tightly to what you wanted, and about abandonment in general, and in particular fatherlessness, the lessness of fathers, the lessness of the fatherless, and the best defenses of those who are less against those who are more : inwardness, forethought, cunning, humility, and good peripheral vision. The many lessons of lessness. The lessening from which growing could begin.”

- “The Enchantress of Florence”, Salman Rushdie

Saint Joan (G B Shaw)

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:46:16 +0800

This play by George Bernard Shaw was mentioned in Soe Hok Gie : Catatan Seorang Demonstran no less than 3 times.

There was a whole entry in his diary about this play. He was impressed by the points raised in the story, Joan’s patriotism and persistence towards her beliefs, also the political issues where he compared Joan to Indonesia’s first President, and stated that a hero is someone willing to retreat and be forgotten.

But out of all the subjects raised in the play, one that interests me most is about her belief and the voice in her head which she claimed to be of God’s. I couldn’t help but question isn’t this how most religions begin? A loony claiming to have received a message from God? Because that’s what I think of Joan every time she talks about ‘The Voice’, that she is a bit of a loony.

Soe Hok Gie : A reasonable man who in reason’s name took unreasonable risk

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:46:00 +0800

It was through “Gie” the film that I got to know Soe Hok Gie the first time, but he didn’t appeal to me that much then. I couldn’t relate that much. Several years after watching the movie, I came across the film original soundtrack and by this time I have already evolved a major crush on my country, and the song reminded me of Gie’s fight for Indonesia’s independence from its own leaders who were abusing the country’s potential (you know, same old, same old). It turns out there are a lot more for me to relate to Gie and I now adore him.

While reading the book, I took notes of the films and books he mentioned, the people he praised and criticized. It still amazes me the range of books he read. From R Tagore to Dostoyevsky to George Orwell, from M Hatta to Arifin C Noer to Asrul Sani. The list is ridiculous. No wonder has had such distinct principles of life and could not bear the thought of sitting quietly while a chaos is happening in his country, and everyone - if it weren’t for him – would just stood idly by. Which is why, as much as I adore him, I wouldn’t want to be him, it was just bizarre how he purposely carried the burden that he did since such a young age all the way to his grave. It was almost like he bore the burden of a whole country and I believe it is safe to say he carried pretty much the burden of human kind and morality, really.

“Di Indonesia hanya ada 2 pilihan. Menjadi idealis atau apatis. Saya sudah lama memutuskan bahwa saya harus menjadi idealis, sampai batas-batas sejauh-jauhnya. Kadang-kadang saya takut apa jadinya saya kalau saya patah-patah . Apatiskah atau Anarki. Moga-moga tidak menjadi keduauanya.”

“Karena mendiamkan kesalahan adalah kejahatan”

“Saya adalah intelektual yang tidak mengejar kuasa tapi seorang yang ingin selalu mencanangkan kebenaran. Dan saya bersedia menghadapi, juga ketidak-populeran. Ada suatu yang lebih besar : kebenaran.”

I decided to read his book because, after watching the movie again, and after some major ‘googling’, I know he had strong principles and explicitly provoking thoughts, which is just what I need to stay in track of, believe it or not, good thoughts. I spend most my days with someone who dictates and is a very dominant character but is a negative force – in my opinion, and if I don’t have my own strong principles it wouldn’t be hard for me to be influenced and in a few years time, be just like this person, and as cliché as it may sound, Gie changed my life. I learned from him how to be strong headed for good reasons, that it is alright to be a counteract, that it is fine to go against a force I believed to be wrong, and how to be that drop of oil in an ocean of water and still holds my shape.

To me, Gie lives.

Some quotes from the book (Soe Hok Gie : Catatan Serang Demonstran) :

“Yang tak tahan kritik boleh masuk keranjang sampah. Guru bukan dewa dan selalu benar. Dan murid bukan kerbau.”

“Orang yang berani karena bersenjata adalah pengecut”

“Jepang adalah tanah dan Barat adalah benih. Benih itu ditanam dan walaupun yang tumbuh pohon barat, Tapi pohon tadi telah mempunyai sifat2 yang khas jepang. Apakah Indonesia sekuat Jepang? Setanpun tak tahu.”

“Kalau Tuhan ada dan ia makhluk yang aktif maka aku kutuki Tuhan. ia bagai raja yang Mahakuasa, lalu dia cipta manusia-manusia, semuanya ini dan kalutlah semuanya. Dia seolah-olah cuma bergurau dan iseng-iseng. Mengapa dunia ada? Aku pokoknya menolak semua agama yang membebek. Bagiku Tuhan adalah kebenaran. Ia ada dan tiada. Ia terjadi bukan menjadi. Tapi bagaimana dengan manusia lain? Masa bodo.”

“Akupun tak yakin (pasti malah) tentang ke-tak-ada-annya nasib… Aku berpendapat bahwa kita adalah pion dari diri kita sendiri sebagai keseluruhan. Kita adalah arsitek nasib kita, tapi tak pernah dapat menolaknya. Kita asing, ya kita asing dari ciptaan kita sendiri”

“Sejarah dunia adalah sejarah pemerasan. Apakah tanpa pemerasan, sejarah tidak ada? Apakah tanpa kesedihan, tanpa pengkhianatan sejarah tidak akan lahir? Seolah-olah bila kita membagi sejarah maka yang kita jumpai hanya pengkhianatan. Seolah-olah dalam setiap ruang dan waktu kita hidup atasnya. Ya, betapa tragisnya. ‘Hidup adalah penderitaan’, kata Buddha. Dan manusia tidak bisa bebas dari padanya. Kita hidup dan kita menerima itu sebagai suatu keharusan. Tapi bagiku perjuangan harus tetap ada. Usaha penghapusan terhadap kedegilan, terhadap pengkhianatan, terhadap segala-gala yang non-humanis. Memag kita sadar akan kesia-sia-an itu. Kita tahu akan absurd-nya. Dan itulah hidup. Stand like a hero and die bravely. Aku kira dan bagiku itulah kesadaran sejarah. Sadar akan hidup Dan kesia-siaan nilai. Memang hidup seperti ini tidak enak. … Dan sejarawan adalah orang yang harus mengetahui dan mengalami hidup yang lebih berat.”

“Bagiku ada sesuatu yang paling berharga dan hakiki dalam kehidupan: dapat mencintai, dapat iba hati, dapat merasai kedudukan. Tanpa itu semua maka kita tidak lebih dari benda. Berbahagialah orang yang masih mempunyai rasa cinta, yang belum sampai kehilangan benda yang paling bernilai itu. Kalau kita telah kehilangan itu maka absurd-lah hidup kita.”

“Memang hidup ini sangat tragis dan kejam. Dan seorang pahlawan adalah seorang yang mengundurkan diri untuk dilupakan seperti kita melupakan yang mati untuk revolusi.”

“Beberapa bulan yang lalu Aku percaya sejarah adalah lokomotif yang dibuat manusia, tetapi manusia sendiri tak dapat menahannya. Sekarang aku lebih cenderung untuk berkata bahwa manusia disuruh membuat lokomotif yang tak terkendalikan dan terlawan oleh situasinya sendiri dan ia tak sadar”

“To be human is to be destroyed”

“Saya tak tahu masa depan saya. Sebagai orang yang berhasil? Sebagai orang yang gagal terhadap cita-cita idealisme? lalu tenggelam dalam waktu dan usia? Sebagai orang yang kecewa dan lalu mencoba menteror dunia? Atau sebagai seorang yang gagal tetapi dengan penuh rasa bangga tetap memandang matahari terbit? Saya ingin mencoba mencintai semua. Dan bertahan dalam hidup ini.”

“Bersatu hanya untuk bersatu adalah hipokrit”

“Man can be destroyed but never defeated”

“The Enchantress of Florence” by Salman Rushdie I...

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:46:00 +0800

“The Enchantress of Florence” by Salman Rushdie

I have only finished one of Salman Rushdie’s novel and that was Shalimar, which was so packed with action and drama, However, I did not enjoy “Enchantress of Florence” as much as I did “Shalimar”. Reading the synopsis and of course knowing Salman Rushdie from Shalimar, I kept waiting throughout the book for good kicks and kinks, there were some indeed but it just didn’t come with enough ‘umph’ and surprise factor like in Shalimar, to me it felt monotonous and in a way like a text book.

I read somewhere that this novel was actually the one that he did most and longest research for and I can kind of tell, it felt more like a series of events, like a history book with sappy soap opera drama.

But no way will this stop me from reading more of Salman Rushdie’s novels. This book still shows his superpower of story telling.

I am still to go back to “Midnight’s Children” though - god knows when. Tough read that one – I think.

swallowing hatchets, handle first

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 10:46:02 +0800

there is some place where he doesn’t recognize anybody’s voice,

and it’s here where he wishes he were right now.

(Anis Mojgani)

the trees all know which direction to grow

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 10:44:54 +0800

the axe sits in the stump

waits for a hand

the spoons sit in the drawer

waiting for soup

(Anis Mojgani)

“Over the Anvil We Stretch” by Anis Mojgani

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 10:41:00 +0800

There are the Spokenword poets, and then there is Anis Mojgani.

I don’t know how he does his thing - his play of words. His poems are always such a delight – that is whether I can decode it or not. He conveys an event by arranging the words so beautifully that it makes me feel like as if just a change of tone or a coma or a full stop would screw it all up and it won’t feel Anis Mojgani anymore.

Even his book’s dedication reads like a poem:

“for the magnolias of new Orleans

the honeysuckle on my grandparents’ walls,

and for sarah who helped find me

on days I wanted to stay lost”

I just adore him and his poems.

Junkyard Ghost Revival

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 10:36:00 +0800

I got this book and Anis Mojgani’s “Over the Anvil We Stretch” for Christmas last year, finished it in a week and only blog about it now. Not cool.

I still read both books when I am bored of whatever other book I was reading, Like with Pramoedya’s books there would be chapters about government and it could be quite a drag at times, and that would be when I pick up one of these two books. Also when I was reading Soe Hok Gie, which was funny because I noticed Soe Hok Gie too was a slampoet, listen to this and read this. How cool is that? Come to think of it, the poem in Ada Apa Dengan Cinta the film was definitely a spokenword poem, no doubt about it.

One of the reasons why I enjoy slampoetry as much as I do is because it comes with less drama but is still captivating. A mother could be reciting a spokenword poem when she’s reading a bedtime story for her child. It’s just like a lower note of classic poetry, more relax and laid back. In my opinion it really is simply a soliloquy, a monologue but what sets slampoetry apart from being just a monologue or a soliloquy is : the attitude.

For The People At Bookstore Readings Who Keep Asking Me Why I Still Slam Now That I Have ‘Real Books’ Out

(Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz)

Because the microphone slouches like a bad boy

whose neck I want to choke.

Because sometimes the poems punches its way

off my tounge, and other times it needs to be

dragged out by my ribcage by its hair.

Because I have said things in front

of a roomful of strangers that I would never

say to my own mother and for good reason.

Because I have heard poets say things

in front of a roomful of strangers that made me

pulse, made me sweat, made me want to push

further, risk everything, be that beautiful.

Because sometimes I have felt that beautiful.

Because sometimes I have felt ugly too

and it was okay.

Because I still have stories to tell.

Because I have had my heart broken.

Because I have had my heart broken and survived.

Because I have had my heart broken, survived

and someone told me the poem I wrote about it sucked.

Because I survived that too.

Because the bear hugs, because the uh-huhs

because of the venomous looks people give

to the guy whose cellphone starts ringing

Fuck you, Ashole! Can’t you see

we are listening to poetry here!

Because people are listening to poetry here.

Because there is poetry here, every cracked voice

every stutter, every stumble is poetry. Every

shaky piece of paper held by shaky hands,

every nervous laugh, every awkward pause : poetry

Every braided head, every untied shoelace,

every spilled beer, every Yo, this is first time I’m doing this,

every Man, it’s been a minute,it feels good to be back,

every time the poetsays, this is some new shit

and peoplein the audience lean forward like a dare,

like they are looking for a light,

And the poet’s flint be sparkling.

Because some nights I didn’t feel like it

and it seemed like those were the nights

i needed it the most.

Because I’ve won, and it didn’t make me

more of a poet

Because I’ve lost, and it didn’t make me

less of a poet.

Because I’ve cheered until my throat ran raw,

laughed and cried and fell on the damn floor

like fool, for poetry.

Because I am fool for the poetry.

Because of the poetry

Because this is poetry.

Musikal Laskar Pelangi at the Esplanade Singapore It started...

Sat, 01 Oct 2011 11:01:08 +0800

Musikal Laskar Pelangi at the Esplanade Singapore

It started off as a humble novel about a classroom of 10 students and a teacher with a strong passion for teaching. They struggled to get the education they thirsted for and so deserved despite being natives in their own land of birth Belitong, which ironically is a rich mining site. Their so-called classroom was as good as a goat stable and was in the verge of collapsing. Heck, their classroom was not even supposed to have started in the beginning because there were only 9 and the minimum number of students to start a class was 10, but of course at the last minute a kid enrolled and saved the whole troop.

With the novel, I had all the time in the world to follow along their journey, like riding a bike for 80 km to go to school while on the way crossing a river with crocodiles and competitions they owned against other schools and even their puppy love. I savour every moment with the kids with my imaginations running wild and free, I had the liberty of making my own crooked school for the kids, what they looked like, and since I am not familiar with the Island of Belitong, I – like all readers – had the liberty of picturing their surroundings. The beach they go to, the garden they often have their class in when their actual classroom was dripping water from the rain the night before, the Chinese girl Ikal fell head over heels with. And to me, that is the just one of the beauty of reading, I get to visualise what I read.

The novel was published in 2005 and obviously became a major, major hit in Indonesia. And in 2008 the same people who introduced me to Soe Hok Gie (Mira Lesmana and Riri Riza) brought the novel to life and made the film adaptation of the book. These guys, dictated the audience, who most likely have read the novel, with their own visualization. They forced me to put my visualization of the book to rest and I had to digest their version. Was I worried? Absolutely not. Was it worth it? YES. The movie clearly shows that they have a vision for the movie and just Refuse to settle for anything less. With their power of sound and vision, they successfully realised what I only visualise in my head, which was not even close to what they put on screen. I especially adore how they capture the island of Belitong, the purity of its nature and how they keep everything realistic, which I believe was the reason why I cried more tears than when I read the novel.

Was that it? Of course not. Mira Lesmana and Riri Riza just kept pushing their creations to the limit, ironically, with more limitations. With the film, they were limited with duration and screen size. There was no way they could adapt the whole book into a film, it’ll probably last a whole day or 2 weeks if you’re a slow reader like me. Then with the film there was the 2 dimensional factor and how they could only fit so much in a screen, compare to a reader unlimited imaginations. But guess what they are limiting themselves that much more and continue to make history in Indonesian Performing Arts scene by adapting the novel/film into a musical play. Yes, stage and live audience and somehow make their actors and actresses sing and dance live on stage while still keep the plot and still make me cry in duration of 150 minutes. They initially performed in Taman Ismail Marzuki, Jakarta in December 2010 and had to be back on stage in July 2011 due to high persistence demand, and finally they are here in Singapore to perform at the infamous Esplanade later today, tonight and tomorrow, as the apparently “First big-budget musical for Malay Audience” according to the Straits Times.

I am so prepared to be amazed.

“Junk is not a ‘good kick’. The point of junk to a...

Sat, 01 Oct 2011 10:28:57 +0800

“Junk is not a ‘good kick’. The point of junk to a user is that it forms the habit. No one knows what junk is until he is junk sick.”

This book convinced me even more that drug addicts are victims who are foolish enough to allow themselves to be purposely trapped as a victim. They need help, not punishment. They are punished enough for their foolishness by their junk routines. Their dependent on junk is already a punishment itself.

But that is until they decide to commit crime to stay a victim to junk, which will then make them a criminal.

I rarely enjoy non-fiction, and this is one of those few books.

And for some reason, throughout the book, I keep picturing young Anthony Bourdain as Burroughs.

“It is possible to detach yourself from most pain - injury to teeth, eyes, and genitals present special difficulties - so that the pain is experienced as neutral excitation. From junk sickness there seems to be no escape. Junk sickness is the reverse side of Junk kick. The kick of junk is that you have to have it. Junkies run on junk time and junk metabolism. They are subject to junk climate. They are warmed and chilled by junk. The kick of junk is living under junk conditions. You cannot escape from junk sickness any more than you can escape from junk kick after a shot.”