Sunday Walk

Why I will not walk with Hindraf on Sunday.

Because I Can't.

Kahkahhh...

Km/j...finally done and over with.

Update

Ok, I didn’t get to inform everyone about my being a guest in a tv show tonight. But the response I received was overwhelmingly huge, even smses coming in before the show ended. I swear I didn’t expect anything like it. I felt like a local celebrity, only bigger. Kahkah…

But really, it wasn’t something to shout about. Just a dude on wheel parroting what the host had briefed on before the show went on air. Not that I have never been on tele before but this was the most significant to date.

I remember the first time being on peti televisi was during a live Malaysia cup game between Selangor and Perak back in the early 90s, me and a few Subang Jaya lads were interviewed by Zainal Abidin Rawop during the halftime. Rushed back from Merdeka stadium and quickly switched on to the 12 o’clock news and voila, managed to get a glimpse of our silly selves, clad in red and yellow of Selangor tormenting the Perak fans with the word ‘Tempoyak basi’ which was obviously referring to their then veteran midfield maestro, Azizul Abu Haniffa.

As it turns out, it was our first ever tv appearance without having to put the necessary foundation make-up thing.

Back to Km/j, my dad the Man U fanatic and Pinky the football-hater accompanied me to Angkasapuri’s IBC (International Broadcasting Center) and was straight away wheeled in, got the make-up artist do some touch-ups and I was on. With 3 cameras facing you, how not to get nervous? Hey, I could have said more with a lot more confidence but my handicapped nerve gave in and let me down. And this was the same nerve that has stopped feeding me with sensations in some part of my damn freakin’ body. So damn you, stupid nerve.

Oh…anyway, It was embarrassing. Mom was excited that she had to inform every single contact she has in her phonebook. Dad was cool but could be cooler if he was a Gooner. And the two lovely kids making their cameo appearance were my Teves-wannabe nephew and pretty-as-princess niece, the apples of my eye.

Well, as I said in the original posting, glad I’ve got the monkey off of my back. My sincerest apology to those I didn’t get to personally informed, and those who called, texted sms and left a message here, I thank you all, family members and blogger friends mostly, for the support given and wasted 30 minutes of your life watching a big, fat cacat fella being grilled by a crime-analyst cum pianist. I promise to reply to each and everyone of you the soonest.

Oh boy, talking about being a has-been celeb. Not sure about the attention, which was massive but sure would accept such supportive friends with arms and heart wide open.

Thanks also to Kamal Affandi hashim and Fara the producer and Jas, the…other fella and all the Km/J crew.

I wouldn’t close the door to re-appear on screen but give me the role of Maya Karin’s pontianak molest victim and I should be on a roll.

Time to light up one, fine stick of Monte Cristo…and a pat on my back.

Original posting.

Pheww…I needed that really. No, not to have my face on tele but that particular show have been acting like a monkey on my back and now I’ve finally got it off. Firstly, people kept asking if the show would be on, for three weeks on the trot since it was canceled for well, 3 weeks running. And secondly, being on tele viewed by other people can be the most embarrassing thing to happen to anyone, especially when that someone does not have that face of, commercial value, so to speak, or to simply put it, a monkey face. So it was kind of a relief. .

Will get this entry updated in due time. Thanks all.

DWTS II

Can’t think…and…type. Must drink…more...vitagen prescribed, or lungs…will…collapse.

Ok, I’m just being a little over-dramatic. But If you guys noticed, haven’t been online since I posted the last entry. Reason being is, I was (still am) down with very high fever and spent the past 2 days or so in bed mostly, and looks certainly to remain there for the next few days.

I am so weak to the bone with my body aching all over. Weird dreams seems to appear and woke up sweating and thirsty at 2am. Then I threw up at 3 in the morning and purged in my boxers like 3 hours later for two days running now. It's just horrible.

But with this little bit of energy left in me, I decided to get online and reply to all the response from you lot. I can only thank you all for hopping over to this very humble blog and share your thoughts and two sens worth.

For now though, it’s time to get back into my crib and get a bit more rest.

Thanks, friends.

Lazy Picture Show

Somebody, some animals, somewhere out there must be wondering why I still haven't had my picture up to go with the comments I posted in other blogs.

Here's a mad-man's confession. I tried a few hundred times but still can't get my freakin' face proudly displayed. I'm a quitter so maybe I should just throw in the towel, start writing a poem or two and turn queer.

Turd.

Freddie Kruger-like Mad man: No kidding, I was clad only in my sarong below. Dare me and I'll prove to you.

KM/J kanceled.

Here’s the thing. I was supposed to be featured in Kamal Afandi’s KM/J program tonight (15-nov) but for some weird reason RTM1 canceled it and I believe it was replaced by some forum thing.

Darn.

But fortunately enough, I didn’t spread the word around telling the world my crippled face gets to be on television. Hey, that’s a typical reaction you know. Telling your family even as far as Uruguay, friends, foes, fuckers and shit that you’re about to be viewed by many, although I doubt many of us tunes in to RTM anymore these days.

KM/J is basically a show related to road accidents, where victims are fortunate enough to live and tell the tales of their respective mishaps in hoping to deter other road bullies from breaking the traffic laws and break their spine in the process. My buddies were featured in earlier part of the season so It was something like don't drive under the influence or you'll end up crippled like us kind of thing.

The episode where I’m in, it will be a non-sappy shit stuff as I’m supposed to show the viewers there’s life even after being confined on wheelchair. Not a problem there. Hey, I do have some life still, to live to my fullest. Things like, getting married?

Hah! Yeah, yeah…that crops up again. What’s new, I know.

Ok, how about things like, doing a Scott Weiland, performing unplugged show on wheelchair, or simply to just bungee-jump? Only in my case I imagine it would be bungee-throwing instead. Kahkahhh…another lame crippled joke.

But seriously, I do have some stuff I’d love to do and hopefully I get to live long enough to wheel them through.

If only I’m rich, all my dreams would have been materialized by now. but you cant call yourself rich if you don’t do what the stinkin’, cigar-chomping rich fellas usually does…make the poor, poorer.


Up yours, I'm outta here.

Romanticism: Roses and all things Sissy

Somebody said to me the other day that he’d give anything just to get out of his marriage. That came as a surprise to me. I mean, hey what's the deal with that, man?

Apparently he claimed to have chosen the wrong woman as the main reason given. Sure buddy, sure. And this was the same fella who whispered to my ears only several years back that he’d climb the highest mountain and swim across the deepest ocean just to ask her hand in marriage. Now this?

While here, reporting live from the deepest of the heart ( deeper than the septum), I just wish we could switch positions, but with our respective spouses of course. My point is, here I am wondering what marriage life is all about when somebody wish he’d never had been in one. I tried to empathize with him, imagine what in the name of shit could he be going through now but as much I wanted to, I still believe getting hitched is a wonderful, flowery thing.

Yes, I could be wrong but after much thought, I’m sticking with what I had believed in all these years. Marriage is about everything rosy, romantically in order and all the corny shit. I mean, my very reason for saying this is, while going through thick and thin, ups and downs and all the turmoil, you’re in it together. Isn’t that what should only matter, two love birds enjoying the torrid ride? Sure, thorns can be harmful but roses stands out. No flying plates and glasses needed.

Ok I may not have tasted being a beer-bellied hubby as yet so I mustn’t speak to soon and shut the hell up, so they say. But when I’ve gone through hell for more than ten long years, what could possibly be worse? Even death wouldn’t be as bad I imagine. Here’s a preview of what hell-on-earth’s like. Its when you first learnt that an important part of your body are no longer effective, and you’re condemned to be a crippled for the rest of your life. That’s flameless hell for you. Try break your knee-bone, get it cemented and live life as a temporary cacat fella and you will get my point. So save all the shitty stuff and keep it to yourself.

The thing is, I don’t think I should feel discouraged by the slightest of distraction and hey, am fully determined to see it through and experience one myself.

So If given a magic black-hole, I’d be the first to jump in and travel to the future, look for the first pak lebai (kadi) available, lafaz akad, swap rings, kiss the bride on her forehead and start the reproduction process immediately.

Ok that was silly but no harm in over-fantasizing. I mean, If only we could find an easy escape route and get out of deep shit by just a finger snap away, life would be smooth-sailing. But without any of the challenges, that’s not worth calling it life.

I believe in Allah, and He, who had put me in a situation just to get my will tested, it was also Him, who gave me another ultimate trial and an opportunity to prove the success story of the first mountain-climbing feat wasn’t a fluke. Like it or not, without a magical finger-snapping, I am game for it.

Now though, not wanting to give people the impression it was written by a sissy, I end this entry with something very manly-stuff.

…I’m all psyched up for Arsenal’s away to the Mardejski stadium for a crunch with Reading. Ehem…yes, yes…no more roses nor daffodils and feminine-like gay stuff, but rather a tough-tackling, artistic, total-football thing.

Yup, its something in this order. Football, food, girlfriend. - end.

'Allah will not put his hamba to the test, if the hamba is unable to cope with it'.- Zakhir Mohamed.

Of Myth and Cacat...and Turd.

All right. I think we’ve had enough of rock & roll stuff, for now at least. Let’s get into something less serious than that. Marriage.

Just the thought of it can be dreadful. Not that I have never wished to but as everyone may have figured by now, getting hitched is harder than I anticipated, especially when you’re a freakin’ cacat on a freakin’ wheelchair, as I found out apparently.

It’s that age-old myth, you know. The rural myth, where guys on wheelchair are as good as mentally-retarded and better off to be left in the desert waiting for vultures to have a meal out of our useless limbs, or something like that. This, should have been buried deep like decades ago. I mean, to think that one’s brain is situated somewhere along the thoracic spine, now that’s real cacat for you.

So anyway, somebody told me that marriage isn’t always a bed of roses and blabla and all the garbage. Tell me something new. But what makes people think marrying a crippled will only result in misery while marrying able-bodied men promises eternal bliss for the bride-to-be? Another stinking myth that should have been long flushed down the sewage system, let it rot and remain there together with other shit.

Not that I’m pointing fingers at anyone in particular but if only they, whoever hay they are, care to listen, that ought to pave some ways and perhaps something rational would come out of it.

Its just a typical discrimination thing you know.. To them, being confined in a wheelchair can only mean that fella is a gone case.

Didn’t it ever cross their mind that an able-bodied husband is capable to suddenly turn violent and start to kick, punch-drunk and flying head-butt the hell out of his wife’s poor ass? This may be an isolated case but still the possibility is there. I sure have heard it before somewhere. Oh, and what do you know, that really happens in our supposedly caring society and not just some great-grandmother’s mythical tale.

Somebody should be thankful if I were their son-in-law. I mean, hey, I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, I cant kick, I’m not KJ and I don’t go screwing around. In fact, I have tons of love to offer. And on top of that I don’t sit around begging for money and food.

In terms of procreation, what makes one think I cant get a boner? There you go. Another sewer-material myth. It could happen to even a healthy young man. Lets put it this way without elaborating much. On my wedding night, I know I’ll screw up and proud of it.

I have never asked for sympathy from anyone but I’ll make this an exception. We’ve been together for almost a decade and the only obstacle comes from someone dearly to her. I beg them to give just that little bit of sympathy that’s still left in them.

I need solution and I need it fast. Eloping with some dopes in the trunk is totally out of the question. To us, marriage is still about happiness, albeit the not always a bed of roses thing. We’re looking at something of a long-term commitment and to go behind the back of those who are concerned just for instant happiness is unthinkable.

Hmm…

Not quite sure if this would work because all these while I doubted about his existence. Never crossed my mind I’d turn to him when i'm down and in need. But in these trying, tight situation, desperate times call for desperate measures. So if you can hear this from wherever you are…

Please save our soul, Superman!