tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90786352012-02-07T18:05:27.067+08:00on life, love, the universe, and more...Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.comBlogger4211100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-3811005525227753022011-08-30T21:14:00.002+08:002011-08-31T20:54:19.510+08:00

"Sometimes I find it frustrating to talk to you. Half the time, I try my best to hold my tongue because I don't want to hurt you. At times, I don't understand how you can't see what I see, or feel what I feel. Perhaps it is the measuring of you against an impossible standard, the holding of past mistakes we all make that affects the present. This is my mistake, the mistake of a young man who

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-81239736637229269282011-07-24T14:36:00.004+08:002011-07-24T20:13:23.569+08:00

I had imagined writing about this. This very moment.I had imagined writing about a beautiful day, with beautiful weather, the warm sunshine coating us with its warmth, filling us with the kind of happiness that would temper the feelings of nostalgia, melancholy, perhaps even sadness, that resides in our heart.Whether I would indeed write about it is probably another thing. That had depended on

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-53165055585728140992011-07-10T01:03:00.002+08:002011-07-10T01:08:40.592+08:00

KL.The city of gods.****“Yeah, the radio’s been working recently,” I said, turning the volume up a bit. My little sister, down from Penang for the Bersih event, shifted comfortably in her seat; the alternative would have been yet another joke from me.We had been driving around Kuala Lumpur. She had come down here with my mother and stepfather. They had gone for the event itself, but had not

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-17008475902868002392011-07-09T18:03:00.000+08:002011-07-09T23:55:33.922+08:00

“It’s over, man.”Three words. That’s all it took for me to fully understand, a phone call that started without the usual pleasantries. Then again, there’s nothing pleasant about the ending of a relationship, even if it is something that’s becoming more usual than otherwise.I closed my eyes, letting out a soft sigh that confirmed my surrender. The letting go of the entire body to the universe, the

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-66404313082778777272011-07-04T00:24:00.001+08:002011-07-04T11:05:17.360+08:00

I’m not quite that big on trying out new technology as it comes out. I’ve stated before that I’ll try anything once, but that one time may occur quite some time after it has become a fad.“You have a lot of money, why don’t you buy an iPad?” my student once asked. She had brought in her own iPad, and I was just busy flicking through its functions. Having lots of money, of course, is a subjective

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-66527719969725336462011-07-03T22:12:00.000+08:002011-07-03T22:12:20.592+08:00

“Do you know how to take a dog out of a TNB substation?”It sounded like a bad joke, and my mind quickly traversed the possible answers, before giving up. “Well,” I began my reply, my fingers tapping against the keypad fast, but not so furiously, “I suppose you could climb over the fence and…get it out.”I had only messaged her to ask for her help. Producing a short film to be directed by a friend

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-50181311812865593962011-07-02T15:17:00.003+08:002011-07-03T21:15:54.507+08:00

As a whole, I personally think that the 1Malaysia concept is not a bad thing. As I drive further and further into the country, read more and more about the efforts done under the programme, I don’t quite disagree with its notion, and certainly the principles of equality and such.Neither do I disagree with its execution and existence. Some would say it’s a waste of money, an idea that is not worth

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-74533658202317517542011-06-30T14:58:00.001+08:002011-07-03T15:16:21.611+08:00

Sometimes, hope can be a cruel thing.In fact, it can be cruel many, many times, but it can also serve as a guide, a compass to your desires. A feeling that can help to enhance that which is already felt. If all goes according to plan, then it is a moment of joy. People like that, for the most part, having their expectations met and, in some cases, exceeded. That would be nice.That, however, is

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-16215893251427209982011-05-23T13:43:00.000+08:002011-05-23T17:54:25.322+08:00

History is a word based on the words of someone else.That may have seemed obvious enough, but I figured that it may help to shake the tree and start with something different, for once. For it is also the first time in a while that I have finished a book.The book in question is Chris Jericho’s ‘Undisputed’, a biography based on the years following his arrival in the WWE all the way to the Second

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-69818891786726540392011-05-22T21:36:00.000+08:002011-05-23T17:53:12.562+08:00

He felt the wind of the punch first, lightly warning him before it landed itself on his cheek with significantly less subtlety. Jayken staggered backwards; he had parried the newcomer’s attacks with grace and power, but this particular question had no answer.Certainly not one that could protect him.He shuffled backwards on his feet, trying hard to maintain his stance. A step outside the squared

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-5981344354786294052011-05-14T17:56:00.003+08:002011-05-14T18:02:37.261+08:00

We laid in bed together, looking over some of the videos that she had loaded on Youtube. She had previously talked about how some of her friends had received these videos; it feels as if more than half of our conversations are about television shows and films. She has a keen eye for both, and we’re not just talking about being a Gleek or watching films just because Johnny Depp is in it.Her mother

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-74437227575126100352011-04-24T12:59:00.000+08:002011-05-14T13:04:29.053+08:00

I walked past the streets of Vindaloo, breathing in the air as I did so. It wasn’t a particularly breezy moment, and neither was the smell particularly appealing, but there is a certain sense of identity that comes with the smell. I smiled; until someone get Smell-O-Vision just right, that will always be something cinema will miss out on.His footsteps aligned with mine, our steel-capped boots

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-19631063538952770422011-04-14T12:53:00.000+08:002011-05-14T12:58:29.721+08:00

I have a movie stub from a screening of ‘Master and Commander: Far Side of the World’. It was a film made by Peter Weir, and it starred Russell Crowe. My father and I went to watch it at KLCC, and immediately after that, we went to Kinokuniya and bought the book about the making of the film.This was almost ten years ago. I could just about make out the writings on the ticket stub. It has faded

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-47322901802980041062011-03-30T11:00:00.000+08:002011-04-09T11:06:25.768+08:00

“Stick to your own kind, man.”Friday night, Bangsar. Dinner at one of the restaurants that sells noodles somewhere inside Bangsar Village 2, though for the life of me the name of the place escapes me. I did remember that we were allowed to scribble on the paper cloth that covers the table. A novel idea, one that my friends and I embraced as many highly-educated urbanites would do: writing the

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-37000343509066124802011-02-09T23:28:00.002+08:002011-02-10T01:45:30.511+08:00

I mentioned in passing to someone that I managed to needle some money to make short films for my students. I didn't think that I would get it, mind you. I figured that it's one way to teach kids what to do and how to do it. When it comes to filmmaking, there's many who still dismiss it as a form of fancy. What would you do with a film degree? That question is, I would argue, linked with what

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-1275597315518681052011-02-08T17:27:00.000+08:002011-02-09T13:11:28.901+08:00

Kye stepped off the ramp almost as it finished its descent, touching the red earth. The winds of the valley swept up the dust and sand, making it nearly impossible for him to see with his own eyes. He had wrapped a shawl around his head, the turban-like concoction looking like an onion plonked on top of his head. A white onion that will get very red, very soon.Kye had on his Nari-V goggles,

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-21673070832346570662011-01-01T00:15:00.000+08:002011-01-02T01:35:28.324+08:00

Bridget is now 17; Cindy is on the phone with her constantly…I paused, and took that in for a moment. It is the back issue of Time magazine that piled up when I was in Korea; September 8 2008, evidently, still had John McCain very much in the thick and running of things. The article, entitled Mrs Maverick, was an in-depth interview with Cindy McCain, John’s wife.The first sentence of this post

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-34593809451617858092010-12-29T23:12:00.000+08:002010-12-30T00:14:32.815+08:00

Outside my room, the Twin Towers stands majestically in the distance, gleaming against the painted night of the sky. All around, scores of others compete for attention, shining forth their lights and colours. Theirs is a futile effort; the UMNO building, with its red neon-like signs, spells hope and despair (sometimes both at the same time), while distance favoured the Matrade building this time.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-43609508998197774832010-12-18T00:09:00.003+08:002010-12-18T00:15:17.347+08:00

The breeze came into the room unhindered through the conditioners. It was uninvited, but not unwelcome, lending its coolness to the occupant inside. Not that Kida was complaining much. It did much to cool down the heat within her, the sadness, rage and fury all rolled into one.When the news reached her last week, it did so in the most inconspicuous of manners. The confederation, citing budget

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-89030239843896660502010-12-17T23:47:00.001+08:002010-12-17T23:49:25.148+08:00

“No, we don’t need to get the Mac to do that.”“Are you sure?”“Yes! We just need a computer, and the programme. We can do it on your home computer if you want.”“What about the quality?”“No, the quality will be similar. The difference is not really worth spending the extra cash on.”Silence. “I think it’s best if we have another computer to do the editing.”****The above was a conversation with

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-23888288456730634322010-12-17T23:12:00.002+08:002010-12-17T23:16:33.108+08:00

"I don't live a lie. You have to understand that people who choose not to discuss their personal lives are not living a lie. That is a presumption that people jump to.""Look, at the end of the day, people have to respect people's differences. I am different than some people would like me to be. I just don't buy into that the personal can be political. I just think that's horses--t. No one's

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-66712036878695980012010-12-14T04:22:00.004+08:002010-12-14T15:07:03.231+08:00

Something moved my heart as I drove near the mosque, Masjid Wilayah. It is situated along my route, its perimeter an island of holiness of its own.“Island of holiness of its own,” I whispered silently in my heart as I drove in; I have a tendency to play these things through in my head, so that I’d have the chance to pause, rewind, and make some corrections as I go along. It didn’t seem so

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-60493931855952896882010-12-14T02:01:00.003+08:002010-12-14T02:08:51.141+08:00

You were a terrible F1 team owner, but your battles to keep the Arrows team alive was very much at the forefront of my memories as I got into F1 by the end of the 1990s. Despite the small budget and limited technical abilities, the gorgeous black-and-orange Arrows punched above their weight enough times to impress. It's a pity you drove them to the ground afterwards, but thanks for the memories,

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-43265216912023949362010-12-08T09:22:00.005+08:002010-12-08T09:34:50.179+08:00

“But you never said anything.”The wind of the night chilled his skin sufficiently. It wasn't too warm, or too cold. Life on Aura is like that; the roughest areas can be unimaginable to some at the lower levels, but get high enough, and you can get high on life.The sights, too, could have been one for sore eyes. Jayken's eyes were certainly sore from the lack of rest. Earlier, he had felt them

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-70464689672116686692010-12-05T21:14:00.002+08:002010-12-05T21:17:18.920+08:00

“Turn in here,” my father instructed, somewhat sleepily from the passenger seat. I couldn’t blame him, for it had been a long day capped off by a long journey. Leaving UiTM together, I assumed the role of driver, though if the truth must be pried out of me, I felt equally tired.“OK,” I said, stifling a yawn as I signaled my intent to the other drivers. The reassuring indicator clicked softly in

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-89285225387953358062010-12-05T18:44:00.002+08:002010-12-05T18:47:31.144+08:00

His head was still ringing as he stepped into the hotel room, closing the door with a resounding slam. His right hand reached for his temple, where the would-be assassin had karate chopped him with enough force to knock out a normal man.Fortunately for his good self, he was no normal man.He could hear the shower running once the ringing inside his head subsided. She must’ve gotten straight into

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-30016132495132139472010-12-03T02:32:00.001+08:002010-12-03T02:34:41.731+08:00

So it's Russia, then.My initial reaction was one of some measure of joy. I have to admit, it is an incredibly ambitious decision by FIFA to have selected Russia as its next host for the FIFA World Cup. The federation has been on quite a roll, selecting a number of newbies to host arguably the biggest sporting event for a number of tournaments now. Following on from South Africa this year, let's

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-9689103722493953082010-11-29T22:12:00.002+08:002010-11-29T22:17:39.559+08:00

"Because I am Japanese I have small eyes - so I can't see the others guys."Kamui Kobayashi, Sauber F1 racer, when asked what his secret for overtaking is.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-76744767209582937402010-11-29T21:50:00.001+08:002011-02-16T16:18:47.162+08:00

Jayken put down the fresh plate of fruits on the coffee table in front of them, before plonking himself straight into his sofa. As he felt himself exhaling the fatigue out of his body, his muscles now in tune with his mind and spirit, Dallas and Kida did not wait for an invitation, each grabbing a piece of fresh strawberry. Dallas’s arm didn’t leave her as they did so, moving forward in motion

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-39065252225078808452010-11-20T01:24:00.002+08:002010-11-20T01:28:31.415+08:00

"If sexuality is used to sell cars and cookies, why not use it for social and political projects. Sometimes you need to show your breasts for ideological reasons." Anna Hutsul, leader of Femen, a Ukrainian NGO.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-63984097985072450532010-10-30T01:22:00.000+08:002010-11-20T22:00:03.036+08:00

"You gave me peace in a lifetime of war." Achilles, Troy.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-31064498513838799242010-09-15T01:39:00.004+08:002010-09-15T02:07:45.224+08:00

It seems that it has been a long time since you were truly able to remember my name. Perhaps it has been even longer since you can recall, off the cuff, whose son I truly am. And espite the fact that it has been a decade since I left school at 16, you asking whether I am still doing my SPM for time to time never did annoy me.“Dia dah tua Hakim, faham je lah...” was the words of advice from Acik,

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-13949357414344402942010-09-09T00:56:00.000+08:002010-09-14T01:57:50.592+08:00

A long drive affords you many things. A five-hour trip gives you more; it gives you a solitude you won't find elsewhere. Everywhere else, there are obligations and responsibilities that should not be avoided. Things, of course, could be put off or delayed, but sooner or later you'd have to get to them whether you like it or not.A long drive, however, provides a sense of respite from the weary

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-50275207630653395162010-08-30T15:24:00.000+08:002010-08-31T15:39:30.033+08:00

“Just go in first, I'll come in after you.”We were on the way to paying for the electricity bills. Power had inexplicably been cut at home, and time is of the essence; paying for it right about now would entail a penalty of only a few hours without the life-giving currents. It says something that human beings have become so dependent on electricity merely to continue living (you won't necessarily

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-67557115963331069772010-08-27T04:20:00.000+08:002010-08-31T15:24:28.487+08:00

I was waiting in front of the Maybank. The time was 4.30pm. It is not quite the end of office hours, but during the month of Ramadhan, most offices finish around 4 instead of 5. The logic being that since people don't actually take lunch breaks, they are entitled to leave an hour earlier, the hour that would have been spent on lunch.Nevertheless, not all companies adhere to this. Or rather, not

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-45381751031027555992010-08-17T08:23:00.004+08:002010-08-31T16:50:15.446+08:00

The scenery flashed past them. It's not much of one, to be honest: merely white stars flashing past against the blackness of space. Space was once the most romantic of frontiers, its unknown quantity and quality enthralling generations. Just like everything else, though, once it is attainable, it is no longer appreciated as much, if at all.Airus Kelic never lost his sense of wonder for space,

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-54854124252697595312010-07-12T00:09:00.002+08:002010-07-12T00:12:36.348+08:00

Sometimes, I look at the sun, and I can't tell whether it's rising or setting.But just like everything else in life, a little bit of time brings a lot of clarity.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-28616942329635717052010-07-10T17:34:00.004+08:002010-07-10T21:59:52.296+08:00

“Come on, dude, you've got to try it out.” That was me trying to convince my friend to go and watch the Korea – Uruguay match with me. He was in two minds, but I was somewhat determined to bring him along; with the exception of the Spain – Switzerland match, our World Cup-watching experience thus far has been nothing more than four guys and McDonald's McChickens at 2AM. Being the half-Korean that

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-38955985655231946282010-07-05T12:00:00.000+08:002010-07-05T00:01:38.903+08:00

It was the way you played with your hair when you were nervous. It was the way you smiled when you were happy.It was the way you turned and looked to me when you weren't sure of quite what the world was coming to. When the rain outside seemed to go on forever, incessantly, a story with a beginning, middle, but lacking the end that makes it one.It was the way you touched my hand when we were

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-62733620420898210682010-07-04T17:00:00.001+08:002010-07-04T17:03:16.798+08:00

I hate that word with a vengeance. Does that sound sensationalist? A little too much, a little too strong to be taken without water? Perhaps it does. Perhaps it is only through this way that I can properly express my disappointment and anger at those who have appropriated the usage of that word to suggest the hands of Allah working their magic when all they really want to do is to mask their own

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-52397320365437452062010-06-27T02:07:00.008+08:002010-07-02T00:24:36.712+08:00

There's something that's not quite right about this year's F1 season.There's plenty right about it, of course. At the top of the field, we have a number of genuine championship contenders going at it hammer and tongs. That's the minimum requirement for competitiveness, despite the technology and the promotion that proclaims the excellence of whatever the science boffins behind the scenes were

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-56877549040710535052010-06-23T02:12:00.002+08:002010-06-23T06:20:27.314+08:00

"I don't think that Jesus was teaching Christianity, Jesus was teaching kindness, love, concern, and peace. What I tell people is don't be Christian be Christ like. Don't be Buddhist be Buddha like."Dr Wayne Dyer, self-development author.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-58985951053647138852010-06-17T23:38:00.003+08:002010-06-18T09:10:41.232+08:00

There are no soldiers here! Dallas rushed down the hallway, back where they came from, cursing at himself as he did so. He had already commanded his men to move back, to fall back to their ship as quickly as possible. Their footsteps echoed, metal bouncing off the metal corridors, mingling incestuously with the alarms blaring over them.Their entry had been spotted, and the red flag has been

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-42871689667942422852010-05-15T10:15:00.004+08:002010-05-15T10:25:22.118+08:00

I looked around the room, taking in the history of it all. It is a relatively small dormitory room, though it is slightly bigger than the one I had in Korea. There, four guys would share their lives and laughs together for four years. Here, my little sister wouldn't quite share it with other guys, and it wouldn't quite be for four years either, but she'll be here long enough to have left her

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-18657142948386997572010-05-09T15:26:00.007+08:002010-05-18T03:07:53.633+08:00

It was a shock, a visual statement that reverberated to the very core.I walked towards the kitchen, passing by my mother's room along the way. At that moment, she decided to open the door to have a chat with me. I had triggered the proximity alarm she had armed, and though nobody in the house was quite asleep yet, it must have been something of an irritant, at least. I haven't mentioned the

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-39535011809803731632010-05-04T03:40:00.004+08:002010-05-04T13:27:01.574+08:00

"Listen, you'll be fine."The night's clouds gathered above me, though for now at least, they lay unmoved, unstirred by the events below. My friend was driving the car, while his housemate was in front, half-heartedly engaged in a half-hearted effort to discuss the directions of Jeonju. We were on our way to my friend's friend's house, who decided to christen their house, and meet me for the first

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-75348010665998211062010-05-03T00:17:00.007+08:002010-05-03T23:55:52.857+08:00

I arrived slightly late at the mosque. It didn't really seem to matter; it's a Friday, and as ever, the place is packed to the brim with Allah's followers (and random Koreans taking pictures. On some days, you'll even find TV crews doing some filming), but there's always enough space if you arrive in time. Time was when I prayed in the parking lot, fulfilling my duties on the tarmac that has been

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-47816541164308844962010-05-02T04:38:00.004+08:002010-05-02T05:06:31.376+08:00

It's the end of a dream.Never has such a sentence been made with such resonance. Dreams, after all, are transient in their own ways. It does not have a measurable meter, nor is it physically grasped in the same way that you and I do. Reach for your dreams, aim for it, but of course, within the physical world, though those are the words that may, from time to time, ring within our ears, it is nigh

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-85026491385985481012010-04-16T02:04:00.005+08:002010-04-17T03:29:14.798+08:00

Watching Al-Jazeera recently, I am reminded even more about the current 'crisis' that Christianity (as a whole, I'm tempted to say, but perhaps it's more limited to Catholics?) is facing. I am referring to the recent revelations of sexual abuse by respected figures within the church, and the apparent attempts to cover them up not only in recent times, but also over the past however many years.To

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-9437802625121039372010-04-15T02:30:00.003+08:002010-04-15T03:05:06.397+08:00

I waited patiently in line, my mind and thoughts kept pretty much to myself as the couple in front of me fumbled with their money, machine, and eventually their respective transit tickets. Whistling excitedly (or at least, that's what it sounded like), they grabbed their tickets and moved away just as quickly. Next to me, other people were lining up for their own tickets at their own machines; it

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-67176509599529896192010-04-07T13:01:00.001+08:002010-04-07T15:29:08.158+08:00

Done.The letters scrolled upwards as I flicked the mouse downwards, finger firmly pressed on the left click button. The words almost raced beyond my own sight, so fast was the moved, as my hand shook slightly at the words.Done.Well, it doesn't quite say done, but it does mean that. It also means that the future doors will be opened that bit brighter, that the gamble I took paid off, that the hard

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-25962027386692563722010-03-30T20:08:00.000+08:002010-03-30T23:56:37.294+08:00

"There is no "homogeneous" history, and there never will be. History is heterogeneous, and the truth only appears by finding the best evidence and doing your best to develop an interpretation of that evidence. You then publish your book, and await the judgment of your peers—historians who go through intense training and peer review at every stage of their careers. After that, you don't care what

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-31633748167046300072010-03-29T13:02:00.004+08:002010-03-29T17:37:01.849+08:00

In light of the recent start of the Formula 1 season, I have to applaud the results and efforts of the Lotus F1 team. I had written about this particular venture sometime late last year, and while I stopped short of completely admonishing the team's entry for what I feel are reasons that don't quite fit with Formula 1, as it stands, the team has done quite a good job thus far.It has to be said

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-5305275658291395892010-03-29T13:00:00.001+08:002010-03-29T13:56:28.350+08:00

It was a long, long hour.I am in the computer room, trying my damnest to log in. However, I couldn't, I suspect, because of the flood of people from all over the country who are also trying to log in. It is frustrating, and somewhat nerve-wrecking. It's the proverbial minutes and hours eating away at you, and in this case...the digestion, is really, really slow.My blood begins to boil. I hear to

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-82016387159557114502010-03-16T23:51:00.002+08:002010-03-16T23:54:39.618+08:00

"But everyone on the pitch was Japanese and that felt a little weird. Your teammates, the opponents, the referees--that was strange."Shunsuke Nakamura, who returned to the Japanese league after eight years in Europe.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-32669005152978094862010-03-15T10:34:00.004+08:002010-03-15T11:33:53.954+08:00

"Hyeong!" I saw my producer seated halfway across the hall in the cafeteria. He's with someone else, I noticed, as I rushed over to him. I politely introduced myself to him, and turned to my producer."I need to get on with the production," I started. "We need to do the telecine as fast as we can. But," I emphasised, "Tony suggested that perhaps if we skip the keycode telecine, and jump straight

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-14340506855324933582010-03-13T22:08:00.004+08:002010-03-13T22:17:48.427+08:00

It is a sinking feeling, one that seems to reverberate around the empty shell of my body.How to explain this? How explain and to let others understand the sense of shock and change to the system that is personal?In truth, perhaps it is not a reflection of it itself. Perhaps, more to the point, it is one of what had happened before. Even more accurately, what didn't happen before. What had never

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-15170517744303669762010-02-13T03:09:00.004+08:002010-02-13T04:41:36.016+08:00

The world is sweet in the heart, and green to the eye; and verily God hath brought you, after those that went before you: then look to your actions and abstain from the world and its wickedness. Nabi Muhammad (S.A.W), prophet.****It was a collection of sayings by Nabi Muhammad, collected byI have a tendency to pick up little things here and there. I especially love leaflets and booklets. These

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-80267330299433191312010-02-09T01:48:00.003+08:002010-02-09T01:52:05.555+08:00

"I have a lot of favourite directors, and some of them do their best work first. But where do they go from there? Since I started out as not a great director, I only have one way to go, which is up. And I think I'm getting better." Joel Schumacher, filmmaker.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-64028671858983018852010-01-26T14:12:00.002+08:002010-01-26T14:29:51.321+08:00

"In making this story, then, I was torn between creating a dramatic short film and re-telling a history as it happened. It became neither, merely a wish for a dream that could never be."Fikri Jermadi*'Fly Me to the Moon' will be screened at 12th Rolling KARTS School of Visual Arts, Film Department Graduation Films Festival. It'll take place at Lotte Cinema, Hongdae. Tickets are free, on a first

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-55651670577645979252010-01-25T12:52:00.002+08:002010-01-25T14:09:14.234+08:00

In 1994 Jung married a man from Pakistan. At that time ‘international marriages’ were very rare. They have two children.In an article from the Chosun Ilbo in 1997, it is clear that Korean society makes a distinction between ‘white’ migrants and those with darker skin. There are many examples of this difference in perspective. For instance when a complaint was filed against a security officer, the

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-53358427449555414872010-01-23T16:00:00.005+08:002010-01-23T20:29:53.843+08:00

I opened my eyes, and it was a world different from what I had expected. Warmer, colder, both at the same time. The kind that makes the hair at the back of your neck stand. Somewhat familier, the atmosphere, not entirely different from what I had experienced before, but it is such experiences that expectations are placed and based upon. And based on that...it was different from what I expected.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-84330323829386149242010-01-05T16:24:00.001+08:002010-01-05T16:30:43.422+08:00

The Raptor made its way past them, over their head, and beyond. It disappeared into the distance, unlike the deep throbbing that Lee felt within his heart. No, his chest. His chest.It was much bigger than that.“So what about you?” Kara's voice brought him back to reality. He turned, and saw her still standing there, looking tired, dishelved...complete. Like there is nothing else for her to do.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-85387924592637429342010-01-05T15:41:00.004+08:002010-01-05T16:27:45.454+08:00

With the dawn of a new year, the old one fades into the distance. The new became old, current became outmoded, present became past.There is one thing that I have always, somehow, been amazed with: the passing of time. It wasn't a matter of looking at the clock or the watch and beholding yourself to the amazement that occurs. No, rather, it manifests itself in a lot of the little ways, the mini

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-47320211225852174722009-12-30T19:58:00.002+08:002009-12-30T20:01:37.199+08:00

I stepped outside of the house, feeling somewhat bored by the warmth inside. Now there's an idea: being bored of the warmth. What an ideal it is to have right now, as the snow is falling, the temperatures are decreasing, and the bitter cold sets in. Near the end of semester, everyone wants the editing room with the heaters; people huddle around the single heater that is available in the

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-41647688058640934722009-12-14T00:36:00.003+08:002009-12-14T02:04:30.981+08:00

“You're tempting fate.”She put down the shot glass, giggling as she did so. Lee looked at her with amusement, but one could say disdain was hiding itself somewhere within that. The smile, unconscious, was a given; Kara was well and truly drunk.At least it would appear to be so. Her eyes weren't particularly red. Cold, perhaps. Blue, certainly. But red? The tell tale signs of a person, a woman,

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-23528106183768267202009-12-11T04:25:00.003+08:002009-12-11T05:03:31.587+08:00

Lovely little place, this is.I took a sip of my tea, handling with care the beautifully adorned cup. Its gold motif was striking, yet subtle. I especially liked the thin little line running across the rim. It gave off a whiff of elegance, style, class. Much like the Armani suit the adorned my hard body, much like the haircut that screamed 'NEP golden boy', or the glasses that shouts

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-9194632971132655992009-12-11T03:02:00.000+08:002009-12-11T06:54:57.695+08:00

"Sufficient time is rarely taken to study light. It is as important as the lines the actors speak or the direction given to them. Light is a treasure chest: once properly understood, it can bring another dimension to the medium."Sven Nykvist, cinematographer.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-22841445022793032342009-11-28T05:50:00.004+08:002009-11-28T12:46:28.111+08:00

I recently attended a conference that looked at the multicultural aspects of certain societies and films from that society. The day before that, a couple of films, namely Amir Muhammad's 'The Last Communist' and 'Gubra' by Yasmin Ahmad, were screened for the general public. I didn't quite manage to make it for the screenings, however. "Have you seen it before, though?" asked Amir after the

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-39970236786703749922009-11-27T02:22:00.006+08:002009-11-27T04:29:14.726+08:00

“Is this something that can push things forward?”I put the script down, being careful not to get it smudged by the dew marks from the ice blended Mocha. It didn't seem like a big challenge, but somehow, surrounded as it were by boxes of cigarettes, a couple of lighters, and a near-overflowing ashtray, it became more challenging that I thought. I made it through, somehow.“Can you use this to get a

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-70667163852254864022009-11-20T03:41:00.003+08:002009-11-20T03:53:19.223+08:00

“Chot nun!”It was light, it was soft. You could barely make it out against the dark exterior of the night. I had to strain my eyes to even make out the rough outline of each of the fallen. I stepped out further, reaching out with my hands. Sometimes, that which cannot be seen, can be felt. I extended my fingers, and tried to feel for it.Late night/early morning, depending on your interpretation.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-24484793885498247062009-10-30T03:44:00.000+08:002009-11-20T03:51:21.071+08:00

alone she sleeps in the shirt of manwith my three wishes clutched in her handthe first that she be spared of painthat come from a dark and laughing rainwhen she find lovemay it always stay trueyes i beg for a second wish i made toobut wish no moremy life you can taketo have her please one day waketo have pleaseto have her please just one day awaketo have please just one day awake*Lyrics to '

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-84469095203444776062009-09-24T06:02:00.005+08:002009-09-24T06:08:55.177+08:00

Many words have been written of the entry by the Malaysian government of a supposed national Formula 1 team beginning from next year. My initial instinct, though I have a tendency to support such attempts, is one of fear and apprehension. Fear at the lack of knowledge by people high up in the food chain, and apprehension at the team's potential success. I will not, therefore, attempt to

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-4413917846435667592009-09-21T02:36:00.008+08:002009-09-21T03:15:28.882+08:00

“Fikri! FIKRI!”I look up from my camera. The wide, open, green/yellow spaces of the valley will have to wait for now. My producer, Won Jang, has found a house that may well suit the film I'm about to make. He beckons me over; in the not-so-far distance, my cinematographer, Tony, plays with his Leica. I curse silently, and walked with a slightly heavy heart. The house was great, but that wasn't

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-84982121866126590372009-09-21T01:58:00.003+08:002009-09-21T02:44:16.683+08:00

Dear Malaysia,In writing this letter, I find it hard and difficult to put into words what it is that has been brewing in my mind and heart. Recently, on the 16th of September, we celebrated the 46th year of your existence, Malaysia. It is certainly a fine and long period of existence. Older than me without question, you are in many ways the embodiment of my emotions, of my hopes, my fears and my

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-71414276185856137012009-09-17T02:16:00.005+08:002009-09-18T20:46:48.840+08:00

“It's not for me anymore.”We were sat at the Baskin-Robbins in Hongdae, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city on a Friday night. It wasn't a bad view to be enjoying: the speaker system was playing some of the latest pop songs, while the ladies of the night were certainly a sight for sore eyes.“I just don't feel like reviewing films anymore.”I turn to him, digging another spoonful into the

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-92117252739391288722009-09-10T02:36:00.001+08:002009-09-10T02:36:00.447+08:00

"If the temple can be relocated by 300 metres, why not five kilometres?" Azman Abdul Majid, SS23 Shah Alam resident, on the proposed temple being built in his area. I guess they'll have to settle for 800 meters instead.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-32108793893383370832009-09-09T22:45:00.002+08:002009-09-09T22:51:06.936+08:00

Sometimes, it is the simplest things that escapes us. The truly trivial aspects of life that we pay not attention to; rather, we only come to realise it once the obstacles were laid upon by the powers that be, or once it has been cruelly taken or snatched away from our grasp.Easily, it can be taken, for our grasp is the reflection of the perceived importance we ourselves laid upon it. It is a

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-32808837707406144432009-09-08T16:45:00.004+08:002009-09-08T16:57:39.815+08:00

*This is a true account from one of my film buddies, chi too. I am reposting it here from Facebook, warts and all, because I think it's a tale worth knowing. dear friends and friends of friends,as some of you were aware, me and my bicycle were denied entry into the LRT today. allow me to just tell this chronologically in point form830AM as usual, i tried to get on the LRT in taman maluri,

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-20193174740709026772009-09-07T01:19:00.004+08:002009-09-07T01:25:58.236+08:00

Recently, on the 31st of August, Malaysia celebrated its 52nd Independence Day, commonly known as Merdeka in the Malay language. The number of years attached to this is, to this day, somewhat disputed in some quarters, given that Malaysia in its current form did not exist until the year 1963. That particular year saw Singapore, Sarawak, British North Borneo and the Federation of Malaya come

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-25982353267016743242009-09-04T12:31:00.000+08:002009-09-04T18:21:02.976+08:00

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-7726239055447326892009-09-03T17:30:00.000+08:002009-09-04T01:19:15.498+08:00

Friedrich's greatest accomplishment was his ability to turn landscapes into a medium of physiological and spiritual biography. Here, he includes his own portrait within his landscape as a lay figure seen from behind -- a device intended to invite the viewer to look at the world through the lens of the artist's own personal perception. It would not be an exaggeration to take this picture as the

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-72144219835758709222009-09-02T17:45:00.000+08:002009-09-02T23:44:30.870+08:00

It was with some shock as I read of the news of a protest in Malaysia, which seems to be the 'in' thing for people back home. For those not in the know (though if you do keep a keen eye on Malaysian news this would not have escaped your attention), last week a sizeable number of Muslims finished their Friday prayers and made their way to the Selangor state secretariat building, in order to make

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-90026492574055604522009-08-29T17:26:00.005+08:002009-08-29T18:45:17.383+08:00

"I'm starting to realize that no matter if they say film is dying--no matter if they're telling me you have to do this, you have to do that--I think they're wrong. I think the more you risk, the better. Did you like the Darren Aronofsky film, 'Pi?' Because it risked everything. What the hell is it? I mean, who came up with this thing? The more you risk the better. You just have to find someone

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-34995368752401207022009-08-18T02:38:00.005+08:002009-08-18T02:49:32.855+08:00

...came true.My heart stopped for a moment at 1:23. :)*Film for the day: 'Palermo Shooting' by Wim Wenders.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-21042185130079246812009-08-16T20:52:00.003+08:002009-08-16T21:37:43.259+08:00

"Art is a microscope which the artist fixes on the secrets of his soul and shows to people these secrets which are common to all." Leo Tolstoy, writer*****What is art without theory?This is a loaded question in itself, one which I shall explain the context of in a more elaborate manner by the end of this post. This is not meant to be a usual one, nor will I hope the impact will pass in moments.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-73361690894407138402009-07-31T21:53:00.003+08:002009-07-31T22:14:31.547+08:00

...what's with all the people dying?Michael Jackson. Henry Surtees. Yasmin Ahmad.And now Sir Bobby Robson. Though he has been unwell, the word 'shock' cannot even begin to describe my reaction.I just don't know what to write anymore.Farewell, Uncle Bobby. May you rest in peace.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-75076338454340508162009-07-30T16:07:00.007+08:002009-07-30T21:29:19.415+08:00

Endure.What was it Alfred had said about enduring?He leaned forward slightly, stopped only by the pain in his back. His muscles screamed with pain, a reminder that no matter what he thinks, he is only limited by his humanity.Humanity.Is that why his heart is hurt so?He leaned back, and closed his eyes. He concentrated, focused...hard, on his own body. There's a broken toe somewhere on his right

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-78435200650281973142009-07-26T02:25:00.004+08:002009-07-26T02:31:20.036+08:00

"What wisdom descends when I pause to listen to death?Nothing really.Except, my beloved’s eyes dance when he tells me about his day,and I must remember to kiss thembefore they finally close."*Taken from "Like Clockwork" by Yasmin Ahmad. I also wrote about her here.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-13082718237772609132009-07-24T10:08:00.001+08:002009-07-24T23:36:35.893+08:00

"What should I do?"The rain lashed the Samsung Hospital, showing no signs of letting up whatsoever. I had recently arrived a few moments ago with some other friends, and met one of my classmates at the entrance.My friend took a drag of his cigarette, and threw the remainder down unto the ground, stubbing it out with the bottom of his sole. He was smartly dressed in black; tie, pants and jacket

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-90391611839715732132009-07-20T00:46:00.000+08:002009-07-20T20:15:56.121+08:00

Sometimes, it is just a matter of things getting out of hand.It's an illusion, a false statement, a fake belief to even think that we had the power to begin with.That things were in hand right from the start.And it's not so much a matter of the spiral that threatens to get out of control. It's not a matter of the mistakes made, or of the second chances to be given. It is, in fact, something to do

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-87617119357050267322009-07-19T05:54:00.006+08:002009-07-19T06:35:53.359+08:00

I can't help it.For all of its flaws, I've seen 'Transformers 2' twice now (click here to read someone else who also saw it twice), and I still get my kicks out of it. One of the reasons for that is the soundtrack. Watching it in the cinemas, I find myself thinking how similar it is to the first one. Not that it is a bad thing, no, but I figured that perhaps there would be a bigger progression

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-76547652750356176662009-07-19T02:00:00.003+08:002009-07-19T02:56:39.044+08:00

I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. The air inside the room had been slightly stuffy, though it was cool; the air conditioner was powered to the tilt. It was cool, but somehow it wasn't as conducive to the mind as I had thought.It was a Korean class for foreigners, held at the mosque in Itaewon. Itaewon itself is a strange creature, the holiest site in Korea for me and my fellow ummah is

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-27748074436473710672009-07-18T01:45:00.002+08:002009-07-18T02:01:32.258+08:00

Sometimes, words really can't describe how you feel.No, it cannot describe it accurately. But by golly, no one has stopped trying before.So what is it that I feel right now?It is an inordinate amount of pain. Inordinate, partly because it is not my pain. Not my battle, not my war. But pain, because it beats away at your chest. I was tempted to say smack, but that word hints at the sound, rather

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-72907046716224586172009-07-16T00:44:00.002+08:002009-07-16T00:46:01.922+08:00

Coming soon.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-74499306836575528482009-07-12T20:32:00.003+08:002009-07-12T20:36:46.225+08:00

SCENE 13 – INT. CHAN-WOOK'S ROOM/MORNINGChan-wook is already sitting down comfortably in his own bed, twisting the newspapers between his own fingers. He rolls back and forth, without a care in the world.Ji-sung enters, bringing his guitar with him. He sits down on the floor, in front of Chan-wook. Chan-wook stops his moments of self-actualisation upon realising that his brother is already there.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-81967179692571087582009-07-12T20:28:00.002+08:002009-07-12T20:32:25.575+08:00

It was a moment that happened somewhere and somewhen in the recent past. In the middle of regurgitating once again the script that is to be my graduation project, I find myself floating the thought in my head that this is not exactly what I want to be doing at that moment. Further reflection revealed itself to be something that was a little more vague, though as much as I can deduce, I was still

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-2805179411278109922009-07-09T08:53:00.004+08:002009-07-09T09:41:22.295+08:00

Kye woke up, sitting erect in his bed, sweat almost dripping from his forehead. The shock had not worn off, not just yet, his heart beating a million miles a minute. It took a moment for him to come to his senses, and realised that his lips are quivering. It took him another to compose himself down, before he was able to quieten them down. They resisted, initially, but eventually he managed to

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-20730279646328966462009-06-09T06:28:00.002+08:002009-06-09T06:31:16.066+08:00

There once was a former Costa Rican footballer who worked in a post office. Unfortunately for his boss, he would only stamp the postmark on the letters once, no matter how unclear it may be. It would infuriate his boss, since some of the letters would be sent back to the post office due to the unclear chop.One day, his boss decided to do something about. "Paolo!" he barked. "We're getting letters

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9078635.post-77189009086495269952009-06-06T12:23:00.004+08:002009-06-07T01:28:36.656+08:00

“When we ask these people to come and give their statements they do not turn up. “When we go to their homes during the day, they are not there. Therefore, we decided to go at that hour, as that is the only time we could get hold of them.”Kuala Selangor police chief Supt. Ibrahim Chin, on why a police raiding party "stormed" the house of a 58 year-old grandmother at 1am.

Fikrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17385624097465928342noreply@blogger.com0