Friend of mine at Starbucks asked me if I have a blog. I told him I am part of the Jeremiah's collective. A cult? he asked. Nah, just a bunch of pseudo-literary-socio-linguine-high falooting-philo-historico-bullshittin-bunch-of-assholes with nothing to do. He said I am writing rubbish. No disagreement. It shit. And it's the blues. Nice day to drink cofee. Today serving is Sumatra - full bodied brew. Yesterday I was at the Starbucks at the end of the universe in Midvalley. The Starbucks that don't want to be found. Tuck inside the corner of Borders, Garden. They were serving Rwanda. Rwanda, the land of genocide. Time now, Rwanda is the flavor of the month.
In another joint where great steaming old school coffee are served, I met Dukes. and La Tey. and the techno remnant Warlock. Dukes, he's now the punisher. He's wrestling with kids and telling them the new old history of what has became now. Time was Tambirajah was the dude with the notes. I devoured the F1 to F3 syllabus like history was the new agenda for the generations of tomorrow. Then came the F4... Effeminate boys who can't sing but have hair bangs and acne proof skin. Here history ends. Mass prepubescence swooning occured among asians females who never studied the history of Robert Plant. They were all conned into thinking that Jerry and the boys were actually desirable. Time was, Plant was squuezing the lemon till the juice ran down his legs... I mean whoa! F4 as History? They WERE history as soon as they appeared on the scene. Teeny pop has a short life span. History today is all blind reading and even if kids today actually read, stuffs like Led Zep legend remains unread and consigned to certain memory graveyard. Only those who remembered can still say "Squuuuueeeeeeze me Babeeee!!!" So back to Dukes and his history class. Hope the kids make the score in their exams.
HIPPOS IN KL
"I am the lizard king, I can do anything" Where there's total freedom to be, there's no guilt in being. (Jim Morrison, The Doors.) I used to read the free expression of the rock shaman and played THE END with all the lights out. Letting images of the subconscious encroach the waking reality of the darkened room. All juvenile stuff from the imaginations of a youth liberated from the chains of structured learning. When you are young and stupid, anything is permissible. When one become older with ageing and regulations, the limits are more thickly drawn. Structured behavior began with the age of education. One learns to step in line and follow the classroom decorum. One learn the syllabus and follow the instructions. One come under the figures of authority who implant following behavior. One become the crowd who follows. One learn guilt. One become sin conscious. One dies.
So every now and once comes a Morrison who defies convention and awakens a passion once forgotten. Dukes knows passion unbridled. La Tey is a walking sperm donor. Warlock is just waiting to ejaculates. (He just need to find the right soundbites.) Beyond the appearance of farce, Walt Disney's Fantasia explodes on the wide screen. Most of us were still wet in the nose but who can forget the dancing hippos with their tu-tus? History was written on that day. One, classical music is cool. Two, fantasy need not just be dragon and dungeons. Three, hippos do dance. Go ahead, let the shaman feed your dreams. While Dukes waltzes his way into hippo-fantasia-ballroom-arkana. (If Dukes can appear as the punisher, it's not difficult to imagine Dukes in pink tu-tus.)
EPILOGUE: It still pisspouring outside.