A ponder...

If you cannot be a poet, be the poem. ~David Carradine

Me..

I missed u,
Not you, but me,


I missed ME

Pretty in Pink..

I don't celebrate Valentine's Day BUT....

Why I am not into internet chatting in the 90s (Part 1)

He's not the Messiah - he's a very naughty boy - Monty Phython quote


On an internet chat room circa 1995...

Reza aka Boy wonder : Hey cutie

Hotgirl : Hi :-)

Boy wonder : Its always hot when youre around

Hotgirl : hehe

Boy wonder : Have a boyfriend?

Hotgirl : No...you?

Boy wonder : I hv lots of boyfriends..lol

Hotgirl : Yr a naughty boy...

Boy wonder : Naughty boys get spanking..

Hotgirl : :-)

Boy wonder : :-)

Hotgirl : asl?

Boy wonder : 27/m....you?

Hotgirl : 14/f

My visitors..

I don't belong on this earth. I always feel out of place...like a visitor - Hattie McDaniel

I put a page counter on my blog page to register page hits...like most bloggers do. I don't understand why the hits got higher AND/BUT almost nobody commented anything.
So I tried running another counter for 3 days to see where my visitors are coming from...

Above is the 3 days result.

Damn..I better mind my language ;-)

The Longest Journey..

A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions - Oliver Wendell Holmes

I try to eat roti canai maximum twice a week. The reason is that I am trying to stick to a more healthy diet which consist less of harmful LDL fats. Low density lipoproteins are abundant in the extremely unhealthy mutton curry that I usually take with my favourite morning roti canai meal with. Normal people just take dhal....not me unfortunately. I just have to take it a few steps further in the wrong direction.

That however is not the story that I am trying to relate right now. It is about the roti canai person that makes my meal around twice a week.

I am a regular at a mamak stall near my office. The shop is famous for its nasi kandar and the owner owns 4 shops in and around KL.

I am quite close to the owner.

Getting an invitation to his daughter’s wedding kind of close.

I am beginning to get irritated with one of his staffs whom is the principal roti canai maker. See, this guy for ages seemed to be delaying the making of my roti canai to my obvious dismay. I usually gets my order a full 10 minutes after ordering. Some customers who came AFTER me was always served first.

Lately, it seems to be getting worse.

It is bugging me.

So, instead of complaining to his boss and possibly getting the dick-head fired, I take it that he just doesn’t like me. I am not a man whom turns the other cheek BUT life lesson rule number 324 vehemently states that : Never ever ever piss off the person whom is making your meal esp. In a restaurant.

Having worked part time after SPM in a restaurant and knowing what a chef can do to your meal behind your back, I knew the rule that was applicable in 1985 still stands in 2009.

So I suck up my fate like a good little boy does. Quietly.

So this morning, which is my roti canai morning, I sat down and ordered my customary teh tarik, mutton with mutton curry and one roti canai. One of the staffs took an already prepared roti canai and proceeded to walk towards me. The roti canai maker quickly called to the staff and spoke a few sentences in Tamil. The staff stopped, made a u-turn and returned the plate back to him.

He then proceeded to make a new roti for me.

More customers arrived and were served. I am made to wait yet again.

I started to pay close attention to what the roti canai maker is doing. Taking the round fresh dough, he pounds it, spreads the pounded dough and started folding it.

Nothing new there, but wait...

He actually lets my dough sets for a full 4 minutes before spreading it again and putting the dough on the hot plate.

So, by doing that....I figured that my roti canai dough gets a further 4 minutes of aeration for the yeast to do its job. The dough rises more (by expansion of carbon dioxide due to the respiration of the yeast) which translate to a more fluffier and softer roti canai.

Damn it!!!! My roti canai is custom made. No wonder it is always late.

HE WAS DOING ME A FAVOUR and I was the idiot.

He doesn’t hate me...he actually likes me.

So, on 2 eves before my birthday. I have learnt 2 life lessons.

Sometimes, it is better to wait for something and never pre-judged a person. We all heard and knew this before but sometimes, in the course of one’s hectic lives. We soon forget.

We forget that we are conscious beings. Our minds, conscious of itself is eager to experience reality and sometimes comes to the wrong conclusion. Whilst it is easier to just fit in life’s model handed down to us by our parents. It is more prudent to stop and ask ‘Why’.

A conscious mind must question, question and question. It is the beginning for the quest of knowledge. It is not just the destination but the journey itself. Surely, the longest journey one makes in this life is the journey inwards. The journey into one's own heart. The last journey before the ultimate journey.

One of my favourite movie scenes is from the movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (I actually saw this movie nearly 10 times), in which the lead character played by Matthew Broderick says, ‘Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around, you might miss it’.


I learned that at 41...imagine what I missed the last 40 years?

The Pill..

My twin sister always told me to grow up...act your age.

My friend Zahir often repeats that too..

I can't..

Why..??

I've taken the RED PILL...that's why.

How deep is the rabbit hole..?

There is no spoon and there is no rabbit hole...

Summer of '83

I was in form 3, JB.

The school was English College or EC now known as Maktab Sultan Abu Bakar or MSAB.

I loathe the new name. Sounds like a teachers training college.

I would until today refuse to called my old school with any other name except EC.

I had a clique of friends whom I always hang around with. Sal*******, Re***, E*** and Zai******.

Sal*, was the musician and also the joker among us. He played the organ since primary school, drove his mom’s car without a license, likes electronics and the only one among us that actually married his girlfriend from school (he actually met his wife in kinder garden). As far as I can tell he was the only one from school that actually listens to smooth jazz. He does not have a curfew hour at home and can come and go at any time to my obvious jealousy and envy. Though he likes music and have a sizeable music collection at home, I have never seen him dance. He once took a picture of a pilot ejecting from a plane that was featured in the Singaporean NST. He bought an expensive camera lens with the money he got for the spread. My twin sister calls him weird because he sometimes wears a motorcycle helmet while riding a racing bicycle which he meant as a joke. He normally picks me up from home during weekends in his mom’s car. Only once we were stopped by police because we made a hasty turn near my house when we spotted the patrol car. We were let off with a stern warning. The after effect was only days, before long we were back driving around JB without a license, this time with no more hick ups. My theory was the police was busy stopping bikes, they don’t stop cars. Next time, you want to ride a vehicle without a licence, choose a car.

Re*, is a son of a prominent government servant. Shy and curious. Since his dad is rich, he normally pays if we hang out and I remember at one time brought me and several friends to dine at a club where we can order anything except the lobsters. I ordered a steak. His house was also the venue for 2 of our dance parties that lasted till 1 am, all expenses paid. I just have to bring the music, my ass and some girls. My mom until today still thinks I was at Sal* house, doing school work.

What she doesn’t know doesn’t hurt her, I guess.

He also likes fishes and has several aquariums at his house. He could name at form 4, Latin names for numerous fishes. Re*, Sal* and me shared the same interest in photography at school. Sal* and me would often skip class and hide in the school’s photography club darkroom. Re* always the law abider stayed behind. We would often make up fake wonderful stories to tell Re* about the adventures we had while skipping class but he never once took our bait. We had several theories about the reasons but later unanimously agreed that Re* was just too chicken shit to skip class. The philosophers were correct, you can bring a horse to water but you cannot make it drink. Re* unfortunately was the obstinate horse.

E***, has several brothers and sisters. It was usually hard for me to tell whether he was joking or serious. He loves Michael Jackson (while I love Rick Springfield) and always clowns around with the crotch pull and other moves. He left our group at form 4 to go to a boarding school. He likes photography too. He owned a Yashica FX-7 while I had the FX-3. Re* and Sal* had bigger budgeted Nikon FA and FM2.

Zai*, was a kampong boy transposed to a city. We called him Zorro because he walks with a limp as a result of childhood polio. He has a good heart and was always on the receiving ends of our cruel jokes. We were pigs, we know. He almost never followed us during weekends or to hangouts because he stayed quite a distance away from school.

I have kept in touch with everyone now except Zai* whom still in JB. Everyone is married and with kids.


Nothing much has changed except for a few grey hairs.

Me, The Anti-Hero

Anti hero...is a protagonist who lacked certain virtues of a traditional hero and uses methods that are antithetical to normal heroism.

Me.

When I was small, everyone wanted to be Superman. I wanted to be Batman. My idol, Bruce Wayne aka the Dark Knight was a genius, rich, flamboyant, handsome but also flawed. Greek tragedy type of flaw. Aristotle coined a term for this kind of flaw, hamartia. He wrote it in Poetics which focuses mainly on tragedy. Not exactly a preppy pick-me-up Oprah book club kind of book.

Who can blame me? I was born during the counter culture revolution in the 1960s where avant-garde stereotype of heroes are replaced with the more street smart ones. There is no knight in shining armour and bullets does not ricochet of the bracelet of sexy wonder woman.

Out Lynda Carter, Enter Angelina Jolie. Yes, the heroine looks cool smoking.

The kid in front of me, couldn’t be more than 11 years old stared at the box I am holding. Yes, it is the limited edition Neil Schon guitar for the PS2 game, Guitar Hero. And yes, it is the last box the store has currently. The manager told me that he has back orders for another 20 units and the one I am holding cost RM150 more on ebay.

Too bad, all his father’s money could not help this kid get what he craves for. And that teary eye trick won’t work on this anti-hero. Maybe in his adolescent, when the girl that he wants or the expensive sneakers that he craves for fail to materialise, he will have a flash-back on this moment and cope with his failure. Maybe it’s true after all..

You must be cruel to be kind.

‘Uncle, uncle’ he calls out ‘Can I buy it from you?’

The audacity of the kid calling me uncle, we are not even related. Heck, the kid is not even malay.

‘No’

Out John Wayne, Enter Clint Eastwood. Yes, the anti hero looks cool with a stubble.

Go ahead, make my day.

Making Cafe Latte at home

Since my maid ran away 4 months ago and I started making my own coffee. The first thing that I noticed was the sub-standard nescafe my indonesian maid made for me for breakfast. Actually I knew it was bad, I was just too lazy to do it myself.

Paying close attention to Starbucks barristas (a fancy term for the person making the coffee for you), I found out that I was able to copy the making of Cafe Latte without the use of the expensive expresso maker, so I can have a Venti Cafe Latte at home minus the bill.

Ok..since almost nobody here grinds their own coffee beans and use instant coffee, I recommend you use Nescafe Gold. Why..? Because the coffee taste smoother and not made here with cheap coffee beans, that why. Alternatively, you can use the many types of grinded coffee beans you can find in the supermarket. And no...you cannot use old town coffee for this, nor kopi cap kapal laut because it will taste different. Why...? Probably because of the way they ferment and roast it.

First step since you do not have the milk steamer, use the microwave to heat your milk. Use normal fresh milk or in my case, the easier Dutch Lady fresh milk in milk cartoon. Starbucks use this too. Since the milk is ultra high temperature treated, you do not have to store the unopened milk in the fridge. Once opened you have to keep it in the fridge for storage. Heat the milk on high temperature in a mug for 2 minutes. In Starbucks they use a steamer to heat the milk till it is froothy and hot. The milk should be near boiling when this is done. Milk cannot be lukewarm for this.

Next, preparation of the diluted coffee or expresso as the mat salleh called them. Put a heap of coffee (2 heaps if you need a double dose) in a glass cup and pour near boiling water into it. Coffee is best diluted in water around 95-98 degrees. Since I have a water pot which I set at 98 degrees, this is easily done by me. Stir it. Do not be stingy with the coffee or else your coffee will taste more milky than coffeeky. Do not add instant coffee directly into the hot milk mug because coffee needs to be dissolve in WATER for it to give out its flavour.

After stirring, quickly pour the expresso into the hot milk and stir vigorously. In Starbucks, the steamer will cause the milk to foam, here we do not get the foam. I tell people that Italians drink cafe latte without foam so this recepi is for italian cafe latte I guess ;-)
They have foam so that they can put some latte designs too...you know for aesthetic purposes.



Your coffee is near completion. Just add sugar and if you have some cream on top of your coffee. Wallaa...you have yourself a wonderful cup of Italian Cafe Latte. It is best served during breakfast to give you your morning dose of caffeine.


Bon Appetite...