Things I Want

Here are a list of things that I want:

1)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
2)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
3)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
4)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
5)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
6)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
7)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
8)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
9)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami
10)Kafka On The Shore, by Haruki Murakami

That's all, can I please have it now?

Kafka Dreams

I was awoken by my mobile phone's alarm clock at exactly 3 am today when it rang bloody murder. The reason for this ludicrous behaviour was for, ironically, I needed to film an even bigger alarm clock - the venerated great drum of the Wat xieng Moane temple, one of the 32 drums (every temple has its own drum) that reveberates simultaneously in this little 1 kilometer peninular - that strikes every seven days during the full moon, half moon, and dark moon at 4 am in the morning.

The filming was, for want of a better word, awe inspiring. However, it is 4 am in the morning and despite the sound of the great drum still resonating in the space between my ears, I still need my sleep. I said goodbye to my anthropologist friend, whom we shall call Associate Professor Fifi (due to her French connection, and the fact that she really is an associate professor (something i found out today) who is helping me out in this film. From hereon referred to as Fifi) and returned to my room to sleep.

Then the said incident which inspired the title of this entry happened. I had a Kafka dream.

The details was such that I was in Yangon, Burma for the very first time in my life (note this is a very important element, that I am in Burma for the very first time). It was the end of my time in Yangon and the time has come for me to leave. Unfortunately I am an hour short of my flight to Kathmandu, Nepal and I am still not at the airport. So I rushed my way there in hope of boarding this plane though I know very well that I will not be able to board this flight. Suddenly, on the way to the airport, I passed by an awfully familiar grocery store, and the storekeeper said 'Hi'. I went off my vehicle and returned my greetings and realized that I've been to this stall a million times. I Then realized that this is not my first time in Burma.

I woke up.

In A Luang Phabang State Of Mind

I've been told many times that there are many more places in this world than Luang Phabang. It is thus unfortunate that most people are fools (possibly, me myself included).

In what ways is it possible for me to explain to them that this is the place where my heart really belongs, and when one's heart is possessed by a certain entity, one would never cease to draw himself closer to it. I am amazed at how despite being in a land so far away, I can still walk down the streets and not feel like I am in a foreign land at all.

How did this familarity brew when my total existence here at most consisted no more than a short parenthesis in this infinite macabre of a novel that is my life. Even I fail to understand, how then do I expect a fool to do the same.

Do I long to seek these answers or do I rather choose to stay here and romantisize the idea of this enigma.

If only the heightened sense of clarity that fills the air here would be of help.

Where Is My Flying Car

The 21st century has come and is scheduled to stay for another 92 years (if everything goes according to plan). Unfortunately the following items still do not exist...
- flying cars
- floating cities
- teleportation devices
- food capsules
- flying cars that fit into a briefcase
- robots that do all our work
- jetpacks
- effective totalitarian governments
- etcetra

I am utterly disappointed. I want to wake up to the theme song of 'The Jetsons' every morning.

Ricochetted off Phnom Penh

2 days before my intended departure to the wonderful land of indo china, my dad admitted himself to the hospital because his liver was acting up on him again. Gasppppp! Horror! major decisions need to be made as the doctor also told us to 'be prepared for the worst', but a through diagnosis on his actual situation can only be made the following day as he will be receiving a blood transfusion and his condition needs to be stabilised before anything conclusive can be said. Therefore any decisions (on my part) should be made only when a proper diagnosis is done, this decision is made alot more difficult by the fact that I am supposed to be travelling with a friend, whom we shall call 'mimi' for now (well, in her blog i am referred to as 'gigi' which makes us 'gigi & mimi: adventure drama queens'.

Saturday came and the doctor's diagnosis was that my dad is on the road to recovery and would be discharged on monday. My mom felt that I should go ahead with my plans, and she insisted that i carry on no matter what. I on ther other hand decided that I would come back first thing when necessary.

So off I go on Sunday, off to the beautiful land of indochina with Mimi. We landed in Phnom Penh with a great sense of relief as both of us desperately needed this trip as we are going through a time of confusion and is in need to the heightened sense of clarity that I usually find in indo-china to think things through.

It was all rah rah rah and ha ha ha from then on as both me and Mimi (that sounds so super narcissistic... me me me) turned out to be wonderful travel partners and I am really comfortable with her. I believe we brought the best out of each other, though Mimi realized that she swears alot more with me around... fuck, how can that be.

until....

On monday nite at the internet place (a good thing is that we are both internet junkies, so an hour on the internet always follows our nights of food and gallavanting), I received an e-mail from my sister claiming that everything is not as it is perceived to be (especially to me). Apparently my dad took a turn for the worse on sunday morning and my mom mandated that my sisters hide that from me just so that I will still get on that plane to Phnom Penh. I was throughly pissed off, and to a certain extent, I felt betrayed. However my sister claims that the situation is just bad... not getting any worse, nor better...it just stayed 'bad' to a certain extent. Unfortunately having been deceived once left me with very little trust with the people back home. I was furious but unfortunately the situation calls for more panache and getting upset at my mom now is not really an option. Paranoia grew and I was going nuts... however I felt that Mimi does not need to know yet (though telling her the truth is inevitable as it is only fair for her to know my real situation)

Over lunch at a really decadent restaurant the following day, I popped the situation (sans getting down on my knees and ring) to her. However my decision then was to take things easy and see what happens. Life goes on. In lieu of my dad receiving 3 pints of blood the other day, I donated blood to the local children's hospital and Mimi, albeit her fear of the needle decided to do it too in solidarity of my dad's situation (Mimi, if you are reading this, I just want you to know that I was throughly touched by your gesture. I've restrained myself from expressing this gratitude in fear that i would go nuts)

On Wednesday, I received a phone call from my uncle (a reliable source of information) which explains the actual situation which is not pretty... kidneys and liver failing, minor brain damage and minor stroke. I went nuts. My first reaction was to pack my bags, go to the airport and buy a ticket for the next available flight to Kuala Lumpur. That was about 10 am when I found out. Fortunately I did not head to airport right away as I found out the flight was only at 430 in the afternoon. That leaves me with much time to say goodbye to Mimi, have lunch and help her draw up a solo plan on what she can potentially do next. We said our goodbyes in hope that a rondezvous would be possible later in Luang Phabang.

Arrived in the airport at about 2 pm and bought my tickets for the 430 flight. Major drama, I went berserk in the airport and the wait and flight home became one of the most emotionally torturous moment I have ever experienced. My mind was racing as tears roll uncontrollably; attempts to read my book was futile as I find myself unable to read beyond 3 sentences. All I could do was stare at the setting sun outside my window as my starboard side window seats faces the sun directly as I fly down south.

I arrived in Kuala Lumpur with my uncle waiting for me at the airport. He sent me to his house for a shower and some dinner, afterwhich we headed off straight to the hospital. During the long journey to his home from the airport, he gave me a through diagnosis of my dad and the family's condition. I reckoned I would be ready for what I am about to see (which I later realized I am not and eventually went nuts when i finally did see him).

After saying hi to my mom, sister, cousins, uncle, aunts, and whatnots I headed off to my dad's ward.

I held his hand and told him 'Father, I am back..'


PS: at the time this blog was posted, my dad has recovered and has gained consciouness from the stroke. Things are looking up for him and he is expected to be discharged in a day or two.

Reading Kafka

I landed in Phnom Penh... the flight was pretty rough but luckily managed to sleep through it. Reckon I was awfully tired from the past couple of days of rushing off work for everyone else. Sighh...

But until I can honestly articulate the thoughts in my head, I reckon I'll refrain from writing them here. Too much going on in my head right now. Madness. But I have 7 weeks to go... Hopefully that would make for some fantastic blogging material. Gasssppp.

What can I say... I am absolutely startled and overwhelmed. Watch out for this page... we'll see what happens.