justin_guber - @ 20six.co.uk

the Malay Language & Tact

I was in a queue at the mamak stall when this guy just reached over me, practically bumping me out of the way, to reach for some nuts on the otherside of the counter. I stared at the guy with absolute fury, lack of manners being something that usually causes cockroaches to shrivel up my butt and die.

I wondered why this guy didn't say anything when i realized: there's no word for 'excuse me' in Malay.

The closest word to 'excuse me' in Malay that I can think of is 'tumpang lalu', which means, 'may I pass by'. I can't for the life of me think of a simple word or two word sentence that is equivalent to 'excuse me' which an ordinary layman may say.

Then I considered the word 'thank you'. The Malay equivalent is 'terima kasih', which means 'receive my gratitude'. Then 'sorry': 'maafkan saya' - 'forgive me'. These are sentences, quite long ones too, that you wouldn't consider using unless in a formal function. The only one that gets used that often is thank you.

But those can kinda pass. The 'excuse me' can't. Or, even worse, there's no real word for 'please'.

The equivalent of 'please' in Malay is 'tolong', which literally means 'help'. So, instead of saying 'please pass the jam' you'd be saying 'help and pass the jam'.

Is it just me or are these words orders? Secondly, are they even a close approximation to what they should mean?

In the olden days, when people were humble and had manners, these words fit in with society. In the big city, they don't. Sure, not many New Yorkers use the term 'excuse me', but still, if you wanted to, you could use it without sounding like your auditioning for an adaptation for a Jane Austen movie.

Also, interestingly but unrelated, a common Malay insult is 'kepala hotak engkau' which directly translates to 'your head-brain'.

Something tells me I'm not meant to be here.

1.6.04 06:29

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The Suits Must Die

So today I was supposed to be taking my 4 year old bro out to see Shrek 2 with my girlfriend. Tickets are bought, bro is waiting, and I'm in the fucking office because the suits have the communication skills of a limbless deaf mute who just happens to have been shot in the brain by an elephant gun.

We were given the brief on Friday, and the brief made less sense than Once Upon A Time In Mexico, except at least that movie was kick-ass cool. This brief wasn't even sure it was a request, statement, or an extract from an Irish novel.

Monday comes around and we're briefed by the suits. Some sense, but not much. With what little we have to go on, we trudge on with a pretty good campaign all done up.

Now it's Tuesday, 8:18pm, and I'm still in the office because the big boss has just explained what we're ACTUALLY supposed to do.

Now, I'm beginning to understand America's fascination with guns. A .357 Magnum would feel so good in my left hand right now, aimed right between the suit's eyes. Fuckers.

It's not that I don't like working late. It's that I've made a commitment to my bro to take him out tonight, and now I can't. I hope I still can. I'm right now, at this minute, waiting for approval for the copy I've just written, which will no doubt go through rewrite, and I'll be stuck here till the wee hours of the morning.

I need a Mars bar.

1.6.04 14:20

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Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta...

It's times like these I don't mind that my record label makes less money than a busker in the North Pole. Thanks to some good people I won't mention just in case I'm not supposed to (but would really like to because they've been so wonderful), FYI Entertainment have just received a bunch of complimentary tickets to the Starlight Film Festival, and guess which motherfucker gots tickets for the invites only Kill Bill 2? Haha... damn it feels good to be a gangsta... except I'm not one... and wouldn't want to be either... but 'damn it feels good to be a record exec' just doesn't have the same ring...

3.6.04 04:06

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Lactating Mammaries & Huge Phallus'!

Sorry, just a guestbook. Yes, I could've just called it a guestbook, but then you wouldn't have been so curious to click it now, would you? Pervert.

3.6.04 05:53

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Passing By The Ex...

I'm in a cybercafe today. A cybercafe designed for the majority of people who are more right-sided than left. Not much legroom. I think my butt is going to go to sleep. Don't like this chair.

Anyhow, earlier, at home, I was writing an entry for this blog to transfer later, filled with anger, frustration, confusion, fear and all that bollocks. Since then, I've calmed down, and have saved you all from having to put up with an entry reminiscent of a 16 year old emo kid suffering from very acute depression. That's not what this blog is about. Sure I may rant and rave, but there are certain emotions I just don't like to put up on the net so bare. It just reads badly.

So what was it that got me all pent up, anyway? My ex.

See, I was at a mall in a meeting with one of my partners in the record label and one of the bands we manage. After all was done, as I'm walking back, I pass by my ex-girlfriend from last year.

I had been playing this scenario in my head quite a few times, figuring what to say, every possible rebuttal, but when I saw her, I freaked. I tried my best to avoid eye contact and hoped she didn't see me.

You see, when she broke up with me, it was bad, but what happened afterwards, oh boy, what happened afterwards... heh. Let's just say I'm pretty sure the visits to the therapists and the expensive pills would be non-existent. I won't go into details. It was just bad.

The worst was, everytime she made me feel bad, I'd get what my therapist like to refer to as 'a physical manifestation of my emotional self' or something. This involved nausea, headaches, and worst of all, killer stomach aches, usually followed by painful visits to the toilet.

And in one glance, the feelings came back.

God, the events that happened after we broke up, I wrote a fucking book about, and it only covers about 20% of the whole story. Everything else that happened, let's just say I wasn't in the right state to write it. I don't think I will anytime soon, either, unless I hide the facts really, really well.

Thankfully, I've calmed down a lot since then. My wonderful girlfriend managed to calm me down, and all is well. A million questions are still running through my mind, but I'm not going to bug you with them. Instead, I'll leave you with this one piece of advice:

Do not drink the water from the river Nile.

4.6.04 18:52

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Another Case of the Ex

This is getting spooky.

So you may have read the blog about me passing by my ex. What're the odds of passing by her again? Slim? Nope. Next day, similar incident, but nto quite. I think. The facts have been changed to protect the innocent.

7.6.04 04:38

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The Curse Of The White Kitten

If you look back, somewhere in December I wrote about a white kitten I had who met its end rather tragically. To cut a long story short, it was cut open from stomach to throat. I think I was seven. Maybe eight.

Around the beginning of this year I had another white kitten. See, I've got this one white cat who I call mommy cat. Mommy cat hasn't been fixed. Mommy cat likes to fuck. Mommy cat has since given birth to quite a number of cats over the past three years. Some stay, many leave.

Thing is, after all these years, it finally gave birth to a white kitten, which was absolutely adorable. A little white furball, and my baby bro's favorite. He'd hug it and play with it (whether it wanted to or not) and he loved it to bits.

The little white kitten died a few months back from a skin disease. It was too young and too weak to fight it and we burried it out back (I'd like to call the kitten by a he or she, but I never checked under its tail).

I think white kittens are cursed the second they enter my family.

And what's worse, one of mommy cats daughters from her very first litter just gave birth to four kittens. One of them's white.

7.6.04 05:11

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And Other Such Details...

Some of you who have been reading all this may have noticed I've posted three blogs within three hours (this being the third). Any reason? Sure. Not much to do at work (knock on wood). Hence, I've got quite a shitload of time to write absolute bollocks, as someone with a blog tends to do.

Although there is something quite depressing about some peoples blogs. When you see a post of 'Went to the movies. Saw Shrek 2. It was cool. Gonna catch some sleep now' it makes you wonder why these people write it in the first place.

If you notice, there are very few links to blogs on my page. Reason being, I don't see the point of redirecting you to shite. The few blogs that are up here are genuinely interesting, where even the most simplest description of their daily lives leaves you wanting more.

One such example would be 'My Secret Life As A Prostitute'. Whilst a regular blog on a regular joe would be 'brushed my teeth. Went to work. Boss sucks. Gonna watch TV!', 'My Secret Life...' would have 'Went to meet a john who wanted me to shit on his face and say, "ooh, can I go to the fair now?"'

Of course, one or two may be linked here because they're my buddies and they rule regardless. Like Az, the most fascinating guitarist I have ever met. I had always assumed that people with this level of skill lived in another world that I wasn't allowed into.

So... on to the bollocks, such as how my weekend went. Well, you may or may not be pleased to know that I may or may not be writing for KLue (for those of you who aren't from this side of the globe, KLue is a little magazine detailing the happenings around KL. Kinda like Time Out, but much thinner).

My 'trial assignment' on Sunday was to cover the Karyawan music fest, a barrage of 22 or so bands over the course of a whole day at Planet Hollywood.

Here's the thing.: you're at Planet Hollywood, there are 22 bands playing half hour sets each, and you have just enough money for a pack of cigarettes and a McD's meal. Everyone else around you is relaxing to the music, ordering twenty dollar burgers (or, God forbid, twenty dollar salads) and pitchers of Tiger beer. You are sat there, broke, with your broke friends, nursing the berry flavoured 100 plus power isotonic soft drink that you got free for being a member of the press and tastes like a ribena berry's piss.

The only thing that made up for this was when there were really good bands playing. Sure, there were quite a few that made my attention wander to the power ranger costumes hanging from the ceiling (or Arnold Shwarzenegger's costume from 'the Running Man' which, for some curious reason, is placed inside a mannequin with a huge round brown head reminiscent of an old Gollywog and a swedish meatball), but the bands that rocked really ROCKED.

Special mention needs to go to 'The Keys', or as they like to be known, 'The Real Keys'. Imagine Iron Maiden if they were born in Calcutta and got into Bollywood, and you're almost there. Heavy 80's hair metal riffs combined with a Bollywood pin up frontman in a Michael Jackson-esque white shirt strutting his stuff in sync with the synchronized dance moves of his back up dancers.

(Hmm... those two paragraphs sound pretty good. Might edit them and use them in the article).

Also, gots to mention Dragonred, a band so heavy that the soundman probably gave up half way and said 'you know what, fuck it'. Thundering twin pedal action, monstrous metal riffs, steamy slapped out basslines and vocal raps and melodies to shake Linkin Park out of their boyband boots. number one on the Malaysian top ten for the second week running. Congrats, boyos. Check em out at www.dragonred.com.

Hmmm... who else made an impression... Arthur Kam, 12 year old percussionist extraordinaire, but I'm trying to figure out whether the majority of the crowd were amazed at his musicianship or because he was twelve. He's not talented for a twelve year old, you fucks! He's talented for an any-year-old! This kid is gonna be huge one day. Pragasm watch your back.

Unfortunately, I couldn't stay for all of the good music, even though I should cos I'm covering it, but my girlfriend called and was gonna spring for cigarettes and dinner. For a broke bum whose finished his last pack of Dunhill lights, that's a mighty tempting offer. I just hope the editors of KLue aren't reading this, otherwise my 'trial article' will be my last.

What else... had a meeting with the people 'Under the Stairs'.

For the uninitiated, 'Under the Stairs' is a 'collective' (I hate using that fucking term) of writer-filmmaker creative types. I've written a short film based on an idea we discussed and it's currently in pre-production hell. Shit, I finished the script two and a half months ago, I wish I shot this damn thing already.

However, the agreement we came up with is to direct it together, and one of the other guys is in charge of the visuals. Whilst I'd be more than happy than shoot this guerilla styley off the shoulder with a digicam, the rest of the crew see otherwise, and besides, I really want to see how this script'll come out when someone with actual cinematic vision is behind the camera. Of course, I'll still be directing the monkeys... ACTORS! I mean actors.

I'm supposed to reshoot some footage of myself as well for a short film I've stared in, but the camera was on loan and I don't have it at the moment. Until then, I cannot cut my hair for reasons of continuity. Debbie says I look 'emo'. She may be right. Shit.

Fuck me this blog is long.

Anywhooo, think I'll stop for now. I'm sure I'll think of more vomit to spew by the end of the day. before that, though, gots to give props to my man Az for putting a killer description of my blog on his and linking it. That's what I'm talking about...

Oh, bollocks I need to shit.

7.6.04 07:39

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Extreme Lethargy

Goddamit, I think I'm gonna pass out and sleep right now.

It's not like I had a late night last night, my body's just tired. It wants rest and relaxation.

Shit, my fingers can't even type properly. The mind is unable to be interesting and witty at the moment. Fuck off. I'll talk to you later.

9.6.04 04:56

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The Healed Elbow & God's Wrath

My left elbow is finally A-ok. I've been testing it all morning, and it hurts no more. I can lean on it. I can move my arms about. My elbow is fine. Now why was it fucked to begin with, you may wonder. Well, therein lies a tale...

About a month or two ago I decided I'd be a good boy and go to the mosque with my father. Understand, this is rare for me. My father tells me to meet him at the national mosque deep in the heart of Kuala Lumpur, and, to impress him even more, I dressed up the part and got there early.

There was no sign of my father, so I stayed outside for awhile smoking cigarettes whilst the preacher preached socio-political bile that I'd rather not hear and get straight to the praying. That's when it rained.

Actually, 'rained' is an understatement. This was some 'Day After Tomorrow'-wrath-of-the-Lord thunderstorm. We all finished praying, but still no sign of my father. I had no credit to call, but just enough to SMS, so I did, and waited.

Still no reply. I decided, 'fuck it', and would rather be in the safe confines of my car rather than sitting on the steps of a marble mosque with rain-spray washing my face.

I made my way down the wet marble steps, and almost got to the bottom when I slipped.

I fell down half the steps and landed on the marble floor at the bottom elbow first (hence the pain). Around me was a puddle, raindrops the size of coackroaches splattering about my person and my car keys in pieces by the side.

The entire congregation starred and pointed. After awhile, someone actually came to help me up, which was nice. I really shouldn't expect much since these are the same people who'd steal people's shoes during Friday prayer. And I'm the one who falls.

the pain in my arm died away after awhile thanks to my girlfriends' mom's traditional massage techniques, which are not as sensous as it sounds. In fact, it's fucking painful. When a woman is putting all her weight onto her knuckle, and ramming that knuckle into the socket that connects your arm to your shoulder, you tend to cry like a little bitch. Thankfully, the arm healed.

But the elbow didn't. I only just realized after all this time that it was fine when I leaned on it and realized it didn't hurt anymore.

I still haven't gone for Friday prayer since that day.

11.6.04 04:13

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