justin_guber - @ 20six.co.uk

Better now.

Thankfully, the fever has come down and it's not denggi after all. Probably a viral fever or something. The surprised look on the doctor's face confirmed it.

"Your fever's gone down completely!" she exclaimed.

The miracle of modern medicine and dumpling soup. Personally, I reckon it was all over-exertion, exhaustion, stress and lack of sleep. Saiful said I was going to burn myself out. He wasn't too far off.

So yesterday I snuggled up in bed in a cold sweat watching Old Boy (demented & twisted) whilst my ever-loving girlfriend brought cookies and mineral water. Even though we didn't speak much (as I was asleep most of the time) I absolutely loved her company. For some reason I sleep much better knowing she's next to me.

Now I'm back in the office, everyone's been going through hell during the ten or so hours I've been away and it looks like I'll be jumping in with them soon. The 'Sure' deo I bought is NOT working, godammit, and I'm wondering whether my armpits are genetically different from regular people. Perhaps Man Method was right. Meth Crystals. Or shaving my pits.

Should I shave my pits? Does that make it better or worse?

Tonight is the big one, the meeting with Jalaludin Hassan (whose name I may have been spelling wrong this whole time because I have no idea how many 'l's are in his first name) and we'll find out how much the man costs. Then it's packing up time, followed by a good night's sleep before boarding a 747 to Heathrow.

I'm working on a wallpaper now to piss off my colleagues whilst I have time. It'll feature me, Big Ben and a slogan somewhere along the lines of "I'm here. You're not. Have a nice day."

1.6.05 05:23

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Things to Do in London When You're On Leave

In no particular order. Further proof I am an Anglophile at heart. Either that or a Brit-poseur.

1. Meet Me Mates

This is imperative. There's no point in me going down to London without meeting all my old friends. There's the ol' uni drama gang, for one. Magnus has unearthed all the old scripts and promo posters which I'll be posting up once I get 'em. Then there's the childhood friends. Should be a nice round of nostalgia.

2. Visit Past Schools

Bear in mind, this does not include Concord. I've always wanted to revisit Mill Hill and Hendon Prep. Especially Hendon Prep. God, the place must be tiny now that I'm all growns up.

3. Check Out Goldersgreen

My old haunt. I've heard news on the grapevine that the place has changed considerably. They added a Starbucks. I just hope they didn't demolish one of the lovely bagel bakeries in order to do so.

4. Eat Chips in Pitta Bread, Beans On Toast, Fry Ups and Canelloni

Chips in pitta bread with mayo and ketchup were a prime source of carbo-energy when all I had in my wallet was less than two quid. Beans on toast were the next prime source when I didn't even have two quid. Fry ups I miss, as the definition of an 'English breakfast' in this country seems to consist of a spoonfull of baked beans, two pieces of toast and weiner-dogs. As for the canelloni, the one place I know in KL that does it does it bad.

5. Drink Tea

As much as I've been Malaysian-ized, I could do with ten days of tea without copious amounts of condensed milk. I want semi-skimmed, godammit! Green tops, I say! GREEN TOPS!

6. Walk

No walking is done in this country. None at all. Hell, I skate on my deck to get from point A to point B inside my office (which has led to many almost-accidents). But London, that's different. Walk walk walk. Maybe the belly will go down. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

7. Forbidden Planet

Comic books. Toys. DVD's. 'Nuff said.

8. DVD Shopping

So far on the list: Clerks X, La Haine, Ed Wood, Spinal Tap, Buffy season 7, Braindead, Idle Hands, Orgazmo and Baseketball. All movies I can't get here and all I've seen before with the exception of La Haine and Buffy. I feel my wallet lightening considerably at the mere thought.

9. Check out the London Eye

When it first came out, I despised it. It felt like something Malaysia would do, building a huge modern monstrosity in the middle of the city, made even worse by the fact that London is by far a more historical city thn KL. I really couldn't fathom why they'd build it. Now I'm really curious about the view. I wonder if there's a smoking booth?

10. Watch movies

At last. Uncensored movies without any bad subtitles. Hitchikers Guide, Sin City and any arthouse flicks on are definitely on the agenda.

11. Chinatown

There's a tiny little restaurant called Tai Ka Lok. The duck rice is kick ass. For some reason, all the ducks here are skinny, whereas the Tai Ka Lok ducks are juicy and plump. Not helping the belly, but at least I'll be walking. Walking all the way to...

12. Ed's Diner

Reservoir Dog and coffee n' butterscoth milkshake with a side order of atomic fries, please.

13. Check out Staki's

Or whatever it's called now. A casino somewhere near Euston (I think). Then again, why the fuck would I want to go there, it's not like I've ever won. But then, with that in mind the odds of me winning now are considerably higher, therefore... aargh! Cancel it from the list! The hunger strikes back...!

14. Check out a play/musical

All those years near the West End and the only musicals I went to were Grease, Oliver and Starlight Express. And one play on the trial of Oscar Wilde.

15. Wander the streets of Soho

In search of action, adventure... and something perverse and twisted to write about in this blog.

16. Go to Full Tilt@Electric Ballroom

Head. Bang.

17. Ozzfest

Head. Bang. More.

18. Party with Man Method

Head. Bop. Feet. Shuffle.

19. Get Wasted

Bit obvious, that.

20. Go to Denmark Street

Guitars. Lots of guitars.

21. Chill

The most important one, in my book. I need the chill out time, soak up the atmosphere by some cafe reading a comic book, smoking cigarettes and blogging my balls off. Is there WiFi in cafe's in England? Or do I need to go to a cyber cafe?

Less than 24 hours to go. Ole, ole ole ole...

1.6.05 08:22

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London Calling Pt.1: The Roof Is On Fire

I woke up this morning in an odd yoga position on an uncomfortable blue
sofa freezing my feet off as someone had his head permanently lodged in
the dustbin whilst he puked. Surrounding the floor of the apartment
were various patrons to the NYE roof party the night before, a wild and
windy new years party 6 months after the actual New Years Eve. Why?
Because that's how Man Method does things

Four days ago I was on a Malaysian Airlines 747 on my way to the UK,
squished in an uncomfortable chair trying to eat a steak with a plastic
fork and knife in the midst of air turbulence. By the end of it I was
left with broken cutlery and steak juice all over my pillow and
clothes. I spent the rest of the 12 hour flight awake and bright eyed
watching Hitch and reading Dan Brown's 'Angels and Demons' (which I
finished just before we landed).

With
me on the flight was Naren (pictured right), who got a job offer in
Leeds (I think). Throughout the flight we talked, mainly about the
intense rudeness of the airline staff, which I found odd.

Example? I pressed the button to call a stewardess. Meanwhile, Naren
was reading some finance book and listening to the in-flight radio,
flicking through channels on the controller. The stewardess came,
snatched (not took, snatched) Naren's controller, switched off the
'call-stewardess' light, and was about to fuck off.

"Excuse me," I said, "I was the one that called for a stewardess."

"What you want?" was her reply in a tone I was only accustomed to in
hawker stalls (Don't worry. If you're not Malaysian, I'm sure they'll
treat you like Gods). When we landed I was intensely glad I didn't have
to go through anymore of that shit.

The entire taxi ride to the flat my parents rented out near Edgware Road
I stared out the the window, taking in the sight of England. This trip
felt different somehow. It felt less like coming back to a familiar
place, more like I was a tourist. A real tourist. I truly felt quite
alienated when I finally landed, and felt so the whole time I've been
here up until I reached Man Method's party.

Ah, yes. Man Method's parties have now become stuff of legend,
upping himself everytime. This time, not only did his crew bring the
speakers, amps and decks, they also brought out halogen lamps for
lighting and a tent.
Yes. A tent. To house the amp in case it rained.

Throughout the whole set up we all helped out. I was on lighting
duty. They had a bunch of coloured gels which we put on boxes to
project on the walls.
They also made good helmets. Not in a practical sense, of course, but they do look rather fetching.

Unfortunately,
some of the neighbours weren't digging the vibe. Before you knew it, a
man from the council was at the party, requesting the music be turned
down and eventually switched off completely. By 4.00am the last
survivors were in Man Method's bedroom, trying to find new methods of
sleeping with available space.

When I woke up it was 6.00am and made my way to the greasy spoon
opposite for beans and egg on toast. Now everyone's asleep again.
Except me. Fuck, I might as well be. If it weren't for the photos, this
would be a pretty crap post. What do you expect? I had an hour of sleep
and I've been partying on a roof all night.

5.6.05 13:03

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London Calling Pt.2: Aimless Walks & Other Silliness

Right now I'm at Camden Town in a Nero Cafe, pissed that WiFi in London is (a) hard to fucking find, (b) a bitch to log on to and (c) charged. That's right. I had to use my credit card to upload this fucking blog so y'all better be frickin' grateful.
But it hasn't all been walking and drinking and walking and drinking and staggering. Two days ago I followed my parents to Stratford-Upon-Avon (birthplace of Big Willie Shakespeare) and Bourton-On-The-Water (birthplace of someone not as important). And what does the British countryside look like? Well, a little like this:

As you can see, my bro was having a whale of a time. Me? I just soaked it up. Another place to walk, with far less cars and Arab tourists. If you notice the first picture from the left on the second row, that's a sign from the cinema at Big Willie's birthplace. 'Star Warts III'. I guess Big Willie Shakes don't dig the force.

The weather was also on the couldy side, as you can tell, but yesterday and today have been anything but blue skies. Of course, that doesn't mean it's hot. It's kinda like the Egypt syndrome. Step out under the sun and you'll feel warm, get under shade and you'll freeze your bollocks off (unless you're from England, in which case you won't feel a damn thing).

Reading the play now made me wonder whether I was a lot funnier back in those days or just having more fun. A complete bastardization of Big Willie's 'Much Ado About Nothing', it featured dick and fart jokes galore. Example (as hinted earlier):
WATCHMAN#2: Why does that guy keep talking in that Shakesperean prose?
WATCHMAN#1: Hey, Shakespeare can do some crazy shit to you. I knew this one guy, he knew every single line of every single play of Shakespeare, every verse, ever sonnet.
WATCHMAN#2: What happened to him?
WATHCMAN#1: He died of internal haemorhage.
WATCHMAN#2: He died of an internal haemorhage from reading too much Shakespeare?
WATCHMAN#1: No, he died of an internal haemorhage after being fucked up the ass with a 15 inch strap on dildo.
Gimme a break, it was a university crowd.
Then I went to Man Method's to chill out and watch endless episodes of the Simpsons and Johnathan Creek (which I'm beginning to dig) as his 21 year old Eastern European cleaner tidied his room. In Malaysia, we get old biddy's from Indonesia. In England, they get cute 21 year old Eastern European's. The sheer inequality.
There's also this weird unwritten rule between me and Man Method: whenever one of us is visiting the other's country, the visitor inadvertedly (and willingly) becomes the other's house-bitch. When I was at Man Method's place, I made the tea. When he was in KL, he opened the gate and door for me when I came home from work.
Not sure what to do next. Might visit my old schools in the Goldersgreen/Hendon/Mill Hill area, then maybe meet up with Izzy tonight and Zana tomorrow for dinner. Then it's party time with Man Method on Friday, followed by the Download festival on Saturday. Then Sunday I'll be back home.
Did I just call KL 'home'? Weird.

8.6.05 15:50

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London Calling Pt.3: Greetings from Edgware Road

For some reason unbeknownst to me, I suddenly have a wireless internet connection in the flat we've rented. My only guess is that one of the other flats has switched on their internet connection and I'm getting a borrowed signal.

A slow, borrowed signal. I'd feel bad about it, but I'm not that nice.

And what do I do on these nights alone in the living room with full control of the TV? I watch this crap:

I'm amazed that these channels exist. There's no longer a need for random chat up-lines where you have to use your imagination. Punters call in and give instructions and the girls do them on TV. I find it very, very wrong and yet I can't help having a quick peek to see what's going on. It's either I do that or check out Big Brother.
As you can see, night-times are boring. I checked out an indie club earlier and was unfortunately bored shitless. Right now I'm watching an episode of Red Dwarf right around the time they introduced a different Kochanski and everything went to hell. And where the fuck is Rimmer?
Bored out of my wits at the indie club made me think of my whole trip in general and why I don't reckon London is home anymore. Because my crew ain't here.
After years in Malaysia, I'd made new friends and formed close bonds. My whole crew from way back when I was in uni, or even when I was living on 38 Basing Hill in Golders Green.

Memory lane didn't seem as memorious as I thought I'd be. It was just a place.
Geographical location doesn't make much difference besides weather conditions and exchange rates. It's your friends, family, whoever's closest to you that makes home.
That doesn't mean I'm not having a good time, though. Went shopping with my dad today (DVD's galore), then went out for dinner with Zana, my ex from way back when. Tomorrow it's party time with Man Method, followed by a train trip to Donington to check out Sabbath. That's got me kinda freaked, though. The earliest train back from the gig is at 6 in the morning. Where the hell am I gonna stay?
Time for sleeps, me-thinks. Sleeps and chills. Maybe a DVD. Nights.

10.6.05 02:30

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London Calling Pt.4: Randoms & Revelations

You see that bright blue sky? It's gone. It's buggered off and left me here with cloudy weather and the need of my fleece jacket. As always, I've been wandering about aimlessly doing nothing much except, well, wandernig abotu aimlessly, occasionally meeting friends. Walking about alone and wasting time in cafe's makes you think, though. Makes you think about many things, such as this:
The other day (I can't remember which) I was riding the central line trying to get to somewhere when a homeless man boarded with an empty cup, coughed to gain everyone's attention, and announced in a manner befitting a gentleman,
"Good afternoon, everyone, it's been a lovely couple of days, the weather's been brilliant and I hope you are all having a pleasant day. I apologise for disturbing you all but if any of you have any spare change for me that I may get a bite to eat and a place to stay for the night I would be much obliged. Thank you."
Of course, no one gave and I had no change, but it got me thinking: this homeless man, who has no form of income and lives on the streets getting by whatever way he can still had his manners. In fact, this man with no job had more manners than most CEO's and company directors in Malaysia. If you brought this man to a restaurant I'm sure he'd have perfect table manners, whereas most men driven around in Mercedes' in Malaysia eat with their mouths open in front of senior delegates of the UN.
Makes you wonder. And now, back to the plot.
I wkoe up at around 3pm today, sleeping in and chilling out. After an absolutely disgusting vegetarian breakfast panini sandwich I called up Man Method in the hope of spending the night in Shoreditch getting my groove on only to discover the poor man's suffering from the same symptoms I suffered from less than a fortnight ago: fever and vomitus. I paid him a visit and the fifty quid I owed him for getting my Donington festival ticket, bought my train ticket to the fest and met up with Naren for drinks, only to discover the poor man's got an intensely bad back and the dude was suffering in the pub (which, incidentally, was a very nice pub but I can't remember the name).
Then, the randomness. I was stood on the corner near Picadilly Circus station looking down Shaftesbury Avenue wondering whether I should visit the Casino for all times when some random walked up to me asking for a cigarette. I obliged.
"Where you from?" the random asked. I told him. He then asked if I had any plans tonight and whether I'd like to join him and his friends for drinks at a Mash-Up club.
I thought, "Why not?"
I followed the guy whose name was Michael who claimed he was from Oregon, working in both an accounting firm and film company. we then met up with his female friends Amber and Flora where I discover (a) they're still in high-school and (b) Michael's not American. He's from Clapham.
That explains the accent.
We then went to some bar called the Marketplace and I excused myself to an alleyway to pee when I thought to myself,
"Do I really want to spend my night drinking with some guy who blatantly lied to me abotu where he comes from and could be lying to me about other things as he gets into some high-school girls knickers?"
Not much of a question really. I fucked off.
On the walk back I began wondering why I thought London was my home all those years ago. Sure, I like the place, but I prefered the company of my friends more, and the only dude who keeps in constant contact is Man Method. Take away the friends and leave London as is and I feel incredibly lonely. I miss my friends, my girlfriend, even my job. And as much as I like how friendly people are in England, the random-Michael kinda put a damper on that, watching him whisper behind Amber and Flora's back about how "it's on" tonight. I may be thinking paranoid, but there's a good chance a con was afoot. Either way, I find it hard to trust someone who lies about where their from. Why would he do that?
And why Oregon?

10.6.05 23:16

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London Calling Pt.5: Closure

We were also supposed to meet Amy so that Man Meth' could pass her camera to her. We sat down at 1001 and talked about movies and travels. It was around the time when we were talking about 'Lost In Translation' when Man Method said,

"Can't you relate to 'Lost In Translation' more now that you've been spending some alone time in London? There's nothing wrong with the country your in, but all your wandering and wondering is a direct result of you being alone in the city. That's why I now make it a point to only travel to countries where I've got a friend."

This isn't the exact quote, but you get the idea. The reason why I bring this up will be explained later.

Amy arrived and I hung about in Shoreditch with them till about 1ish to catch my 2.25pm train to Derby for the Download Festival in Donnington, a moment I had been waiting for for quite awhile. At last I'd be able to check out one of the heaviest bands in the world, Black Sabbath, live before my very eyes, together with the GnR/STP amalgam that is Velvet Revolver, the 'love-metal' of HIM, the bone-crunching riffing of Anthrax and the hillarious silliness of Bowling For Soup.

That's not all. There was also the Snicker's Bowl, where some of the greatest legends in skating would be ripping it up: Tony Alva, Steve Cabalero and the 'Holmes' himself, Christian Hosoi. There was also the Napster stage, markets, merch and booze. This was to be a truly rocking weekend.

My only worry was my inability to get any form of accomodation. All the B&B's and hotels were fully booked. Worst case scenario I'll just sleep at the train station, I thought.

Two hours on a train and twenty minutes on a bus, and I was there:
I was alone. And I'd rather spend my time with one friend doing nothing as opposed to standing in a field freezing my bollocks off surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people I didn't know.

The thought depressed the shit out of me. Sure, there was Anthrax, HIM, Velvet Revolver, fucking BLACK SABBATH, but the experience was nowhere near as good as it could have been had I been accompanied by just one like-minded fellow.

Did I really want to spend my last night in England feeling depressed at one of the biggest rock festivals I'd ever be privy to? did I really want to sleep in a train station? There was nothing wrong with the place, everything was fine. It's just not as enjoyable when you're alone.

And that pretty much sums up my entire holiday in a nutshell: the time's I spent with my friends were the best moments of the holiday, and they only accounted for 4 or 5 days of the entire 10, and for the rest of the trip I felt alone and depressed. It made me realize that (for me at least) it's not the geographical location that makes a place truly great, it's the company you keep. And at that moment I missed my job, my hectic-fucking-schedule, my crazy bands and my wonderful girlfriend. I missed my car, teh ais and food that gave me the shits something chronic. I-Missed-Malaysia. And that's a pretty weird statement, coming from me.

I rushed out of Donington, got on the first train back to London, called up Man Meth' and explained the situation. I then had a lot more fun than I could have ever possibly had at the gig. Man Method greeted me with a smile that said two things:

1. Great to see ya.
2. Told you so, Dumbfuck McGee!

We then made our way out into the night accompanied by Shy and his friend (whose name I think was Amika, or something along those lines), and what did we find?
Huge re-prints of key panels from the three Sin City stories that have been adapted for the movie adorned the walls together with papier mache models of key characters. I think the place was called 'Jaguar Handbag' or something (Man Meth'll probably correct that) and even though they were playing the theme tune to 'Bonanza' and other 'great' hits that weren't so great, I was having a blast, chilling with my friends and laughing the night away.
After that we hit up some other place (which I can't remember), danced like loons and got schooled big time by some afro dude in a suit who proceeded to bust a move like something out of 'You Got Served'. In fact, we did get served, Voltron-style.

Some bagels, some sleep and some coffee later, I was packing up my bags, boarding a plane, flicking in-flight movie channels between 'Constantine', 'Robots' and 'Gangster', going through immigration, and coming out of the KLIA, a smile slowly creeping as I took it all in. I was back in Malaysia. I was home. And I was glad.

The trip had it's downsides, but it also had some great moments, and more than anything it was a valuable lesson. I finally felt a sense of closure over the whole London/KL thing. There isn't a doubt in my mind now. Sure, I love London, I love the atmosphere, I love the people and the places and the beans and chips and the friends I have there, but I've made my home in KL now, and I'm all the better for it. London is the past and it's never going to be the same as way back when. This is Khai 2.0, new and improved, with a new location, mission and waistline. So bye-bye, London. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

And chips.

...

...that was bad.

14.6.05 14:07

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I'm back

The second I got into the office yesterday for my first day of work after the holidays I was swamped. From 9.30am to 10.30pm I worked non-stop, running around like a headless chicken and taking short, tiny 5 minute breaks. Mental, yet somehow satisfying.

What wasn't satisfying, though, was the shit I have to sometimes put up with. I almost forgot how stupid some of these people can be. Not only is a good chunk of the work due by lunch time, a whole bunch of other stupid shit happened, such as:

(1) A job request I got where I was told "...the objective of this video is to gizz out the 3 minutes video montage..." That's an actual quote. They want me to "gizz out" a video. How does one gizz out a video? What is this gizz? Are they thinking the same 'gizz' I'm thinking, or am I just a pervert? Wait. Don't answer that.

(2) They locked us in. Literally. They locked all exits from my floor in the middle of the night. If there weren't any stairs to the floor above we'd have been fucked.

(3) the big kahuna of stupidity. I was being rushed to write some copy that needed to be translated overnight. The translator was on standby. I rushed out the copy and sent it out at 10.30pm before leaving the office. I then left for jamming and came back today knackered. About 20 minutes ago I get a call from the AAD, telling me that the e-mail wasn't received.

Let me rephrase: 16 HOURS after the e-mail was sent, now only she realizes the e-mail wasn't received. She then says she didn't receive it either. I tell her that's bullshit and make her check her inbox. I also re-send the e-mail with the original date and time still on it, pissed that this stupid bitch is trying to accuse me of not sending the e-mail. The more I thought about it, I got even more pissed. Why? Because she then tells me the first batch sent for translation (which I sent around 7pm yesterday) has just been sent back to us translated, and this new batch I just sent out will be back soon, possibly within the hour. Now, either (a) the translator's been arsing about since 7pm yesterday or the more obvious: (b) she didn't send the first batch out for translation until just recently, and that's when she spoke to the translator and realized they didn't receive the e-mail. And this is the same bitch that's been rushing us.

I swear if she keeps acting like a bitch I'm gonna slap her like a bitch. To quote Ron Burgundy, "hit her in the uvula!"

15.6.05 08:34

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Actual quote from Man Method about the Script for my movie 'Celup':

"It's like a teenager who doesn't want to clean his room...

If you're a teenager who doesn't want to want to clean his room, then it's perfect for you.

If you're a teenager who's naturally clean, or remember being a teenager with a dirty room, then you're ok with it.

But if you don't remember being a teenager at all, well, then it's not going to resonate at all."

I can live with that.

15.6.05 08:57

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Back on the production trail...

So I met up with Ariff Akhir to see what the status is and discover that he's been busy on other movies. One is called 'Dry Bungholes Are Grande'.

I think he's lying.

But it does appear that Jalaludin Hassan is in like Flynt for the movie. He'll (hopefully) be joining us right after shooting 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire'. As for the rest of the cast, I've just finalized the schedule and I'll be contacting everyone for to confirm. We're also supposed to have a big meet n' greet this Sunday before the first day of filming next Saturday (not the coming one).

And still no word from Sony. Ariff thinks their avoiding his calls. I suggested he claim to be the person's father, or maybe her baby's daddy. He said the receptionist wouldn't buy that.

But what do we do about the camera now, then? I guess I'm going to have to buy it. If Sony dick us around too much I might just end up buying the Canon, even though their shop clerk pissed me off. God, what is up with all these companies? Soon I'll be making my way to JVC or something next...

Hey, I wonder what JVC got?

One quick google search later...

Nothing worth buying.

15.6.05 09:10

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