gathering dust

Humour me for a second and forget that mp3s have taken over our lives, and lets pretend for a moment that you still frequent your local music store to buy albums, as opposed to clicking 'purchase' on iTunes, or wherever you get your music from these days. Humour me for a moment.

Everyone has that one favourite CD that they used to play on loop. It may come with a sticker on it's shiny plastic cover, proclaiming bonus tracks, or posters. Or in some cases - 'buy one get one free!'. The cover probably isn't all that shiny anymore, the plastic probably scratched and worn, cracks from careless storage crushing the flimsy covering.. But you don't mind because the memories that go with it are just so fantastic, and anyway - the CD plays just fine. (Or maybe you do mind, you anal bastard. But I'm ignoring you lot for now.)

You know that as soon as the first tune plays you'll be singing along, vague smile gracing your face and for a moment you're somewhere else. Down the highway, cruising with the windows down and the wind messing up your previously perfect hair. In your room, tears running down your face, pillow in hand, and your constantly vibrating phone sitting ignored in the corner. Next to your best friend, hands clasped tight and voice hoarse from the screaming because the vocalist is so hot, and watching them live is worth skipping meals for.

Once upon a time, it was all you played. You know every song, and the order it comes in, and you're already anticipating the next song.

But today.. The case is cracked, and the CD worn. The songs skip or gets stuck, the scratches did their damage. So now it sits quietly in corner, gathering dust.

Some items just aren't meant to last forever. I don't have the heart to throw it out just yet, but when there isn't any more space left in my cluttered room, I'll say goodbye.

And some friendships just aren't meant to stand the test of time. I'll always root for you, and I'll always wish you the best. Maybe it's a telling sign that our memories are better conversation material than our current lives.

Seconds [2010]

One day consists of 86,400 seconds. This is one of them.



In relation to my last post, so as to not paint a "Bah, humbug!"-y picture of me. Because I do believe in love. It's just right now.. I'm a bit too tired.

Obsession, part huit - D'Sound

I remember hearing D'Sound's Tattooed On My Mind from their Beauty Is a Blessing album on my brother's computer for the first time. I remember begging him to just give me their CD, because really, he's ripped them on his computer and he doesn't need the physical CD anymore. Because I need it. I remember him finally giving in, and that the first time I played it, it was raining outside, and I had just got  home from school and I was so happy, I didn't bother getting changed from my uniform.

I remember chatting for hours with Sphyra online, interspersed with silly chatter in the #MD-Indo room on IRC, with D'Sound playing softly in the background, because I didn't want to sleep, and staying awake till I was exhausted meant that I didn't have to spend time staring at the cracked white ceiling of my grandparent's home.

I remember shoving D'Sound down Jo's throat around about the time I started sleeping over at her place, because THEY'RE MY FAVE BAND EVER, and convincing people that I have really cool taste in music was a valid way of interacting back then.

I remember driving around aimlessly at night with their many songs from their many albums played on shuffle, because that's partly how I convinced myself that staying in one city long enough to finish my degree is the logical (and responsible) thing to do.

I remember getting over break ups and make ups with their songs. I remember the excitement of finally seeing their CD in a record store, and buying it even though I was on a tight student budget. I remember long drives to Jakarta, shouting along to their songs, much to the chagrin of random friends who happen to accompany me, because I really can't sing.

I remember pulling all nighters with headphones on tight, because the designers always insist on playing loud heavy metal bands or fucking Kelly Clarkson at midnight, and I need something to help me concentrate on the article I've neglected for the past month.

So many memories.

This band got me through a lot of things. And I will never be able to tell them just how much they mean to me.

Except, oh hang on.. I did.

I remember the night I had dinner with Simone, the vocalist for D'Sound. She was the nicest, sweetest and friendliest person ever. She was also worried that I sneaked off to meet her when I was supposed to be studying for my Econ finals (7am the next day). I remember choking on the crushed almonds that were stirred in my hot cocoa. And my friends laughing at me because I was so shy. The next night, I went to their gig in Bandung, stood front row center, and at the end of the night, she saw me and recognized me, and managed to say she was glad we came.

I will always have a special place in my heart for D'Sound.

silly rain

I was always a fortunate kid, and I think I was pretty priviledged. My parents are't exactly rolling in dough, but I definitely had a comfortable childhood. My first home was, as I remembered it, huge. Enough room for me to crawl under tables and imagine elaborate stories where I was Kamen Rider's plucky young sidekick, and the world needed my very vague but very important talents. And lovely blank walls I was allowed to 'decorate' with childish scribbles and valiant attempts at forging my parent's signatures (they never signed off on assignments and permission slips, they eventually gave up asking if I needed anything signed).

We had a sprawling back garden filled with Duku trees and Mango trees, and shapely Salak palm trees in the distance (which I had to be careful about approaching, because SNAKES!), and rows upon rows of Suflir that sit pretty, awaiting my mum's attention. There was enough room for me to practice riding my bike and a gently slopped roof where my brother had his afternoon naps. I tried joining him once, I was rewarded with laughter as I got stuck and spent half an hour trying to get back down.

I was rarely bored at home, even if I spent hours alone. I was a pretty self sufficient kid, easily amused by my own imagination. And if I was ever really desperately lonely, I could always hop down a stone path to my gran's sister's house next door and bug my teenage aunts and uncles, settling down for an afternoon of noodles and music I didn't quite understand. Or if I wanted to play with someone my own age I could ask my Mbak to hail a becak so I can ride to my gran's house and trick my younger (by 6 months!!) cousin into doing something silly. She was always a lot more sensible than I ever was.

Approaching dusk, I'd have to be safely ushered indoors because that would be the time the wild monkeys would come out to play, swinging on washing lines, ripping of any unfortunate item of clothing forgotten there. They'd be wreaking general havoc, as I watched fascinated safe behind a pane of glass. I took the saying "Monkey see, monkey do." to a whole other level, I consider it a stroke of luck that I didn't turn out violent like those bastards.

This sudden onslaught of nostalgia was brought on by the rain. And I think my love of rain started from that house. My Condet house. Because we had a nice patio, with the most uncomfortable rattan lounger where I nevertheless spent hours watching it pour down. This lovely thick curtain of water obscuring the world outside, keeping me safe from monkeys, and mosquitoes. Cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning never really scared me, and I'd stay curled up with a mug of hot chocolate, quietly enjoying the feeling of being some type of magical creature living behind a waterfall.

It's raining today, and I'm safe inside my tiny little picture perfect brick house. But right now, I'm remembering Condet, and all the happy moments I spent there as a child.

easily amused~

I feel ya Russell.. You know.. Sans pubes comment.

Traveling with friends = BEYOND AWESOME, but I can't deny that traveling alone is one of my favorite things to do. The plane ride, filled with melancholic staring of the fluffy white clouds outside (and then your eyes hurting because fuck it it's too damn bright), and the awkward look the taxi driver gives you when you're obviously on holiday alone.. I'm weird but it just fills me with glee, okay. Honestly, I like holidays on my own because I get to space out in a strange new place and it's a lot more romantic to smile at strangers having fun, rather than when you're out with your friends and they're bugging you to just fucking get ready, the trannies are about to start their awesome pole dancing at the gay bar across town. (Which were honestly hands down, some of the best dancing I've ever seen.)