Month: November 2013
Yangon’s Parties were a lot lamer back in 2002. People played cheesy hits which wasn’t cool even back then and danced to it. I was at one of those kinda parties in one dry evening of 2002. No dancing. Just checking out what’s happening. (i’m not even sure whether i was invited or not) That’s where I accidentally met the Prophet. He had drunk a lot already when I sat down next to him on the fence or something where we both got unknowingly left behind by the cruel, rich and famous party crowd. I thought I said hi and he said ‘who’re you with’ or may be it’s the other way around. Then we talked about a few random stuffs to get to the point where he said he liked papa roach. He shouted, he yelled, he used body language when I didn’t understand what he said. Then I finally found out ‘the prophet’ was one wasted motherfucker right after he threw up on my legs. Why am I referring him as ‘the prophet’? Because I thought he was sent to me from God to show me how the things should be. He brought cannabis in to my life. I used to smoke joints before I met him though. But not everyday. I wasn’t addicted or anything. I was more like a social smoker. I only smoked just to get a long with others. Prophet had an apartment for his own. There he taught me how to roll joints with rolling papers! That was the first time he impressed me. I’ve never seen rolling papers before. Let alone how to roll it. I didn’t know ‘what’ it was. I thought he was a new kid in the area but he seemed to know every pot-dealer in town!! Long story short, we became good friends. We smoked lots of lots of joints everyday. I skipped lots of classes. We talked about ‘Prodigy’ , Red Akert2, southpark, meditation, Buddha and porn. We went to gigs, got in fights and made lots of troubles. It’s been almost 10 years, now that we’re both married to our beloved ladies who also likes THC. Even Our kids are playing together. We’d made family trips. We smoked on the beaches while watching our kids building sun-castles together. We smoked on the hills while the little ones were playing golf with pine cones and sticks. We’re still hanging out, still smoking pot. He taught me not only how to smoke joint, but also how to live with it. He gave me a few TV shows to watch while baked. He treated his family so nice. He played with his son all day long. I had a kinda hard childhood and I didn’t even know that fathers play with their kids on planet earth before I saw him wrestling with his son. I thank him for showing me the good side of me, i thank him for making my life so much easier than it was supposed to be and most of all showing me the way to become a good father to my daughter. I’m good with kids and I’m better stoned. The prophet is the Shiznizz.
DIE!! AND THAT’S IT
Have you ever thought of “why am I trapped in this body?” while staring at yourself in the mirror. Or even “how did I get here?” or “is it even my body?” Since I was four feet tall, I had this kinda strange thinkings. I’d sit in front of the bathroom mirror for 15 minutes and started wondering “this is not me. This kid appearing on the other side of mirror, he’s not me. ‘I’ am inside him! I’m trapped. I didn’t choose this body.” and worst of all, knowing that I’ll be dragged along wherever this guy’s going, whatever the guy in the mirror’s doing, scared the seven shades of crap out of me and always ended up shaking my head side to side quickly just to shake off this scary happening. Time passed by and now I’m 30. But that particular feeling won’t go away. It’s still haunting me, not every time I look into the mirrors but occasionally it does come back in my head and i still have to shake it off of my head. Why was I scared of myself? Because it definitely isn’t me or myself. If there’s a company making lives, there must be two departments for assembling this process. One makes bodies and the other, SOULS. They don’t get along sometime the bodies and souls. At least not all the time. However, I’m having even worst thoughts now a days. Let’s say we’re trapped in this body, can’t get out, we are destined to serve this bloody good for nothing bodies which give us pain, hunger, toothache, cancer, herpes and all that shits. But it all seems fine compared to my new dreadful assumings.
What if our souls are gonna be still trapped even after the bodies died?
Well , it sounds a bit more serious , doesn’t it? What if the bodies are temporary and minds or souls are forever? Think about it,..you’re dead, someone cover your body with white cloth, put you in a locker of that freezing room along with other bodies and you can still feel every single detail. You can hear your relatives and spouse crying beside you and a minute later you are locked in a cold metal box knowing that there could be another unknown dead body lying in the box beside yours. Then may be they’ll cut-open your belly and chest for post-mortem examinations without any kind of anesthesia. They think you’re dead, in fact you are, but not as dead as you should be and you can still sense every cut and suture. I can keep on writing more details but I’m sure you got the figure. So let’s say they finally burry you, leave you alone in the dark coffin six feet underground, go back home and watch TV while ur body’s probably eaten by worms. I’ve gone too far. You and I both know that there’s no one to assure you this isn’t gonna happen nor true. What if it’s what they call “hell’? There’s no way you can know what’s gonna happen after you die unless you die. And by the time you are dead, it’s too late right? So it comes to my senses that the meaning of life is just to forget about your death while you’re living it because thinking about death and such terrible things everyday is just not right. Life’s something in between one problem and another while death is one of the problems you’ll surely meet. But trying to accept it is not as easy as it seems cause you believed this is your body after all. With or without your will, You’ve taken it. You picked it up and you’ll let it go. Its hard to let something go especially when it’s the body you’ve carried around for decades. For me, it’s not the body which I don’t wanna let go. It’s the MEMORIES I perceived along with this very body that I’m obsessed with. The sights I’ve seen, the smells I smelled, the people I’ve met and even loved.,,they are all too much to let go. After all, it’s just a tiny memory bit saved up in a corner of your head but it takes us a lifetime to reach that far.
I wish I could finish this essay with a bit more pleasant ending but I can’t. Like it or not we’re in this already. It sucks that soul and body come as a package. Not sure which one captured which first, but we are the victims of the stupid process as we noticed it. All the answers seem blur and undefined. Nothing is concrete. We are floating and will keep on floating. So let’s hope there’s nothing after death. Death alone is sick enough already right?What can possibly be worse than that? Toothache? Like it or not, It is our duty to keep our minds and bodies stay in harmony before we die. Life is a gift and death is unexceptional. They come in pairs. You don’t know how you got in but you surely know you’ll get out one day. Living could be a struggle but then again dying ain’t that hot either. Too bad our choices are ridiculously limited. But people said “better out than in” didn’t they?
Years ago, I put a huge chilli in the meatball that I was gonna throw to my dog Lilly. She cought it as I threw it to her like she always did before. Then,….BURN…(I’m not sure if dogs hate spicy stuffs but I’m sure Lilly hates Chillies ) she learnt a lesson not to catch the food I throw to her at sight but to let it drop on the ground first, then sniff it to make sure it’s chilli-free then eat it. My new dog “Sofie” hasn’t learnt that lesson yet. She believes in me. She still trusts me like people having faith in God. I don’t wanna hide another chilli in Sofie’s meatball. I don’t wanna break the bond between me and Sofie like i did with Lilly.
Today I realized that we Burmese people are like Lilly. We don’t jump and catch whatever they threw at or to us. Not a chance. We let them drop on ground, check if anything’s funny or explosive, then still, lots of people don’t even eat them. Because? We’ve been spiced up a lot before. Not only with Chillies. There have been granades, bullets, jail-sentences, lives…you name it. There’s no bond between us and our meat-balls throwers.
Memories are for life. It takes a generation or may be more for our people to be able to catch whatever they throw at or to us without a single doubt. Or whoknows. That day might never come. Not even to Lilly.