I Didn't Know Any Better.

Next time I'll call and whisper sweet nothings, talking about nothing in particular, anything to keep a conversation going so you can go to bed thinking, oh what a nice man he is. And I can go to bed half conscious thinking, that phone call is gonna cost me quite a bit of good money.

I am a little in love, but not enough to do crazy things like go meet her up in her office in the middle of an afternoon with a picnic basket filled to the brim with lamb sandwiches so we could go find ourselves a bench in a park to eat lunch and talk talk talk until the sky comes down on us in a shower of rain so we can run to the car, and I can hold her hand while balancing the picnic basket in the other thinking, maybe we should run straight to Tok Kadhi's office so he can get us married right away. But you've got your children to think of and I've got nothing to think about except maybe, I shouldn't be thinking about being in love with you all that much since we've only known each other less than a month.

Experience has taught me to be careful about falling in love with someone like you. I don't know what has gotten into me but ever since I decided to become a land person full-time, I've been going out with single mothers like you more often than I care to count the number of times I cook these days. It doesn't bother me at all but this whole single mother thing is kinda new to me that I am not quite sure how to deal with it. Maybe I am still hurt by the last single mother I went out with and wanted so much to marry only to be told in the end over the phone that we had better stop seeing each other because I could be a child born out of wedlock.

And now you came along. Deep down inside, I want to marry you right away. I am even willing to marry you first and hope that maybe love will find its way to bloom when we are together as legal as my driver's licence. At this age, I don't think it is proper for us to be going out on a date, sitting for hours at a restaurant talking in whispers as if we are selling something illegal to one another. I am not comfortable, being at this age, to be seen in public with a woman who is clearly not my missus. It's okay for young people to do this. In fact I find it cute. But for middle-age people like us, I find it obscene. And dirty.

Maybe I should just call you and say: 'Marry me.'

Haven't They Had Enough Of P.Ramlee Movies?

Quite frankly, Malaysia has had enough of P.Ramlee movies.

I don't like any of them.

In fact I hate the man to the bone.

No, I don't have a problem.

Do you?

Give Peace A Chaynce. Fat Chaynce, John Lennon.

There ain't gonna be any peace left by the time all the violence is done. At the rate we are going, we haven't seen enough or heard enough cruel things that people can do to one another. Compared to what millions of Jews went through in Nazi camps during World War II, what we are seeing every day on TV has hardened us into believing that it is not a big deal to kill a four year old child with a bomb that could demolish a medium-sized condominium complex. It is okay to bomb anything. It is okay to kill. It is perfectly all right to slash the throat of a pregnant woman. It's not a big deal to cut someone up with a parang, or a samurai sword.

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright.

John Lennon. It's a good thing you died.

It's a violent world out there we might as well turn doubly violent so we can all make sense of what's going on. And the cycle continues. No one talks about peace. Peace is an old-fashioned concept. As out-dated as grandfathers who ain't got nothing better to do except sit in one corner of a drinking shop to talk about the good old days. What's so good about the good old days when you can kill anyone you don't like in the good new day like today. Or tomorrow. It's the new order, boys. Go armed yourselves to the teeth with Lawi Ayam, Tumbuk Lada, Tekpi, Kerambit, Spyderco knives, or Cold Steel kukri. These are good stuff. The world is getting more and more violent you might as well be prepared to understand what's the whole thing is all about. Otherwise you might as well draw pictures of white doves flying amid some stupid looking cotton clouds. Or go pick up a guitar to sing about peace. Or write some poems with titles like 'Bulan Rejab Yang Berdarah' or ' Tangisan Anak Di Qana'.

Don't you get it? All this don't make sense to those who make a decision to bomb a refugee camp. They don't bat an eyelid over small things like bombing the hospital to kingdom come because something moved in there and it could be a suicide bomber.

Don't you get it? It's a violent world you might as well learn how to become doubly violent yourself to make sense of what's going on. Don't talk about peace. Peace doesn't exist anymore. It existed for a while in the 70s.

It's a violent world right outside your doorstep.