Papa, seem to have the littlest inkling that he must call Yvette that late morning Friday last. As it was nearing noon and prayers should be just after, he feels he still has time for a quick coffee and a bit of a chit- chat with Yvette but things really did not quite coincide with papa’s plans. The reason being: Yvette’s office is near ten kilometers away, papa had his info wrong, he had this notion even though from where, he could, not recall, that Yvette works quite near the golden mile zone. The strange thing was, he did not ask where Yvette’s place of work was, the last time they met which in reality was their first and only with none of the follow up afterwards. How did he arrive at the golden mile section, he, just did not, know.
He hung up telling Yvette that he would be calling, the soonest again, but, not really promising to go see her at Santana, she said ok and papa went about doing what he was planning to do that morning. It, was, very cordial, more like, two, Old Buddies calling, each other up, to say hello, and to meet up, should they, be the few minutes driving time from a mutual meeting point. It is, quite nice, to have, a, lady- friend in the strict sense of the word and a Golf- Buddy too. As to when would they be ‘swinging’ on, the course, only Yvette could determine the exact date considering, her overly tight, night and day work schedule. The probability of them not meeting so soon is the most likely should the trend prevalent among K.L ites nowadays has her following suit without knowing how it came to be in the first place. Exactly the question, how does it arrived, this obnoxious habitude of not answering calls or messages let alone attending tea tarik gatherings. At times most do not even bother to call or sms back should they not be able to join the informal get together albeit the earnest confirmations they gave earlier on. Perhaps the obvious fact that there are no rewards in whatsoever forms that can be gotten from meeting up ever so often, beside, the fact, that it was the near impossible to arrange for a fortnightly assembly- even. Maybe, everyone is just too busy with work or too ensconced, in, his or her, niche in life, to, even care- less. To, reciprocate tit, for tat, to papa is, a, little bit infantile or the quite childish considering we are all old enough to be grandfathers- in our own rights.
How different things are in far away Bukit Tengkorak, where everybody is kinsfolk even though not at all related by marriage or otherwise. To say that everyone there quite swore upon the quaint as, yet quintessential neighborly spirit is an understatement whence that notion goes much beyond the ‘accepted’ criterion. True to the Prophet’s PBUH teaching of one’s neighbor being closer to one’s sibling the littlest cum rustic kampong or village folk is never without the ubiquitous infectious smile whenever we care to make their acquaintance even though anywhere for they truly have that much sincerity and caring feeling: living and breathing, inwardly within their beings. No wonder most of our ‘simple’ clan members only last the odd three days staying in K.L before desperately needing to go home due to the nauseating disgust they felt at the veritably revolting apathy and the quite, really, unpalatable, selfishness of their city brethren.
But then again, what are we to expect, when, everybody, nowadays, is, adjudicated by what car they are driving, where about they are staying and what, watch, they are wearing. Notwithstanding that the abhorrent, albeit, degenerate, yet, inconsequential, papalados must only, be the, here, there and everywhere, Nickel and Dime Man, Ne’er Titles how high nor Money how Big can change the modest, in perspective and in fad, person he is.
Ya mari kita dangdut SAMPAI PAGI!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
CERITA- CERITA 3
There, is no denial, that the, tender feelings, invoked, quite, the one more time, brought about, the peculiarly quaint presentiments of a time long past, and an, exhilaration long expired. It is, not, unlike, a, someone’s, relentless pining, for his lost youth, at the end of which, unexpectedly finding it but nearing the withering tethers of dear life itself. A cheesy oddity should someone forgives the pun. Papa, could only, squirm, at, the, very thought, a veritably, nauseating notion, should he be, the one, envisaged, to be that, pitiful someone but this time, hopelessly enamored with a pretty young thing old enough to be his daughter.
Exactly what happened, the near three quarters of a year ago, should visitors to the ramblings blog, care, to view, the much earlier posts. Her name was W.T. and papa even included the sobriquet Jelitawan, denoting her bombshell status because in his ‘losing touch with reality’ condition back then she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. However, when things had cooled off and papa got his sanity back, she was not that tantalizingly beautiful but just ordinarily pretty due mostly to her being young and impressionable, nothing more. Why was papa such an old fool? Perhaps, it has to do with a biological thing, male- menopause: maybe? Must have been that for it was very embarrassing, upon papa, reflecting back on the peculiarly, pitiful episode, in the, equally woeful and inconsequential chapter, embellishing his, rather- irrelevant ‘the ills that flesh is heir to’ narrative. (Life- Story)
W. T. was a salesperson and a horrible monster at that, she only wanted to exceed her sales quota and that was all she lived for. Utilizing, nearly all means, to ‘close the deal’, W.T would, dressed to the hilt, smiled, the most charming smile and emitted the sweetest of words, just to make the kill’- much to, the literal sense of the word. Upon signing the ubiquitous, ‘agreement’, she would, cut all ties, with the purchaser. Should there be the niggling bits like the National Registration Identification Card, photocopies that still has not been included, at the, outset; she would ask the bewildered old fool to fax or even courier the document to her office, and, she would not, be calling, just messaging. F…..k the girl, she was that evil, must have had Vlad Dracula’s genes in her blood. Then again, papa could be, sour grape, for he did ask her to marry him but, she flatly, albeit, justifiably refused his offer, for he was too old and too broke for her. Ha, Ha, Ha: Kudos to W.T. for having enough sense to spurn a mindless old bastard’s advances. How presumptuous can one get? Only sick old papa, he was that ‘cocksure’.
He had the ‘spurious’ inkling that he had the wisdom of age, thus, the upper hand during the entire ‘woebegone’ episode, until he realized albeit late in the play that he was actually the one being made the fool of. The accidental joker, or, rather, the, ‘joke’, really: the proverbial old fool- that was, humbled, by a street smart, young girl!
Enough: about, papa: now. The Good, Don Diego, did ask, about the two, ageing bachelor boys, being indifferent, to love, as a result of, having not gone through, the entirely smitten by a pretty little thing ( although the word little could be a little less politically correct as they could prefer the heavier ones to be the women in their lives ) circumstances- ever. Papa’s contention must only be that they did have the experience of relationships that did not end as they had hoped or the ones that turned sour the few times they had met, to the extent that they had lost all hope and resigned to the possibility that they could be bachelors for life. Howsoever as of late, papa did come to the knowledge that they are back to seriously dating girls albeit the a bit more mature ones (in their thirties- mostly) introduced by friends or relatives. The fact that they have met the ones they like and who are comfortable in their company together with the actuality that they had met the more than few times and will still be meeting or rather dating during times ahead brought much wonderful pointers to papa. He could only hope that unkel and Pak Mie would at last be getting their companions or quite so their ‘friends’ for life..Insyaallah-Insyaallah.
Exactly what happened, the near three quarters of a year ago, should visitors to the ramblings blog, care, to view, the much earlier posts. Her name was W.T. and papa even included the sobriquet Jelitawan, denoting her bombshell status because in his ‘losing touch with reality’ condition back then she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. However, when things had cooled off and papa got his sanity back, she was not that tantalizingly beautiful but just ordinarily pretty due mostly to her being young and impressionable, nothing more. Why was papa such an old fool? Perhaps, it has to do with a biological thing, male- menopause: maybe? Must have been that for it was very embarrassing, upon papa, reflecting back on the peculiarly, pitiful episode, in the, equally woeful and inconsequential chapter, embellishing his, rather- irrelevant ‘the ills that flesh is heir to’ narrative. (Life- Story)
W. T. was a salesperson and a horrible monster at that, she only wanted to exceed her sales quota and that was all she lived for. Utilizing, nearly all means, to ‘close the deal’, W.T would, dressed to the hilt, smiled, the most charming smile and emitted the sweetest of words, just to make the kill’- much to, the literal sense of the word. Upon signing the ubiquitous, ‘agreement’, she would, cut all ties, with the purchaser. Should there be the niggling bits like the National Registration Identification Card, photocopies that still has not been included, at the, outset; she would ask the bewildered old fool to fax or even courier the document to her office, and, she would not, be calling, just messaging. F…..k the girl, she was that evil, must have had Vlad Dracula’s genes in her blood. Then again, papa could be, sour grape, for he did ask her to marry him but, she flatly, albeit, justifiably refused his offer, for he was too old and too broke for her. Ha, Ha, Ha: Kudos to W.T. for having enough sense to spurn a mindless old bastard’s advances. How presumptuous can one get? Only sick old papa, he was that ‘cocksure’.
He had the ‘spurious’ inkling that he had the wisdom of age, thus, the upper hand during the entire ‘woebegone’ episode, until he realized albeit late in the play that he was actually the one being made the fool of. The accidental joker, or, rather, the, ‘joke’, really: the proverbial old fool- that was, humbled, by a street smart, young girl!
Enough: about, papa: now. The Good, Don Diego, did ask, about the two, ageing bachelor boys, being indifferent, to love, as a result of, having not gone through, the entirely smitten by a pretty little thing ( although the word little could be a little less politically correct as they could prefer the heavier ones to be the women in their lives ) circumstances- ever. Papa’s contention must only be that they did have the experience of relationships that did not end as they had hoped or the ones that turned sour the few times they had met, to the extent that they had lost all hope and resigned to the possibility that they could be bachelors for life. Howsoever as of late, papa did come to the knowledge that they are back to seriously dating girls albeit the a bit more mature ones (in their thirties- mostly) introduced by friends or relatives. The fact that they have met the ones they like and who are comfortable in their company together with the actuality that they had met the more than few times and will still be meeting or rather dating during times ahead brought much wonderful pointers to papa. He could only hope that unkel and Pak Mie would at last be getting their companions or quite so their ‘friends’ for life..Insyaallah-Insyaallah.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
AN IMPERTINENT WHIMSICALITY
It is with much reverence that papa embraced His Excellency, The Don Diego De La Vega’s deeply felt intimation of not luxuriating in, self- consolation, particularly so for papa- in his concurrent despair for whatever circumstances, that are veritably beyond his control. There is absolutely no reward to be made, whatsoever, considering his predicament as an ordinary citizen and a ‘dissolute’- dangdut, aficionado. Should he, be in a position, to effect changes, by virtue of, his ‘elevated’ position, in the consociation, his lamentations, then, could be, accepted as critical, and momentously substantive, for remediable, albeit, positive endeavors, to be inducted. However, papa’s: nondescript emplacement, as an, average component, of, the populace, together with, his quite regular ranking, as the ubiquitous, ‘man on the street,’ does not, at all, qualify him, as someone, to be heeded, let alone, be taken, seriously. The one thing, that papa, should, give enough thought, is to, shut up, and live life, as, it is, but not, withdrawing altogether, from vociferating, what is, on his, mind, from time to time. Exactly, what, he has, been doing, all, this time, in between, posts, in his, blog, describing, his, inconsequential ramblings, amidst, the multifarious, singing, and, dancing halls, in, and around, Kuala Lumpur.
However, so, the instances, whence, he ‘punches’ himself, at most times, the reason of which, could only be, to ‘bring to the fore’ his ‘impertinent’ world view, may sound, a bit, too drastic, especially, for readers, who are, not familiar, with his, style of writing. Although, not for, The Good Don, but papa, could only be very pleased, for, the uncomplicated reason, that, His Excellency, imparted, such heartfelt concerns, by, reminding papa, not to, dwell in woefulness. How kind of the Don. Even so, being sad, is actually, very remote, from, what, he was, actually experiencing- sentiments wise- that is, until quite recently.
Expecting the, ubiquitous, albeit archetypal, American accented, female voice, emanating from, the mobile company provided, answering service, when, papa called, Petite Yvette, he was, veritably astounded, when she, becomingly, answered, papa’s call. He was, the, microseconds after, truly, dumbfounded: to, the extent of, his characteristic, as, yet, innate stammering, began to emerge. Papa, relaxed, eased off, his ‘mystified’, state of mind, and, thus uttered, the much dated: “ Is that Yvette on the line? “ to which she quite tenderly declared, “yes, it is she”. She remembered him, the instance she heard his peculiarly ‘gruffly’ voice by mentioning, albeit, the bit, excitedly, “Is that Abang Zul?” Mind you, it, was not, Dato’ but Abang, notwithstanding, The Good Prince Fellow’s, unrelenting efforts, to make, known to, Yvette, the ‘spurious’, fact that, papa was, a Titled Personage, the first, time the, three, of them, were acquainted, the few, nights back.
Nevertheless, it, could be, said that, there was also the possibility that Petite Yvette saw through the whole ‘scam’. A, penetrating glance, that, veritably, ‘stripped’ papa, of any, trappings, that were, ‘attached’ onto, his person. His fake Rolex, his Kedai Kasut Yee Beng’s, Black pvc shoes, his Kamdar’s short sleeve shirt and his China imported, purchased at a General Store, in Ampang Park, Lei Deng’s, branded- dark trousers. The, fact that, most of, the items, were priced, at, the quintessential-29.99 Ringgit, threshold, excepting the, fake Rolex, of which, costs only 68 ringgit, makes- in essence- the person, papa, really, is- the aphoristic Nickel and Dime Man. But it, could not, be that, papa can sense things, Yvette was, not that, ‘diabolically’ materialistic, for he, too, can see, through her, and, from what, emanated from, deep inside, papa, was that, little Yvette, must only, be, sincere and honest. Nothing, of the, ‘dubious’ sort, Yvette, can only, be- genuine.
There, is also, the, niggling doubt, within papa, that Yvette, displayed, such ‘amiable’, representations, as a, result of, her being, deprived, of a, father figure, right, from childhood. A, much, pertinent form that, correctly should, mould, any persons, psyche, ever since, the tender years. Denied, only, by death, or, matrimonial- disputes. Papa without doubt is the ‘perfect embodiment’ of the rather elusive ‘father’ figure. What, was with, his streaks, of, silver hair, his slightly, bent back, the not so protruding paunch, weather beaten face and the characteristic, but teeny- weeny, little, bit of, a kind, of a, bowl- legged, walk.
Even so, there is, actually, no issue, here, considering, papa, as the, proverbial coward, wholesomely, near never, venturing beyond, the bedroom door, and, too old, to participate, in the, dating game, but, for golf, it is quite ok, for golf is too sublimed, in the, strict sense, of, the word, above and over, ‘love’ or even, ‘sex’, for, that matter. Tsk , tsk.
Taking, into account, that Yvette, agreed, to, a spot, of golf, when things, are not, so hectic- her exact words, papa, quite, looked forward, to, a game, with a, long lost, niece or a daughter, even, of whom, had just, recently; surfaced.
However, so, the instances, whence, he ‘punches’ himself, at most times, the reason of which, could only be, to ‘bring to the fore’ his ‘impertinent’ world view, may sound, a bit, too drastic, especially, for readers, who are, not familiar, with his, style of writing. Although, not for, The Good Don, but papa, could only be very pleased, for, the uncomplicated reason, that, His Excellency, imparted, such heartfelt concerns, by, reminding papa, not to, dwell in woefulness. How kind of the Don. Even so, being sad, is actually, very remote, from, what, he was, actually experiencing- sentiments wise- that is, until quite recently.
Expecting the, ubiquitous, albeit archetypal, American accented, female voice, emanating from, the mobile company provided, answering service, when, papa called, Petite Yvette, he was, veritably astounded, when she, becomingly, answered, papa’s call. He was, the, microseconds after, truly, dumbfounded: to, the extent of, his characteristic, as, yet, innate stammering, began to emerge. Papa, relaxed, eased off, his ‘mystified’, state of mind, and, thus uttered, the much dated: “ Is that Yvette on the line? “ to which she quite tenderly declared, “yes, it is she”. She remembered him, the instance she heard his peculiarly ‘gruffly’ voice by mentioning, albeit, the bit, excitedly, “Is that Abang Zul?” Mind you, it, was not, Dato’ but Abang, notwithstanding, The Good Prince Fellow’s, unrelenting efforts, to make, known to, Yvette, the ‘spurious’, fact that, papa was, a Titled Personage, the first, time the, three, of them, were acquainted, the few, nights back.
Nevertheless, it, could be, said that, there was also the possibility that Petite Yvette saw through the whole ‘scam’. A, penetrating glance, that, veritably, ‘stripped’ papa, of any, trappings, that were, ‘attached’ onto, his person. His fake Rolex, his Kedai Kasut Yee Beng’s, Black pvc shoes, his Kamdar’s short sleeve shirt and his China imported, purchased at a General Store, in Ampang Park, Lei Deng’s, branded- dark trousers. The, fact that, most of, the items, were priced, at, the quintessential-29.99 Ringgit, threshold, excepting the, fake Rolex, of which, costs only 68 ringgit, makes- in essence- the person, papa, really, is- the aphoristic Nickel and Dime Man. But it, could not, be that, papa can sense things, Yvette was, not that, ‘diabolically’ materialistic, for he, too, can see, through her, and, from what, emanated from, deep inside, papa, was that, little Yvette, must only, be, sincere and honest. Nothing, of the, ‘dubious’ sort, Yvette, can only, be- genuine.
There, is also, the, niggling doubt, within papa, that Yvette, displayed, such ‘amiable’, representations, as a, result of, her being, deprived, of a, father figure, right, from childhood. A, much, pertinent form that, correctly should, mould, any persons, psyche, ever since, the tender years. Denied, only, by death, or, matrimonial- disputes. Papa without doubt is the ‘perfect embodiment’ of the rather elusive ‘father’ figure. What, was with, his streaks, of, silver hair, his slightly, bent back, the not so protruding paunch, weather beaten face and the characteristic, but teeny- weeny, little, bit of, a kind, of a, bowl- legged, walk.
Even so, there is, actually, no issue, here, considering, papa, as the, proverbial coward, wholesomely, near never, venturing beyond, the bedroom door, and, too old, to participate, in the, dating game, but, for golf, it is quite ok, for golf is too sublimed, in the, strict sense, of, the word, above and over, ‘love’ or even, ‘sex’, for, that matter. Tsk , tsk.
Taking, into account, that Yvette, agreed, to, a spot, of golf, when things, are not, so hectic- her exact words, papa, quite, looked forward, to, a game, with a, long lost, niece or a daughter, even, of whom, had just, recently; surfaced.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
PETITE YVETTE
The ringing was, a bit muffled, indicating that the phone must have dropped under the driver’s seat but having searched numerous times under it together with pawing through the front passenger side, the hunt was futile. Papa has lost count as to how many times HRH, The Prince Fellow tried to locate the elusive handset by dialing papa’s number, each time registering the suppressed signature. Until papa decided to- think ‘out of the box’ and peeped under the car. Lo and behold it was lying there all along, about a foot inside, must have dropped out from the side of the driver’s seat when papa opened his section of the vehicle.
The club ‘Bisik’ was a bit- darkly lit, resulting in papa finding it a bit of a task to make out Kemmi from the four voluptuous girls prancing on stage. Upon, careful scrutiny, she turned out to be the one singing the upbeat number, the moment papa and The Prince Fellow entered the singing hall. She acknowledged papa and The Prince by waving at them but papa doubted if she had really recognized, him, as the illumination was quite subdued. However, when she came up close and shake hands with the two compatriots, papa could discern albeit slightly the word Dato’ or was it ‘Abang’, papa just could not be sure. It; was at, this juncture that Zan set foot into the lounge, sensing that he must have noticed papa and company sitting, not ten feet away, papa, expressively gesticulated, at Zan. He immediately recognized papa, and, moments after, sauntered to his table, He gestured at Kemmi to come join papa and gang. She complied and soon they were trying to make each other heard amidst the loud music, alongside, the, much spirited- singing.
The girls were good but the scene was not quite papa’s cup of tea, it was much too youngish and cha- cha and dangdut would seem to be out of place if they were to be included in the troupe’s repertoire, the reason, the genres, were not heard- being played at all. It was an entirely different: club atmosphere. Nearing twelve, the whole show was over, and papa, along with, The, HRH Prince had only been there much less than the good part of an hour. As the girls were tired, having played there from seven thirty in the evening, together with, the club, about, to close- only half an hour onwards, papa and Prince Fellow decided to jam somewhere else. Where exactly, could only be decided after the two of them had a drive around the seedier side of the city, being papa’s unquestionable- contention.
It was a veritably ‘amazed’ Prince Fellow, when fixing a gaze, at papa and Mummy Mimi whilst they were literally ‘nitpicking’ over the expected ‘cost’ for a ‘memorable’, evening-singing wise, that is- at Santana Karaoke Lounge. Knowing her ever since the early nineties when Mimi was only fresh out of school and heartily belting dance numbers in dangdut halls across the city, papa and her were literally quite ‘buddy- buddy’. Somewhat like papa being the, all knowing, elder from dangdut lore, Mimi could not really bluff him around. Anyway, papa, had, just to be sure that he, would not be fleeced indeterminately considering his miserly three hundred odd ringgit entertainment budget he, managed to scrounged from his overly tight- for the month’s- allotment. Without a whimper, the intense haggling ended, when Mimi, of, whom; only moments before, was furiously fingering, her incongruously large, hand held calculator, nonchalantly exclaimed “three hundred or three fifty- tops”! Ha- ha- ha: what fun it was!
The Karaoke room that Mimi chose for papa and Prince was situated along a corridor somewhere, after the much twisting and turning around the hall. The, place, can be said to be, not unlike, a medieval ‘maze’ to the extent of, the, The Prince, even, getting hopelessly lost, trying to locate the men’s room. However so, upon seated on the comfortable sofa like seating arrangement, a brightly painted door was conspicuously visible towards the side of the room. It was the toilet, much to the relief of the, Good Prince, whose, perceptibly, off contoured, countenance could not, at all, belie his torturous ‘discomfort’. Strange but the toilet must only be given its proper nomenclature; being in the strict sense of the word the ‘men’s room’. The reservoir was much higher up with the bowl albeit smallish and discernibly designed for male ‘genitalia’ only, situated about three feet above the floor. The mind boggles as, to how a, lady or a vertically challenged male person would have utilized the facility, papa should only guessed, they could only spray it all out, onto the floor, should the bladder not resist it any more. The, strange things, one, encounter these days!
It was only a few minutes later when, in tottered, Mimi with two, heavy set, girls in tow, citing they, were the only ones left, as it was already a bit late when papa and gang arrived at the club. Papa was just about to choose, as, regards, to who, amongst the two to sing with when Mimi suddenly remembered quite one more who has not been called yet. She was Yvette: it’s only, papa, just, embellishing, things, but, this time, adding the bit of the ‘French’ twist. Without waiting for an affirmative ‘yes’ from papa and The Prince, Mimi instantaneously entreated the two girls, to skedaddle back to the lounge’s main hall, leaving, only, little Yvette, behind.
She is in reality a ‘ubiquitous’ salary person, partaking in the hostess vocation on a part time basis due to constraints, as she had acclaimed: in the financial realm- what was with, a mortgage to pay, the car loan and a school going child to support, further to that- she is a divorcee. What can papa and The Prince, say except that Kudos to her for facing her realities ‘head on’ and pushing aside, altogether, the phantoms, of her, past. The, veritably palpable, albeit, ‘invisible’- inner strengths- of a woman. Contrary, to, what is, believed to be, she dances the cha-cha and dangdut, very well, fluidly reciprocating the multifarious steps that papa, set in motion, to the extent of following through gracefully; the difficult- slow cha- cha maneuver. Undeniably also, there was the something in her eyes that emitted the latent yet irrefutable corporeality, truly so, inwardly, within her being. In other words, her eyes would not lie: they were sincere, with, ne’er, a, glint- that, ostensibly, portrayed the, charade or the pantomime, inside- she was not acting.
The, reality that, she has, the ability, to converse, in commendable, English, did not escape, papa’s and The Prince’s, mindfulness. As, papa found it quite a task to choose songs from the much seasoned book listing the titles of song together with inputting into the computer the songs associating numbers, the reason being, he had forgotten, to include, his reading glasses, on the way out, of the house, The Prince had quite a field day chatting up Petite Yvette. It was then that The Prince hollered to papa the fact that little Yvette plays golf.
In less than no time, he pulled her aside, jotted down her number into his phone’s keypad and promised to ring her, in a weekend or two, ahead, for a spot of golf or an hour or so ‘swinging’ at the driving range. The notion that she could be a single handicapper did not enter his mind at that particular moment. Should that be the case then she could be his quintessential Golf Pro, coaching him the finer points of the ‘elusive’ golf swing, thought papa- upon realizing the possibility of the circumstances- the while later. Beside the fact that he is the embodiment of the ubiquitous- ‘homeless’ cum ‘hopeless’- golfer
The screen stopped playing songs, the corridor lights brightened up and the waiter entered the room bringing warm towels for the patrons to freshen up. It’s, time, to, go home. Even, so papa did envisage himself, The Prince and Petite Yvette sipping tea at the ‘club’ next to KBU, after a round of 9 hole golfing at the public course, the fleeting moment, whence, Yvette, sent the two, of them off, at the club’s, main entrance.
So, what: if, she; is a karaoke worker, by night, because, by day, she is still, an, Executive. Besides, papa and The, Prince, are not into the, relationship part, just, the buddy-buddy aspect.
For it is not everyday that an old fart, like papa gets the opportunity to strike a friendship with a young lady executive who plays golf, regardless, if she is a hostess by night or the Secretary General of The U.N. by dawn!
The club ‘Bisik’ was a bit- darkly lit, resulting in papa finding it a bit of a task to make out Kemmi from the four voluptuous girls prancing on stage. Upon, careful scrutiny, she turned out to be the one singing the upbeat number, the moment papa and The Prince Fellow entered the singing hall. She acknowledged papa and The Prince by waving at them but papa doubted if she had really recognized, him, as the illumination was quite subdued. However, when she came up close and shake hands with the two compatriots, papa could discern albeit slightly the word Dato’ or was it ‘Abang’, papa just could not be sure. It; was at, this juncture that Zan set foot into the lounge, sensing that he must have noticed papa and company sitting, not ten feet away, papa, expressively gesticulated, at Zan. He immediately recognized papa, and, moments after, sauntered to his table, He gestured at Kemmi to come join papa and gang. She complied and soon they were trying to make each other heard amidst the loud music, alongside, the, much spirited- singing.
The girls were good but the scene was not quite papa’s cup of tea, it was much too youngish and cha- cha and dangdut would seem to be out of place if they were to be included in the troupe’s repertoire, the reason, the genres, were not heard- being played at all. It was an entirely different: club atmosphere. Nearing twelve, the whole show was over, and papa, along with, The, HRH Prince had only been there much less than the good part of an hour. As the girls were tired, having played there from seven thirty in the evening, together with, the club, about, to close- only half an hour onwards, papa and Prince Fellow decided to jam somewhere else. Where exactly, could only be decided after the two of them had a drive around the seedier side of the city, being papa’s unquestionable- contention.
It was a veritably ‘amazed’ Prince Fellow, when fixing a gaze, at papa and Mummy Mimi whilst they were literally ‘nitpicking’ over the expected ‘cost’ for a ‘memorable’, evening-singing wise, that is- at Santana Karaoke Lounge. Knowing her ever since the early nineties when Mimi was only fresh out of school and heartily belting dance numbers in dangdut halls across the city, papa and her were literally quite ‘buddy- buddy’. Somewhat like papa being the, all knowing, elder from dangdut lore, Mimi could not really bluff him around. Anyway, papa, had, just to be sure that he, would not be fleeced indeterminately considering his miserly three hundred odd ringgit entertainment budget he, managed to scrounged from his overly tight- for the month’s- allotment. Without a whimper, the intense haggling ended, when Mimi, of, whom; only moments before, was furiously fingering, her incongruously large, hand held calculator, nonchalantly exclaimed “three hundred or three fifty- tops”! Ha- ha- ha: what fun it was!
The Karaoke room that Mimi chose for papa and Prince was situated along a corridor somewhere, after the much twisting and turning around the hall. The, place, can be said to be, not unlike, a medieval ‘maze’ to the extent of, the, The Prince, even, getting hopelessly lost, trying to locate the men’s room. However so, upon seated on the comfortable sofa like seating arrangement, a brightly painted door was conspicuously visible towards the side of the room. It was the toilet, much to the relief of the, Good Prince, whose, perceptibly, off contoured, countenance could not, at all, belie his torturous ‘discomfort’. Strange but the toilet must only be given its proper nomenclature; being in the strict sense of the word the ‘men’s room’. The reservoir was much higher up with the bowl albeit smallish and discernibly designed for male ‘genitalia’ only, situated about three feet above the floor. The mind boggles as, to how a, lady or a vertically challenged male person would have utilized the facility, papa should only guessed, they could only spray it all out, onto the floor, should the bladder not resist it any more. The, strange things, one, encounter these days!
It was only a few minutes later when, in tottered, Mimi with two, heavy set, girls in tow, citing they, were the only ones left, as it was already a bit late when papa and gang arrived at the club. Papa was just about to choose, as, regards, to who, amongst the two to sing with when Mimi suddenly remembered quite one more who has not been called yet. She was Yvette: it’s only, papa, just, embellishing, things, but, this time, adding the bit of the ‘French’ twist. Without waiting for an affirmative ‘yes’ from papa and The Prince, Mimi instantaneously entreated the two girls, to skedaddle back to the lounge’s main hall, leaving, only, little Yvette, behind.
She is in reality a ‘ubiquitous’ salary person, partaking in the hostess vocation on a part time basis due to constraints, as she had acclaimed: in the financial realm- what was with, a mortgage to pay, the car loan and a school going child to support, further to that- she is a divorcee. What can papa and The Prince, say except that Kudos to her for facing her realities ‘head on’ and pushing aside, altogether, the phantoms, of her, past. The, veritably palpable, albeit, ‘invisible’- inner strengths- of a woman. Contrary, to, what is, believed to be, she dances the cha-cha and dangdut, very well, fluidly reciprocating the multifarious steps that papa, set in motion, to the extent of following through gracefully; the difficult- slow cha- cha maneuver. Undeniably also, there was the something in her eyes that emitted the latent yet irrefutable corporeality, truly so, inwardly, within her being. In other words, her eyes would not lie: they were sincere, with, ne’er, a, glint- that, ostensibly, portrayed the, charade or the pantomime, inside- she was not acting.
The, reality that, she has, the ability, to converse, in commendable, English, did not escape, papa’s and The Prince’s, mindfulness. As, papa found it quite a task to choose songs from the much seasoned book listing the titles of song together with inputting into the computer the songs associating numbers, the reason being, he had forgotten, to include, his reading glasses, on the way out, of the house, The Prince had quite a field day chatting up Petite Yvette. It was then that The Prince hollered to papa the fact that little Yvette plays golf.
In less than no time, he pulled her aside, jotted down her number into his phone’s keypad and promised to ring her, in a weekend or two, ahead, for a spot of golf or an hour or so ‘swinging’ at the driving range. The notion that she could be a single handicapper did not enter his mind at that particular moment. Should that be the case then she could be his quintessential Golf Pro, coaching him the finer points of the ‘elusive’ golf swing, thought papa- upon realizing the possibility of the circumstances- the while later. Beside the fact that he is the embodiment of the ubiquitous- ‘homeless’ cum ‘hopeless’- golfer
The screen stopped playing songs, the corridor lights brightened up and the waiter entered the room bringing warm towels for the patrons to freshen up. It’s, time, to, go home. Even, so papa did envisage himself, The Prince and Petite Yvette sipping tea at the ‘club’ next to KBU, after a round of 9 hole golfing at the public course, the fleeting moment, whence, Yvette, sent the two, of them off, at the club’s, main entrance.
So, what: if, she; is a karaoke worker, by night, because, by day, she is still, an, Executive. Besides, papa and The, Prince, are not into the, relationship part, just, the buddy-buddy aspect.
For it is not everyday that an old fart, like papa gets the opportunity to strike a friendship with a young lady executive who plays golf, regardless, if she is a hostess by night or the Secretary General of The U.N. by dawn!
Monday, January 14, 2008
PAPA- ZIGZAGGING- TO NOWHERE
Having the moralistic valorousness to concur with one’s miscalculation is, in essence, meritorious. Verily the inexorable vestiges of an implacable psyche, bottom lining a conscious collective, that, veritably, dictate the minimum standards, still prevailing in a mindful consociation albeit the inherent cynicism pervading- across the citizenry.
Kudos, to, the, afflicted, person or persons: for, having, the ethical valiancy, to yield passage to, their oversights. All, in all a commendable act, considering, the furtherance to the malefaction, whence, they decided to give up their lofty posts, and literally disappear into the woodworks. Could these be the precursors to the ‘illustrious- times ahead’, should the multitudinous cynics, be pushed aside? Highly- unlikely, taking into account, the, near half- century, of a peculiarly, ‘injurious statecraft’ being exercised throughout the realm. However, earnest, hopes and aspirations; must, never be disparaged for history is replete with, the arrogant and boastful being brought down by the unostentatious, yet all, the more- righteous. Lending credence to the insuppressible adage: ‘the meek- shall inherit the earth’, and, in turn, the malevolent notables will perish with their intransigent yet ‘overblown egos’. A fitting end to the ‘autocrats of the cosmos’, the anachronisms- in a universe buffeted by the uncertainties of depleting fossil fuels and imperiled food sources, threatened by the ineluctable, but, as yet, adverse, effects of global warming. How, in heavens can one wallow in the comforts of an expiring ‘petroleum economy’ when a ‘hydrogen based one’ is, literally, ‘lingering’ in the pipeline.
Papa could say just anything, could not he, for he still has ‘Skull Hill’ to skedaddle to, along with his ‘infernal dangdut dance floors, to, prance on. A ‘wretched’ pastime that equally befits a ‘seedy’ degenerate albeit ‘graying’ character that rightly should not be given any ‘space’ to pen his irrelevant ‘postulations’. F…..k you papa, just keep your thoughts to your self and what do you know about the intricate- ‘inner workings’ of the world. You stammering village idiot you!
Kudos, to, the, afflicted, person or persons: for, having, the ethical valiancy, to yield passage to, their oversights. All, in all a commendable act, considering, the furtherance to the malefaction, whence, they decided to give up their lofty posts, and literally disappear into the woodworks. Could these be the precursors to the ‘illustrious- times ahead’, should the multitudinous cynics, be pushed aside? Highly- unlikely, taking into account, the, near half- century, of a peculiarly, ‘injurious statecraft’ being exercised throughout the realm. However, earnest, hopes and aspirations; must, never be disparaged for history is replete with, the arrogant and boastful being brought down by the unostentatious, yet all, the more- righteous. Lending credence to the insuppressible adage: ‘the meek- shall inherit the earth’, and, in turn, the malevolent notables will perish with their intransigent yet ‘overblown egos’. A fitting end to the ‘autocrats of the cosmos’, the anachronisms- in a universe buffeted by the uncertainties of depleting fossil fuels and imperiled food sources, threatened by the ineluctable, but, as yet, adverse, effects of global warming. How, in heavens can one wallow in the comforts of an expiring ‘petroleum economy’ when a ‘hydrogen based one’ is, literally, ‘lingering’ in the pipeline.
Papa could say just anything, could not he, for he still has ‘Skull Hill’ to skedaddle to, along with his ‘infernal dangdut dance floors, to, prance on. A ‘wretched’ pastime that equally befits a ‘seedy’ degenerate albeit ‘graying’ character that rightly should not be given any ‘space’ to pen his irrelevant ‘postulations’. F…..k you papa, just keep your thoughts to your self and what do you know about the intricate- ‘inner workings’ of the world. You stammering village idiot you!
Monday, January 7, 2008
CERITA- CERITA 2
It was with much joy in papa’s heart to have observed, Senor Zorro’s comment within the Nostalgic Notion Post, for it was quite a long hiatus since The Honorable Sir last annotation. We, meaning papalados, Prince Guy and Jinair- being the citizens of the ramblings blog, have been quite bewildered, wondering what onerous ness may have afflicted him. However so, knowing Zorro- The, Popular Hero would never succumbed to anything Earthly and Un portentous, the ramblings subjects knew deep in their hearts, Zorro would yet again surface, only this time more fiery and ever so stout hearted.
There were, amongst the friends the littlest conjecture that The Honorable Zorro could have partaken in a Spiritual Sabbatical- a little time off, to, further reinforce his inner strengths, so, as to moreover intensify his illustrious battles against the evils of the World.
Last, but not least and for what its worth- a mask may hide, what was, written on the Face, but not what, was, etched, in the, Heart. Kudos To You Senor Zorro. It is truly wonderful to hear from you again.
Your friend
Papalados,
There were, amongst the friends the littlest conjecture that The Honorable Zorro could have partaken in a Spiritual Sabbatical- a little time off, to, further reinforce his inner strengths, so, as to moreover intensify his illustrious battles against the evils of the World.
Last, but not least and for what its worth- a mask may hide, what was, written on the Face, but not what, was, etched, in the, Heart. Kudos To You Senor Zorro. It is truly wonderful to hear from you again.
Your friend
Papalados,
Sunday, January 6, 2008
KEMMI THE SINGER
It started with, an, sms from Bro K, informing about a prestigious group currently performing at K lounge, it was a message that, requested papa- forward to friends.
As papa was not that keen to go visit the dance hall after the nearly quarter of a year being absent from the place, together with the honorific appellative invoked by the club subjects whenever they stumbled upon his presence within the premises, resulted, in which, papa finding it, quite unnerving whenever the nomenclature connoting the singing hall was exclaimed. He would, not want, to visit, the place again, but when he called, Bro K, to further, verify, the sms, along with, the subsequent little chat, they had, ensuing the call, papa was electrified. The consequence of which, eventuated in the littlest epiphany, that he was indubitably- joggled into- that- hence forth, literally- ‘swung’ one hundred and eighty degrees the corporeal disheartenment much transparent within papa’s, inconsequential, being. For Bro K, just had to mention that he was going to meet an agent and his bevy of beautiful singers at the club; thenceforth, in its own peculiar wise, the thought of being acquainted with the pretty crooners, somewhat revolutionized papa’s apprehensiveness for the place.
The club was quite the way it was ever since papa last visited it, except for the significant number of new faces amongst the staff. All the more better thought papa to himself, due to the fact that near everybody working there could not have been privy to the Bogus Dato’ charade that was played in the dance hall- sometime back. Papa was a bit late to arrive, as he had to wait up for Lanchapap, of whom, did not know- of the place.
In the near distance reaching to the stage, he could distinctly make out the slightly larger than life silhouette of Pak Mi and an excitedly hands waving, Bro K, adorning a fashionable Straw Hat. He was beckoning papa and Lanchapap to join him at the counter.
After the customary handshakes, Bro K, immediately pulled papa to the other end of the counter, where he introduced him to Zan and his three attractive singers. The girls were, surprisingly quite courteous and veritably- near ‘polished’, without the irksome ‘air’ sometimes associated with young ‘wannabe’ artistes. They were definitely not the annoying bimbo ‘airheads’, undoubtedly very pretty, yet there was the characteristic vivacity in them that somehow could liven up any dreadful situation. Unmistakably, of whom, the bubbliest; being Kemmi- the lead singer and the prettiest among the three. Zan instructed Kemmi to include papa’s number in her handset, in which, to call him later on, so that she could, reserved, papa and friends, a table near the stage, at the club they were debuting on the coming New Years Eve. Coincidentally, Zan has appointed Bro K, to be the official emcee for the much auspicious and very joyful evening. However so, it must be said that Bro K did introduce papa to Zan’s group as Dato’ Papalados, of whom is actually as bogus as anyone could be, a titled personage that papa used to parade around at the K club- the while back. Instigated by Bro K as a fun filled and harmless prank amongst friends, neither sinister nor malicious, just plain old horseplay and verily ‘innocuous’ all the way. Could it be that, it, was this, honorific appellative that invoked Zan and the girls to accord such decorous gestures to papa, but he doubted it, because, deep inside, papa was pretty- sure that, they were genuinely ‘warm hearted’.
Upon returning to his side of the counter, papa joined in the exchanging of light banter Pak Mi, Bro K and Lanchapap were having with Maia, the one of two- Lady Crooners currently performing at K Lounge. It was during this whoop-de-do, that papa, good naturedly requested Maia sang the song ‘Sway’ at her next session, of which she replied, “of course”, but she would not sing it except for Shuib the band- leader, as the song suited a male voice.
The ‘Sway’ intro was, vividly perceived, its ditty permeating throughout the dance hall, not ‘ear splitting’ but rather alleviative and all, the more soothing, assuaging the aphoristic ‘frayed nerves’- should proper representations, need be implored. Bro K immediately pulled Kak Yah onto the dance floor leaving Abang Man quite lost for words, followed by the more than few couples, uninhibitedly- needing to prance to the much catchy Cha- Cha beat. Zan’s girls too, strutted to the dance floor, an incongruous three persons team, there by, prompting papa to teasingly gestured at Kemmi, jestingly inquiring, if he could join her, dance the irrepressible number. She gesticulated back, as if saying, “By All Means”. The, instant after- papa was already facing her, shuffling, his, heart out. Kemmi, zestfully reciprocated papa’s, multifarious albeit frisky maneuvers, cajoling him all the way through; to the extent of papa, gleefully, exclaimed the word “Orang Lama” or Am an ‘Old Hand’ in English, making known his longtime ‘status’ in Kuala Lumpur’s, Popular Dance- Sphere.
Alas! It was the band’s last session and the club is closing down for the evening, papa, Pak Mi, Lanchapap and Bro K gulped their remaining Diet Cokes and Ginger Ales, resignedly paced to the exit but not without stopping at where Zan and the girls were still sitting. Having conducted the wonted backslapping and handshakes with the delightful troupe, with one of the, girls, even kissing papa’s hands, the, foursome bade goodbye to Zan and his singers. Even so, papa did manage to interject an invitation to Kemmi to join them Dangduting- afterwards, as it was only half past one in the evening. She answered, entreating him and his buddies, to come see her and friends, sing at the club ‘Bisik’ or ‘Whispers’, situated right next to Ampang Park, she, continued by saying “you can cha- cha and dangdut all you want then”. They all laughed about it yet papa and gang did not go to any dangdut clubs, after that, for they were all tired and went straight home without stopping at Deen’s Nasi Kandar.
Oh! Bright Eyed and Youthful- Kemmi- The Singer, for, that fleeting moment that lasted a song- you did make a Middle Aged Has been- Happy. If only papa were, twenty- five years younger. Anyway, friends and citizens of the Ramblings Blog, lets all go see Kemmi and friends sing at ‘Bisik’.
As papa was not that keen to go visit the dance hall after the nearly quarter of a year being absent from the place, together with the honorific appellative invoked by the club subjects whenever they stumbled upon his presence within the premises, resulted, in which, papa finding it, quite unnerving whenever the nomenclature connoting the singing hall was exclaimed. He would, not want, to visit, the place again, but when he called, Bro K, to further, verify, the sms, along with, the subsequent little chat, they had, ensuing the call, papa was electrified. The consequence of which, eventuated in the littlest epiphany, that he was indubitably- joggled into- that- hence forth, literally- ‘swung’ one hundred and eighty degrees the corporeal disheartenment much transparent within papa’s, inconsequential, being. For Bro K, just had to mention that he was going to meet an agent and his bevy of beautiful singers at the club; thenceforth, in its own peculiar wise, the thought of being acquainted with the pretty crooners, somewhat revolutionized papa’s apprehensiveness for the place.
The club was quite the way it was ever since papa last visited it, except for the significant number of new faces amongst the staff. All the more better thought papa to himself, due to the fact that near everybody working there could not have been privy to the Bogus Dato’ charade that was played in the dance hall- sometime back. Papa was a bit late to arrive, as he had to wait up for Lanchapap, of whom, did not know- of the place.
In the near distance reaching to the stage, he could distinctly make out the slightly larger than life silhouette of Pak Mi and an excitedly hands waving, Bro K, adorning a fashionable Straw Hat. He was beckoning papa and Lanchapap to join him at the counter.
After the customary handshakes, Bro K, immediately pulled papa to the other end of the counter, where he introduced him to Zan and his three attractive singers. The girls were, surprisingly quite courteous and veritably- near ‘polished’, without the irksome ‘air’ sometimes associated with young ‘wannabe’ artistes. They were definitely not the annoying bimbo ‘airheads’, undoubtedly very pretty, yet there was the characteristic vivacity in them that somehow could liven up any dreadful situation. Unmistakably, of whom, the bubbliest; being Kemmi- the lead singer and the prettiest among the three. Zan instructed Kemmi to include papa’s number in her handset, in which, to call him later on, so that she could, reserved, papa and friends, a table near the stage, at the club they were debuting on the coming New Years Eve. Coincidentally, Zan has appointed Bro K, to be the official emcee for the much auspicious and very joyful evening. However so, it must be said that Bro K did introduce papa to Zan’s group as Dato’ Papalados, of whom is actually as bogus as anyone could be, a titled personage that papa used to parade around at the K club- the while back. Instigated by Bro K as a fun filled and harmless prank amongst friends, neither sinister nor malicious, just plain old horseplay and verily ‘innocuous’ all the way. Could it be that, it, was this, honorific appellative that invoked Zan and the girls to accord such decorous gestures to papa, but he doubted it, because, deep inside, papa was pretty- sure that, they were genuinely ‘warm hearted’.
Upon returning to his side of the counter, papa joined in the exchanging of light banter Pak Mi, Bro K and Lanchapap were having with Maia, the one of two- Lady Crooners currently performing at K Lounge. It was during this whoop-de-do, that papa, good naturedly requested Maia sang the song ‘Sway’ at her next session, of which she replied, “of course”, but she would not sing it except for Shuib the band- leader, as the song suited a male voice.
The ‘Sway’ intro was, vividly perceived, its ditty permeating throughout the dance hall, not ‘ear splitting’ but rather alleviative and all, the more soothing, assuaging the aphoristic ‘frayed nerves’- should proper representations, need be implored. Bro K immediately pulled Kak Yah onto the dance floor leaving Abang Man quite lost for words, followed by the more than few couples, uninhibitedly- needing to prance to the much catchy Cha- Cha beat. Zan’s girls too, strutted to the dance floor, an incongruous three persons team, there by, prompting papa to teasingly gestured at Kemmi, jestingly inquiring, if he could join her, dance the irrepressible number. She gesticulated back, as if saying, “By All Means”. The, instant after- papa was already facing her, shuffling, his, heart out. Kemmi, zestfully reciprocated papa’s, multifarious albeit frisky maneuvers, cajoling him all the way through; to the extent of papa, gleefully, exclaimed the word “Orang Lama” or Am an ‘Old Hand’ in English, making known his longtime ‘status’ in Kuala Lumpur’s, Popular Dance- Sphere.
Alas! It was the band’s last session and the club is closing down for the evening, papa, Pak Mi, Lanchapap and Bro K gulped their remaining Diet Cokes and Ginger Ales, resignedly paced to the exit but not without stopping at where Zan and the girls were still sitting. Having conducted the wonted backslapping and handshakes with the delightful troupe, with one of the, girls, even kissing papa’s hands, the, foursome bade goodbye to Zan and his singers. Even so, papa did manage to interject an invitation to Kemmi to join them Dangduting- afterwards, as it was only half past one in the evening. She answered, entreating him and his buddies, to come see her and friends, sing at the club ‘Bisik’ or ‘Whispers’, situated right next to Ampang Park, she, continued by saying “you can cha- cha and dangdut all you want then”. They all laughed about it yet papa and gang did not go to any dangdut clubs, after that, for they were all tired and went straight home without stopping at Deen’s Nasi Kandar.
Oh! Bright Eyed and Youthful- Kemmi- The Singer, for, that fleeting moment that lasted a song- you did make a Middle Aged Has been- Happy. If only papa were, twenty- five years younger. Anyway, friends and citizens of the Ramblings Blog, lets all go see Kemmi and friends sing at ‘Bisik’.
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