Sogno ( I Dream)

Va ti aspettero
Il fiore nel giardino segna il tempo
Qui disegnero il giorno poi del tuo ritorno
Sei cosi sicura del mio amore
Da portarlo via con te
Chiuso nelle mani
che ti porti al viso
Ripensando ancora a me
E se ti servira lo mostri al mondo
Che non sa che vita c'e
Nel cuore che distratto sembra assente
Non sa che vita c'e
In quello che soltanto il cuore sente
Non sa.

"Kemana ?"
"Kesana sebentar"
"Aku tunggu sini, k ?"
"Ok"

Drtttt.....drttt.....drtttt.....
Bunyi alarm getar dari handphoneku dan angka digital di monitornya menunjukan jam 4.30 pagi. Sepotong mimpi pendek mengakhiri tidurku.

Kubuka keran air dan menampung air dingin yang keluar dengan kedua tanganku serta membasuh mukaku.

"Go, and take my feelings with you in your cupped hands so you can always feel them when you put your hands on your face". Terngiang terjemahan sepotong lirik dari sebuah lagu Itali dalam benak sambil merasakan dinginnya air menyentuh kulit mukaku.

Qui ti aspettero
E rubero i baci al tempo
Tempo che non basta a cancellare
Coi ricordi il desiderio che
Resta chiuso nelle mani
che ti porti al viso
Ripensando a me
E ti accompagnera passando le citta da me
Da me che sono ancora qui
E sogno cose che non so di te
Dove sara che strada fara il tuo ritorno
Sogno

"Hapus aja semua"
"Semua ?"
"Iya, block all dan cut"
"Ok"

Fungsi cut and paste memang praktis untuk menghapus maupun memindahkan data yang besar dalam sekejap.

"Sayang dihapus semua"
"Ga papa, masih ada di memory kok, mau diliat balik?
"Iya"
"Control V aja"

Sebuah senyum manis muncul mensyukuri kehebatan penyimpanan memori dari sebuah kejadian.

Qui ti aspettero
E rubero i baci al tempo
Sogno

"Mau kemana ?"
"Pergi"
"Aku tunggu ?"
"Ga usah"

Panas yang terik membuatku terbangun dari tidur siangku diteras belakang. Sambil bangkit dari kursi malas kusambar sebotol Aqua dimeja dan langsung kuteguk sekaligus kusiram kemukaku. Masih setengah mengantuk dan kepanasan kuletakkan kembali botol Aqua besar itu dimeja dengan posisi miring. Botol yang setengah penuh itu jatuh dan sebagian isinya tumpah keatas keyboard laptopku.

"Warning: Keep away computer from source of liquid and protect from damp area". Terngiang sebuah bunyi petunjuk pemeliharaan komputer dari buku panduan

Un rumore il vento che mi sveglia
E sei gia qua.

Kali ini bukan mimpi. Aku usap keringat dari mukaku sambil menatap layar monitorku dan merenung atas hilangnya memori dari semua kejadian dalam sekejap.

Drtttt.....drttt.....drtttt.....
Bunyi alarm getar dari handphoneku dan angka digital di monitornya menunjukan jam 4.30 pagi. Sebuah mimpi panjang yang terdiri dari berbagai mimpi-mimpi pendek mengakhiri tidurku.

Aku duduk dipinggir tempat tidurku memikirkan harus melalui hari yang masih sangat panjang.

Here I will wait for you
And steal kisses from time
I dream
A noise, the wind awakens me
And you're already here.

Terngiang kembali terjemahan lirik bait terakhir dari lagu yang sama dalam mimpiku tadi. Aku tersenyum pahit menyadari kenyataan, mimpi dan sepotong lirik lagu.

"Nobody's here, I'm alone" kataku pelan, sendiri.

Senseless Sensuality

The driver turned on his radio without even asking me whether I would mind if he listened to some music. I sat in the back seat not really caring and closed my eyes. Soon I heard through my closed eyes the not so old driver started humming to this unknown song. I sighed silently but let him had his moment of joy. I was just too exhausted to even mind his out of tune humming and kept my eyes closed and tried to get a moment of sleep. Luckily the out of tune hummer knew where to take me when I told him earlier about my address.

"Good, then don't even bother to ask me which route I want to take, okay. I want to sleep" I said.
"I can't promise you we don't get stuck in traffic" he replied trying to build some way out of getting the blame in case we got stuck in a rush hour traffic jam.

"Don't you turned into a politician on me, will you?" I sarcastically said to him. "The whole damn city is a traffic jam at this hour, so don't you worry about getting the blame to some broken promises" I continued with even a higher tone of cynicism.

"Everyone is a damn politician" I sighed silently and slouch back in the back seat.

The unknown song has gone and replace by another unknown song. The humming loyally followed another alien tune. I moved my hand from a folding position to my side and started to feel the surface of the vinyl backseat of the cab with my palm.

"Felt so different from leather" I started to thought about the feeling of genuine animal skin and tried to formed a scent of real leather in my sleepy head.

Suddenly I heard a familiar song I knew from a long time ago came out from the radio. My mind started to go with the mood and feeling slightly nostalgic. The driver was still doing his out of tune humming.

"Stop it dude, I know this one" I said.
"Sorry ?" he replied
"Stop the noise you're making, it ruined the song" I said, this time louder.
"Ah, you have memory with this song, huh? he grinned from behind the rear view mirror.
"Yes and you are destroying a beautiful picture so shut up !" I said.
"Okay...okay happy daydreaming" he said, this time the grinned grew wider.

"Jerk !" I cursed silently.

I closed my eyes again and started feeling the moodiness brought by the song, awakening some strong feelings about the past. I smiled and continued to enjoy the ride to the past. The song seemed to evoke all the senses in me and brought back my addictions to emotional pleasure and pain as well.

"the delights of sensuality " I whispered silently.

The song was over and replace by a voice of a radio announcer. The driver switched to several other stations before he stopped at one that was playing another alien song.

"Now you can make the noise again" I told him.
"I don't like this one" he said.
"Good, then don't make the noise" I said in an ordering tone.
"Okay sir !" he said.

The previous nostalgic song somewhat made my sleepiness gone away and replaces it with a few physical and emotional tingling feelings. The imaginary leather I felt just now brought me to a touching of skin scene on a leather sofa somewhere. I could hear the soft whispering noise of a movie unwatched on the TV and movement beneath a soft thin wool blanket.

I close my eyes tighter as if to fight the humming noise that has started again so it won't wrecked the sofa scene. It worked and I started to drowned in deeper emotions. This time it was the scent of wet grass shortly after a morning rain coming in from an open window, This has brought another scene of white bed sheets and scent of musky body odor mixed with freshly brewed coffee.

"Caffeine maybe has always been a stimulating experience, but that and the scent of rain and the sight of naked skin..." I couldn't even continued with my thought and instead sighed again as I got more intoxicated in a mix of emotional pleasure and pain.

I read somewhere that people who are exceptionally sensual live for the moment and are not hung up on the future or the past.

"Bullshit !" I cursed within.

What life has to offer is all about expectations of the future and pain of the past. Without them there won't be any strong feeling to relate to and all the five human senses won't mean anything.

"It won't be living" I concluded.

But then I thought again, the strong senses that made me drowned in emotions without a life vest won't mean anything either since I realized I felt it so strongly because I'm alone !.

"Damn senseless sensuality" I screamed, still silently.
"Okay sir, we're here" the driver said.

I paid him the fare and left a big tip. It was raining again outside. Wet and damp and yes it smelled nice. I finally concluded that I rather keep finding the smell of rain pleasing or the taste of fresh marmalade soothing even though they brought me pain. I got out of the cab and heard the hummer thanking me.

"Thank you boss, you're very kind" he said.
"Your welcome, you made me a very unhappy person" I said and closed the door.

I Say A Little Prayer

The moment I wake up
Before I put on my makeup
I say a little prayer for you
While combing my hair, now,
And wondering what dress to wear, now,
I say a little prayer for you

Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart
and I will love you
Forever, forever, we never will part
Oh, how I'll love you
Together, together, that's how it must be
To live without you
Would only be heartbreak for me.

I run for the bus, dear,
While riding I think of us, dear,
I say a little prayer for you.
At work I just take time
And all through my coffee break-time,
I say a little prayer for you.

Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart
and I will love you
Forever, forever we never will part
Oh, how I'll love you
Together, together, that's how it must be
To live without you
Would only be heartbreak for me.

My darling believe me,
For me there is no one
But you.

The Movie:
A soundtrack from "My Best Friend's Wedding". What's different about this movie from most romantic comedy is that the heroine and hero did not ended up together.

The Song:
Sang by the lady of soul Aretha Franklin

The Real Life:
A little prayer for a best friend..
...to be brave
...to be tolerance
...to endure
...to have faith
...to be acceptance
...and to still have passion and believes in your dreams
There are those who love you.
Good luck.

Untitled Confusion

It's funny how when you know that you were asleep but you're feeling something else that felt so real. Next thing you know you woke up sad in the middle of the night, lighted up a cigarette and thinking about this;

flat words
casual gestures

felt like a sharp pain

closed doors
unshared thoughts

felt like a cold solitude

they say it takes two to tango
what it feels now is an endless one way highway

felt like an empty cold desert night

Next thing you know you felt sleepiness creeping back in and you're thankful for that.
Tomorrow is another day.

A Computer Named Elodie

She looked at me.

With a rigid smile with no hint of emotion but a mechanical twitch on her face. A movement created by some complicated back process programming language that sent by the central processing unit to respond to a reaction by a human near her.

Dress all black.

In a John Galiano’s outfit and moves with ease around the room keeping her eyes on the powerful giant computer screen displaying an image a satellite picture of the a deserted land somewhere in the Middle East. Her slender yet full figured body bends as she touches few buttons enhancing the curves of a perfectly build woman. Her eyes focus on the screen with an intense look that contradicts the face of a melancholic beauty that seems to come from an unknown ethnic origin.

I watched her.

The almost human robot with skills ranging from mastering all martial arts known to the world to a DJ spinning the latest rave including the intelligent of understanding ancient Egyptian manuscripts and Chinese Caligprahy.

She looked at me.

This time the usual empty gaze flickered momentarily with a touch of human emotion.

Sadness.

A computer named Elodie had a mechanical malfunction that cause her to have a melody of heart beat.

She looked at me.

I gazed back and understood that she did not want me to fix the malfunction and to just let it be.

She looked at me.

I smiled and my gaze told her that I understood.

A long forgotten unfinished writing. Tonight it is done.

Sisi Kiri Bangku Taman

Mataku menatap sebuah sudut sepi di ujung sana. Sebuah ruang hampa yang kini hanya bertepikan sandaran tangan kayu. Bangku taman dari kayu jati tua dengan ruang yang hanya cukup untuk dua orang itu terasa seperti lautan lepas tanpa daratan dilihat dari dimana aku duduk di sisi kanan. 

Termangu aku duduk menatap berbagai guratan-guratan panjang maupun pendek yang ada di sandaran kayu dan dudukan bangku itu. Setiap guratan garis seakan bercerita kembali kepadaku kisah-kisah lama yang muncul dalam bayangan layar bergerak di kepalaku. 

Kembali mataku menatap sudut kiri bangku taman itu. Sisa hujan semalam masih meninggalkan bekas noda basah dengan warna yang lebih gelap dibanding bagian lain. Setetes air hujan bahkan  masih tergenang di sebuah lubang kecil disandaran tangan kayu. Permukaannya yang bening dan tenang menikmati keberadaannya di ruang kosong tak berpenghuni seakan seperti bola mata yang menatapku kembali dengan riang. Aku menatap kembali dan mencoba berdialog dengan tetes air hujan yang riang itu. Terpikir olehku mungkin dia senang nasibnya lebih baik dari para temannya yang jatuh disisi kanan bangku. Tetes-tetes air hujan yang kini telah lenyap entah terlempar atau terserap kulit atau pakaianku selama aku sering duduk terdiam disudut itu. 

Mataku berbisik kepada si tetes air hujan dan meminta maaf telah melenyapkan teman-temannya. Sering terpikir mungkin lebih baik aku tidak duduk lagi disudutku dan pergi meninggalkan bangku taman itu. Mata basah riang itu seakan tersenyum dan mengajak ku untuk tetap menemaninya.

"ini adalah tempatmu dan sudut itu adalah dirimu. Jangan takut, teman-temanku akan kembali lagi di hari hujan yang berikutnya" katanya

"aku merasa ada yang hilang dan ini bukan tempatku lagi" bisik ku

"sisi itu sudah menjadi tempatmu dan guratan garis cerita yang ada disini tidak akan pernah hilang. bangku ini adalah rumah bagimu" katanya lagi

"aku sebelum ini tidak pernah memperhatikanmu" aku meminta maaf kepada teman baruku itu

"senyum mu setiap kali hujan turun adalah perhatianmu kepadaku dan teman-temanku" katanya tetap riang

Aku tersenyum melihat kepolosan dan ketulusan setetes air hujan itu. 

"duduklah disisi ini. jangan takut kehilangan diriku karena bagian dari ku selalu akan kembali ke bangku ini setiap kali hujan" katanya lagi

Aku mengangguk dan tersenyum mendengar janjinya yang mencoba menenangkan hatiku.

"Aku akan coba pada waktunya nanti untuk duduk disisi mu" jawabku berjanji

"Jangan lupa untuk membawa lemon cheesecake kesukaan mu. Aku suka aroma jeruknya" dia mengingatkanku atas salah satu ritual di bangku taman itu

Aku menganguk lagi dan seakan bisa merasakan sisa rasa jeruk di lidahku dari entah kapan saat terakhir kali aku memakan sepotong lemon cheesecake.

Kiss My Sweet Ashes (Part 2)

4.30 pm rainy afternoon sometime in May...

Mother Nature was playing one of her weird tricks again this week by showering the city with drizzles and sometime heavy rain in the middle of May. Although it was nothing to complaint about from my part as I always welcomed a dreamy rainy day anytime of the year, I realized that global warming was not just a theory anymore.

I finally got out of the car after a heavy negotiation with a narrow parking space across a cafe where my next appointment was waiting for me. Putting up a hood of my windbreaker to shelter my shoulder length hair from the drizzles I waited patiently to cross the two-ways street. Standing next to the parking guy I felt glad that I put on my slip – on ankle high waterproof suede shoes today. I watched raindrops just slipped off the leather surface before it had time to put any moisture on the shoes. The suede leather is putting up a better fight with the rain water than me trying to seek an opening to cross the street from the fast passing by of sleek, latest model cars with merciless drivers who did not feel the need to slow down and let a pedestrian in the rain the chance to cross the street.

“Dumb ass city snobs of a dumb ass city who made any person on foot felt like a freaking low class caste” I cursed within.

This sudden shame of being a lame pedestrian in the rain and the ego to both expressing my rights of a public street as well as to compete with my slip – on shoes, I shamelessly decided to cross the street on the expense of a blaring car horn coming from an army green Range Rover from my right. Between the car wipers I saw a middle age lady driver in dark Jackie O glasses. I complimented on her blaring car horn with a nice “fuck you” smile and added a finger gesture to support my thoughts of her.

“she must has a really blinding bright future ahead of her to wear dark glasses in a weather like this” I wondered as I got to the other side of the street and opened the café’s door. Another blaring horn was heard, most likely Jackie O was thanking me for the finger gesture.

“Another sound coming from that Jackie O wannabe bitch is really going to kill any dreamy mood left in me from this nice rainy afternoon” the fears of a ruined rainy day feeling began to creep in as I walked in but luckily those fears were deleted by the sweet smile of a female attendant who greeted me. Briefly forgotten about the Jackie O character I smiled back and signaled with my hand for a table for two. With unforced politeness she gave a genuine sweet smile again and told me to just choose any table in the room. I thanked her and picked a table by the wall which divided the room in half as I saw a corner table by the window was already taken.

“…why can’t at least rainy day turned people to be sweet like her” my mind went back to the crossing street episode which I thought was already forgotten. Coffee aroma filled the place that has a rather wide range offering of coffee on its menu. I knew that I was going to be early for this appointment and welcomed the thought of spending some time alone with myself and a shot of espresso. Ordering just that with another attendant who had a rose tattoo on her shoulder I then sat back and looked at my table top. It was standard table setting for any neighborhood bistro with salt and pepper container, napkin holder and an ashtray. Quickly they got to meet their new companion of my cigarette and lighter. Waiting for my order I played around with the clean white ceramic ashtray, moving it in circling motion with my hand. I could hear the sound of rain got louder outside and wished that someone would opened a window to let the smell of rain breezed into the room. That thought made me looked at the occupant of the corner table by the window just a few tables away from mine. My view of her was blocked by an attendant who I thought must be taking another order from her as she possessed an air of having been sitting there awhile and waiting for someone to come.

As dreamy thoughts on the occupant of that window table were forming I felt my mobile phone vibrate. The espresso came at the same time. I removed the clean ashtray in front of me by pushing it aside and let the tattooed attendant put the small cup in the same small space.

“….traffic is a mesh because of the rain, will be about 20 minutes late” the short message told me about the delay.
“...ok, no probs” I replied thankful for the extra solitude moment with myself.

It wasn’t an urgent meeting anyway other than to cross check a few details that can be done over email. Sipping my espresso my gaze went back to that window table. There were already two glasses on her table and one of them seemed to be filled with soda water. The cafe attendant walked away from her table as I saw her shaking her head signaling that she was fine with what she has ordered so far. She then sipped with a straw from one glass; the other seemed to be empty and untouched. Her empty table top other than those two glasses gave me a sense that corner table was choked with a mix of deep emotions of hope and solitude. The whole scene reminded me of my still clean ashtray resting in solitaire on top of a table waiting until the arrival of burned cigarettes that will fulfill its purpose for existence.

She also had the same white ceramic ashtray but the white surface was covered by ashes and filled with burned butts which confirmed my guessed that she has been sitting there for awhile. Having only separated by a short distance my usual quirkiness then tried to count how many of those cigarettes had been burned.

“..Eight burned ciggies and soon to be nine with one she’s still smoking now” I concluded as I lighted my own cigarette and deeply inhaled before putting it on my own ashtray. Immediately I could see tiny particle of dust dropped into the white surface breaking the previous pure innocence white image. Another vibration came from my mobile next to the ashtray.

“….totally stuck bro. you still want to wait or what?” message from the same friend again.
“…It’s your call. I can still be here for awhile” I replied.
“…Ok, I’ll let you know how far I can move in the next ten minutes. Damn this city when it rains!!!” replied my friend immediately. I could felt the frustration already build up to rage in that message.

I saw her sipping her drink again slowly and shortly as if not wanting to empty the glass too soon while completely ignoring the other empty glass. She took another drag and inhaled deeply. I looked at my owned ashtray and could see the dirty dusts started to spread evenly on the surface. The purity of its whiteness is no longer there and further distorted by a black coal like mark as I stub the remains of my cigarettes to put it off. It was not a pretty sight anymore and it was only from my first smoke.

From the gaze on her face I expected her mind could have been miles from that table. Even with the rain and traffic, eight burned cigarettes was a really long pause until that other empty glass could serve its purpose. In the meantime, her white ceramic ashtray is busy filling up the long pause and produce a mountain of ashes from her burned cigarettes which completely broken its white innocence.

“It was her call….” I thought as watched her put out her ninth cigarette on the ashtray. Somehow I could associate with her decision to go through the waiting and maybe even the mellowness that came with it. I admired the hopeful gesture of ordering the other empty glass. She was probably crafting her art for her own happiness with the empty glass, trying to vaporize all the pain before she could appreciate the pleasure of her existence.

“A controlled sadness…” I thought again as I sipped half warm espresso by now. I wish someone could tell her how cool she looks at that corner table with that display of controlled sadness. It was her corner of solitude with her two glasses and a full dirty ashtray. As I lit my second smoke I found a new appreciation of her dirty ashtray as I knew now that it was the embodiment of sadness that can only came from a beautiful heart and mind.

I felt my table vibrating again and saw the light on my mobile phone was on.
“It’s hopeless dude. Let’s meet up tomorrow...” I quickly replied the message telling my friend to not worry about it.

I decided it was time to go also. I watch her there sipping her soda slowly and heard The Smith's “I won’t share you” filled the room.

I wont share you, no
I wont share you
With the drive
And the dreams inside
This is my time

It was her time and I knew that once the pain vaporized, the empty glass will be filled or shared, either with someone or it was going to be filled with her own happiness. With that thought in mind I paid the bill and walking past by her table wished silently that her art of happiness will be a canvas painted with sweet ashes and a refreshing cold glass of Perrier next to it.

As I stepped outside and waited again in the rain to cross the street my dreamy mood returned to another truth of being a person belonging to the lowest class of social order. That and the reflection of what will the traffic be going back home made me cursed these other Jackie O version drivers who won’t let me cross the stress as well as the city officials who not only can’t manage the daily city traffic but also the floods that came every time the city got a little rain.

“All those people can kiss my sweet ass...” I cursed as I finally crossed the street in the rain.

The story is inspired from "Satu Gelas Kosong dan Satu Gelas Soda" by mariamantic

Kiss My Sweet Ashes (Part 1)

7.15 am, rush hour traffic...
I sat there drumming my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Pink Flyod's "Another Brick In The Wall". I had this helpless blank look staring a the impossible traffic ahead. It was a bumper to bumper jam and there was no way in the seventh heaven that I will make it to my office by 7.30 am as promised to a friend the day before. We planned to meet up at the office to go to this one day workshop seminar in Thamrin area by taxi to avoid entering the restricted 3 in 1 area. Calculating the impossible distance I still had to travel to Kemang area, fast dialing a number on my mobile phone I called the friend who was already waiting for me and told him that it was better for us to meet up at the workshop. Throwing the mobile phone to the passenger seat next to me I cursed myself at the thought of now having to think of a new strategy to enter the 3 in 1 area by myself.

We don't need no education
We dont need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom

The lyrics shared my contemplation in the effort to draw a new route to take because of the sudden change in destination. The line up of cars started to move inch by inch and I stepped on the gas pedal in the attempt to keep up with the polonaise of slow dancing cars. The agenda ahead which was spending a whole day in a workshop was not really a welcoming idea anyway and that added a dose of edginess already built up inside me from the seemingly never ending traffic jam.

My dreariness seemed to be further provoked by the lyrics about thought control and getting a quicky 'education' from the one day workshop. I then wondered why 99% of the workshop I ever attended always lead by foreigners. As this useless wondering continued I scanned the outside through my side window. It was one of those nice shaded street in an up market neighborhood which direct to a main road ahead which for some unknown reason that day was causing a bottleneck deep into the surrounding rivers of small streets. On my right there was a nice house being renovated and I saw who seemed to be the lady of the house giving instructions to a team of workers. I continued to watch this silent movie from the closed car window and saw these workers nodded their head in uniform to the lady's instructions. I then wondered if I will see the same kind of nodding heads to the foreigner's presentation in the workshop later. I then tempted to do a bet with myself on the probability of that happened against sarcasms in the classroom.

Apart from the clutter of workers another worker stood by himself at the edge of a man made ditch outside the gate of the house. He was a middle age man with dark burned skin probably caused by countless outdoor digging jobs as I noted that he had a shovel next to him. He leaned by the wall of the gate and was reaching to an opening in the wall to take a pack of clove cigarette. I looked at my own pack of Marlboro but then dismissed the thought of smoking due to the hesitation of opening my window and feeling the heat outside. I did felt envious of this man and his 'smoking break' moment. I continued to look as he took out a cigarette from a still full pack and watched him light the cigarette. He inhaled and let out an exhilaration of joyful smoke. I could almost felt the rush of nicotine just by watching him and expected to see a further display of comfort. On the contrary and to my surprise, he then reached out for the shovel and jumped back into the ditch. As my car began to move another few inches I could see an alternating views of the swing of his shovel and a burning cigarette on his lips. The thought of this kind of working culture, mixing work and break time as one could probably the answer to my previous reflection on the need for foreign schooling on just about everything.

I entered the main road and immediately took a turn to another street to made a break from the slow dancing cars. As if knowing the beat of the road is no longer playing slow tune, my car begged me to do a fast dance. I did a mental calculation of time and distance and as it spit out the result I let my foot stepped on the gas pedal to do the mission. Knowing the immediate mission of getting to my destination was no longer a crisis I shifted my thought control into a step by step mode to avoid thinking of a bigger mission which was stuck in the workshop for a whole day.

My mind took another mental attempt to eased my edginess through melody. My fingers started to scan the playlists for a quick fix and stopped with "Takut" by local indie band called Stereomantic. The two member band's electrosound and the vocalist's romantic voice filled the interior of my car and smiling for the first time that morning I pushed the volume button up. As my car now move fast forward entering the busy business district, this easy to listen song with some Carpenter's influence blended with a pop sound gave me a mood switch and pulled me to a journey backward to another cigarette episode...plus an ashtray and two glasses of soda.

4.30 pm rainy afternoon sometime in May...
(to be continued)

Far

"ride scooter, eat local food...." I said
"get drunk, sleep late and have late brunch" I continued mumbling
"where ...?" someone asked me
"sunbathing in some Greek Island" i half replied and half daydreaming
"wow, so far ?" someone wondered
"yup, so it won't be so easy to get back home"

Damn ! I need a vacation !!!!!

Tragedy Cumi Hitam

"Ya yang waras ngalah lah" ucapnya sambil mengaduk - aduk garpunya kedalam sepiring gado-gado. Sementara itu jari tangannya satu lagi menari-nari diatas touch pad di Power Book Mac G4 nya untuk memamerkan layout print ad yang baru dibuatnya ke teman disebelahnya. "emang dia mau ngalah sama loe, jek?" kata temannya itu dan tertawa keras sekali. Aku dan dua teman lain di meja itu turut tertawa. "hah ?...sialan" katanya sambil meneruskan penjelasannya mengenai arti dari pesan iklan yang akan di muat di sebuah directory periklanan. "Jadi gambar ini kalo diliat dari sudut yang berbeda punya arti dan message yang berlainan. Bisa optimis, realistis, ilusionis ato juga pesimis" demikian dia menutup penjelasannya. Sementara itu dua temanku yang lain sibuk membicarakan jadwal rekaman untuk album terbaru mereka dan membahas studio mana yang akan mereka pakai.

Aku duduk menatap pesananku yang baru datang, cumi hitam dengan cabe hijau. "Looks good" kataku dalam hati. Suara - suara mereka terdengar jauh dan seperti gaung dalam kepala ku yang saat itu terasa seperti ruang hampa. Sesekali aku dengar tawa mereka dan bunyi sound alert Yahoo Messenger dari Power Book yang tersambung oleh Wi-Fi gratis di restoran dengan makanan khas Jawa yang menawarkan setting dan design interior seperti chilling lounge dan presentasi makanan a la fine dining.

Aku perhatikan tata letak makanan di piringku yang terlihat agak sepi dan kontras sekali dengan dekorasi minimalis antara warna tinta cumi yang hitam pekat, potongan besar cabe paprika dan nasi putih diatas piring lebar berwarna putih. "Looks good" gumamku dalam hati. Sepi tapi kelihatannya enak. Hidangan ku malam ini membuatku kembali teringat akan santapan cumi yang berbeda di sebuah meja makan beberapa bulan yang lalu. Sebuah makan malam yang cozy dan berlanjut dengan obrolan yang kalau mengambil istilah dari seorang teman lain merupakan "mind blowing conversation" di teras rumah dengan banyak tanaman hijau. Aku tersenyum. Senyum pahit. Pahit karena rasa sepi dan getir di hati atau karena lapar yang terasa sejak tadi sore, akupun tidak tahu pasti. Aku ingat pada malam itupun aku sangat lapar tapi suasana hati pada saat itu sangat jauh dari rasa sepi. Aku menggeleng kepalaku seakan mengusir rasa sepi untuk tidak tetap bertengger disitu selama aku menyantap cumi hitam yang ada di depanku ini.

"Slamatzzzzzzzz...." tiba-tiba terdengar seseorang menyapa dari arah ujung meja. Ternyata seorang lagi teman atau dalam istilah bodohku satu lagi agen ganda telah datang untuk bergabung. Agen ganda, sebuah cap yang aku tempel ke segelintir orang yang sering datang ke kantorku yang berada di daerah Gandaria. Dia langsung duduk di kursi sebelah ku dan membongkar tas laptopnya. "Serius amat si loe pak?" dengan mulut setengah penuh aku bertanya ke si agen ganda. "Sedikit cukup serius juga sih kalo diliat situasinya pak, mau email booking konfirmasi about gig nya si Monday Michiru next month.....tapi yang penting suasananya tetep aman kan?" jawabnya sambil menusuk Wi-Fi adapter kedalam tubuh laptop Sony Vaio nya. Yang lain hanya terkekeh mendengar jawabannya, sudah biasa dengan gaya bicaranya yang sering ngga nyambung dan acakadut antara dua bahasa itu. Aku hanya bergumam "ohh....." sambil merenung. Sebutan agen ganda dengan double meaning itu membawaku ke sebuah istilah lain yang mirip, agen beras. Lamunan ku mengenai beras terhenti ketika salah satu dari teman musisi yang ada di meja itu melempar ide untuk tahun baru. "ke Lombok yuk tahun baru" katanya. "Bali bosen, Jakarta mati lah....kita ke Lombok aja rame-rame" lanjutnya. "Setuju, kita di tempat Philipe aja di Gili Meno" kata si agen ganda sambil tetap sibuk mengirim emailnya. "Jadi kita bikin Ibiza nih di Gili ?" kata si pembuat reklame. "Berangkatzzzz pak" kataku sambil menghabiskan sisa nasi di piringku yang sekarang sudah berubah menjadi hitam.

Sementara obrolan tahun baru terus berlanjut dengan rencana membuat Ibiza a la Lombok, aku menatap cheting atau tempat nasi tradisional khas Jawa terlihat sudah setengah kosong di depan ku. Kembali pikiranku melayang dan melamun mengenai beras. Aku berpikir mengenai impor beras yang sedang ramai dibicarakan. Kalau akan mengambil istilah si pembuat iklan tadi mengenai arti dan pesan dari design yang dia buat maka aku sedikit agak bingung mau memilih yang mana. Negara agraris kok masih harus meng impor beras. Sama tidak masuk akalnya dengan kondisi negara yang memiliki minyak tapi terus menerus menaikan harga BBM . Apakah keputusan untuk mengimpor beras merupakan langkah realistis, ilusionis atau pesimis? Padahal stok beras tidak kurang dan kalaupun akan menurun karena harus memberi makan rakyat miskin kenapa tidak beli saja dari petani lokal sehingga dapat membantu sektor pertanian dimana banyak rakyat miskin yang bekerja di sektor itu. Ini lebih baik daripada buang uang untuk membeli dari luar negeri yang otomatis pasti menggunakan mata uang asing. Makin miskin saja nanti negara kita. Aku membayangkan para petani beras itu pasti sedang merasakan rasa sepi yang jauh lebih dalam dengan adanya distorsi pasar seperti ini. Mungkin juga rasa getir dan pahit atas ketidak adilan yang mereka rasakan dari tidak adanya keberpihakan pemerintah disisi mereka.

Lamunan ku melayang kembali ke teras dengan banyak tanaman hijau itu dan teringat dengan plakat yang di tempel di satu sisi dinding luar dirumah itu. Sebuah penghargaan untuk jasa atas rasa nasionalis yang tinggi dari salah satu pemilik rumah yang telah almarhum. Pasti beliau pun merasakan getir dan pahit yang sama saat ini kalau masih hidup. "Ya yang waras ngalah lah" kembali terngiang di telingaku. Siapa yang waras dan siapa yang harus mengalah dalam situasi dan suasana yang tidak aman ini? Mudah -mudahan tahun baru yang akan datang ini akan membawa rasa optimis yang realistis dan bukan pesimis atau ilusionis dari hal-hal yang tidak masuk akal.