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 !!!!!

Iconic Madonna

License to Masturbate

"We're not only a worldwide agency, we offers integrated communication solutions as well". That is more or less the message that are send across when you browse through the agency credential in an Adobe Flash Player format.

"Let's give the client a 360 degrees approach" are often mentioned in the board room discussion during initial sharing session every time a new pitch came along the agency's way. These new pitches, when they come along our way they really rush through the pipeline just like this February rains that hit Jakarta and and flooded more than half of the city. Speaking of the recent Jakarta flood, while some might think that this writing not really knocked on facts....although I do think it is, one thing I can say for sure is that Sutiyoso who is the governor of Jakarta is absolutely and undeniably a real asshole for turning the city public open spaces into a commodity and exchangeable to commercial places which makes the city land totally helpless in absorbing rain falls.

Anyway, retreating from that line of thinking let's get back to that integrated communication solutions consisting of so many lines from above, below, and striking smack in the middle through it that would be enough to makes any heads dizzy. The kind of dizziness that comes not only from too much information but also the lack of basic understanding of what they really are. Sometimes I can sense that the client does not understand what the hell it is that they are seeing in the presentation slides and probably more concern on how much all that is going to cost their brand expenditure. The more sophisticated client on the other hand knows exactly what are the problems the brand faces and the kind of solutions that they needs and feels that they are being offered more than what they required. It's like either offering someone who shop in K-Mart an outfit by Alexander McQueen or showing a pair of Porsche in different colors to someone who already have a 10 rooms villa in Majorca overlooking the Mediterranean sea. Just from the brief they wrote you can get a sense of what they are looking for and the kind of urgency that need immediate solutions they seek from their agencies.

It's funny to see how instead of taking a careful look at the brief everyone start to think they can turn the client's brand into a distinguish brand and got all excited with "let's show them everything we have" attitude. True, an all around approach to a brand communication can never hurt the brand given the strategy is based on a insightful platform. So don't you say that I don't have that "let's win this pitch" outlook because I do. As unconventional an Ad man as I am, although not crazy at all about award winning ad, I do realize at the end of the day it's all about the freaking billing and bottom line. And if I am lucky it would also means bonuses permitting the Gods of the advertising universe are being merciful to the mortals.

Nevertheless, the facts that are sometimes forgotten in the midst of these excitement are the urgency and priorities that the client seek for that particular campaign, not to mention budget constraints which will always be the angel of death in white hooded robe ready to strike with its sharp scythe any creative ideas, even good ones if they threaten to exceed the life of the corporate balance sheet. So to come up with the all rounded approach combining the above, beyond and through the lines works sometime look more like a showcase of ego rather than for the sake of providing an integrated solutions.

But what kills me the most is to watch this bunch of highly skilled special agents with creative license do their operative planning involve little or no integrative thinking whatsoever between the inter - department personnel. The whole development process sometimes is all about one adapting to another's slide and expanding it. Still, it could turned out to be one hell of an artsy and comprehensive presentation at the end of the day. Will it actually of some use is still to be seen. If the client for some reason found it to be useful and they feel they can pay for it then it's great. Otherwise, to me the whole thing is just a creative masturbation and self - inflicting pleasure leaving nothing but cleaning up some spilled love stains at the end. Sure, go ahead have a beer and smoke afterward but for sure swallowing the cold beer and inhaling those nicotine is going to taste so much better if there were some passionate screaming that you've done with someone else just before that rather than shutting your eyes tight imagining some babes in a glossy magazines.

Some might argue that getting it off that way still feels great. I could relate to that, really. I mean in that last few seconds you don't really care whether you're alone or with someone who will let you come inside her or let you stay inside her mouth so she can swallow everything. It really doesn't matter, does it ? So I guess I still have the right to go have a cold beer and a smoke afterward just as if I actually had a real sex.

But here's a thing that will be hard to swallow even for the cheapest, ugliest, horniest and desperate street whore who would readily give you a blow job in the filthiest public toilet. Better yet, here's another analogy. There are two things that a guy fear the most during intimate moments. One is he can't get it up and the other is pre - mature ejaculation.

For the sake of being a good team player you have gone through that whole process of trying to came up with an integrated views on your part that will hang nicely with the mass communication method of the other team. Everyone is then feels good that this all around approach will give all the necessary leverage to the whole campaign. Of course I have prepared myself with a cold beer and a pack of cigarette for the afterward and sometimes I have to admit I can even bring myself looking forward to the afterward smoke and self - cuddling. So come the presentation day and everyone is all gungho and thirsty for client's blood. After which you found out something terrifying during the presentation through all the politeness the client can pull together. Either they told you that they don't need to hear your part of of the presentation or they put up with the whole presentation and later told you that for now just as mentioned in the brief, they only needed to focus on the other communication method. Perhaps on a later phase they would go with the direction you have proposed in your part.

Now, this happened to me twice this week on two different campaigns. Imagine this, you're lying there naked in bed with your woman and say "this never happen to me before" or " it's not you, it's me". But if that happens twice in a week with that same woman I can say you will either started to get really pissed with yourself or looking for someone to blame. One thing for sure you can't bear to think that this woman will start thinking you are another asshole in town besides the governor.

Image done by mikofanclub on Flickr

View From A WIndow

The usual morning ritual properties consisting of a cup of hot black coffee and the day's newspaper were already placed on top of the desk. On the background the voice of a news presenter from the television giving the first breaking news of the day can be heard slightly. The female newscaster's voice which was now turned into Mandarin after delivering the English news version was barely heard as the volume was turned low and just enough to travelled the hearing distance just in case there was some really important news that needed attention.

The scent of the freshly brewed coffee flowed out the open window of this second floor room passing the wet roof garden of an open outdoor space adjacent to the room. The rain that fell at dawn a few hours ago still left its mark on the wet rooftop and on the tropical garden below. Raindrops can still be seen rested on the Hibiscus flowers . This tropical plant was tall enough that some of its dark red flowers could be seen trying to climbed up to the edge of the window. I remembered the day I bought that plant about two years ago was only as tall as my knees.

I shifted my view from the window and looked around my room and can still felt the chill from the air condition until I shut it off moments ago. The left over man - made chill mixed with the natural breeze of an "after the rain" morning from the open window gave me this autumn - like feelings replacing the usual tropical morning weather. Meanwhile, the shinny wet roof and raindrops still clinging on the flowers and the scent of musky wet earth somehow approriately added the overall feeling of a breezy autumn day.

I'm looking at the red Hibiscus flower now. No raindrop rest on it. The sun is shinning brigthly and hot. No time to even turn on the TV and barely finish my instant semi- hot coffee.

It's been a long while and I really miss that view from a window....

Image source: http://www.ikies.com/

Mutiara Hitam

(Terdengar bunyi motor meraung dari bengkel sebelah. Berisik sekali. Laptop ku terbuka diatas meja panjang di ruang kerjanya. Beberapa proof print pernak pernik perhiasan yang terbuat dari mutiara tergeletak di meja itu. Wajahnya kelihatan tegang seperti biasa setiap akan mengikuti pameran perhiasan international. “Kok ga ada yang bagus sih gambarnya buat di print di catalog” katanya uring-urningan. Aku hanya tersenyum. Sudah biasa melihat dia berubah jadi “miss panicky” dan mendengar ocehan nya yang kadang tidak masuk akal. Poto –poto perhiasan yang akan dicetak di catalog sudah sesuai dengan apa yang kita berdua inginkan. Seorang fotografer langganan kita dengan spesialisasi high fashion jewelry sudah memberikan hasil still shots yang maksimal seperti biasanya. Kadang aku heran bagaimana seorang yang gampang panic seperti ini dapat menjadi dive master yang sering melakukan riset bawah laut bahkan sampai ke perairan Karibia dan yang selalu teliti memeriksa setiap kerang yang ada di peternakan bawah laut itu untuk memastikan hasil panen yang bagus.“Liat ini deh” aku coba mengalihkan perhatiannya ke layar monitor laptopku dimana ada gambar design rosario terbuat dari mutiara hitam pesanan sebuah outlet langganan kami dari Eropa. “Hmmm….bagus banget. Simple tapi sangat spiritual”. jawabnya. “Aku selalu suka design - design kamu” sambungnya lagi. Aku hanya tersenyum. Sudah biasa dengan pujiannya atas design perhiasan yang aku buat untuk perusahaan kami berdua itu. “Jadi kapan proof print ini bisa naik cetak, waktunya udah dikit lagi gitu lho” katanya lagi dengan kepanikannya yang tidak beralasan. “Sante aja gitu lho, it’s all been taking care of” kata ku menenangkan dia. "What about the insurance for the shipment?" tanyanya lagi. "Done" jawabku pendek. “God, why do I always feel like a lost little girl every time before an exhibition?” katanya mengeluh. “Udah tenang lah, this is not our first time. Berdoa aja” kataku sambil menghirup kopi panas yang baru saja dia buatkan untuk ku. “I love that rosario” katanya lagi. “ Makasih” kataku sambil kembali mengingat dari mana sebetulnya ide design itu kudapatkan. “Stress banget aku, I need a hug” katanya tiba-tiba sambil menatapku. Aku berdiri menghampiri mejanya dan kupeluk dia dan mengatakan bahwa semua akan baik-baik saja. Dia masih dalam pelukanku ketika suara motor meraung perlahan berganti menjadi …… )

Bunyi lonceng gereja di salah satu sudut Kota Tua (Old City) di Yerusalem. Suara lonceng itu mengiringi langkah seorang pendeta muda dengan jubah hitam panjang yang berjalan cepat kearah Via Dolorosa. Sebuah jalan bersejarah dimana Yesus berjalan beberapa belas abad yang lalu sambil memanggul salib. Raut mukanya kelihatan gelisah meskipun langkah nya tetap tenang dan seakan kakinya sudah sangat mengenal tempat yang akan dituju. Melewati sebuah shouq atau pasar yang di dominasi pedagang Arab dia mendengar suara adzan bergema dari salah satu menara mesjid bersejarah di Kota Tua tersebut memanggil umat Islam untuk melakukan sholat di penghujung senja hari itu . Suasana hatinya tidak menentu persis seperti suasana kota Yerusalem pada saat itu di akhir abad 19. Kejayaan kerajaan Ottoman Turki mulai memudar seiring dengan masuknya pengaruh imperialisme Inggris di belahan Timur Tengah. Siapa dia ? dia kembali bertanya dalam hati. Mimpinya semalam terasa terlalu nyata untuk di diamkan apalagi setelah terjadi dalam dua malam berturut-turut. Langkahnya sedikit melambat sewaktu sekelompok pelajar Yahudi keluar dari sebuah sekolah kitab Taurat. Dia tersenyum dan mensyukuri solidaritas beragama antar umat di kota dimana tiga agama tua dunia berpusat. "Aku akan menunggu mu di sebuah kedai kopi di bagian selatan Kota Tua, dekat Tembok Menangis" demikian pesan yang di ingatnya dari mimpi semalam.

Dia kenal dengan pemilik kedai kopi itu, seorang Yunani dan jemaat gereja Yunani Ortodok yang pernah berkunjung ke gereja nya beberapa tahun yang lalu untuk membantunya memasang patung Madonna di altar gerejanya. Hari mulai gelap sewaktu dia sampai di kedai kopi itu. "Shalom" sapa si pemilik kedai dalam bahasa Ibrani sambil menjabat tangan nya. "Shalom, leila tov" sapa nya kembali sambil mengucapkan selamat malam. "Qahwa?" tanya si pemilik kedai menawarkan minuman kopi. "Iya, terima kasih" jawab si pendeta muda sambil matanya memeriksa setiap sudut ruang kedai. Tatapan matanya terhenti pada sebuah meja disudut yang paling dalam dari ruang kedai itu. Seorang wanita duduk seakan tidak terlihat oleh pengunjung lain meskipun dia memakai kostum baju yang seakan berasal dari jaman yang jauh lebih maju. Setelah menerima segelas qahwa dari pemilik kedai dia menghampiri meja itu dan duduk di hadapan wanita tersebut. Penampilannya yang menunjukkan bahwa dia bukan berasal dari jaman itu dan baju kaos dengan tulisan New York Yankees seolah tenggelam dari perhatian orang hanya dengan sebuah selendang yang menutup rambut dan bagian samping dari wajah wanita itu layaknya kebiasaan berdandan wanita Muslim di kota itu. Dia seakan memiliki keahlisan untuk tidak dapat terlihat oleh pengunjung lain di ruangan itu. Wanita itu tersenyum dan berkata "shalom, akhirnya kita bertemu lagi. kamu masih kelihatan sama...". "Anda siapa?....sepertinya telah mengenal ku" pendeta muda itu bertanya dengan sopan sambil menghirup kopi panasnya. Kembali wanita itu tersenyum, sebuah senyum yang sangat ramah dan tulus yang membuat si pendeta merasa pernah mengenalnya. "Shalom, artinya damai kan? aku suka kata itu" katanya. "Aku juga senang kamu masih suka memegang itu" tambahnya lagi sambil menunjuk rosario yang terbuat dari mutiara hitam yang terlilit di tangan kiri pendeta muda. " ..dan masih tetap di tangan kiri, padahal tangan kananmu sudah tidak perlu lagi memegang pedang untuk menghadang serangan musuh -musuhmu" lanjutnya sambil tetap tersenyum. Si pendeta muda tertegun mendengar wanita itu berbicara mengenai rosario nya. Sebuah rosario yang telah dia milik seumur hidupnya dan merupakan warisan yang dia sendiripun tidak yakin atas asal usulnya. "Apa yang anda ketahui mengenai rosario ini?" tanya si pendeta. "Kamu pernah menitipkannya sebentar kepada ku" kata wanita itu "...sewaktu aku membantu mengobati lukamu dari panah yang menembus baju perangmu dalam sebuah pertempuran". Mendengar kata panah tiba-tiba ingatan pendeta muda itu seakan meloncat ke tempat yang jauh di seberang lautan dan ke sebuah waktu yang jauh kebelakang. Sekilas terlihat gambar medan perang dengan latar belakang sebuah benteng kastil di benaknya dan seorang ksatria berambut panjang tergerai menyentuh baju jazirah yang berat dengan pedang terhunus di tangan kanan dan rosario di tangan kiri. Mungkinkan orang itu aku? dia bertanya dalam hati.

"Aku butuh bantuan mu sekarang" kata wanita itu sambil dengan lembut mengambil rosario dari tangan si pendeta muda dan melilitkannya ditangan. ”Bantuan seperti apa?” kata si pendeta muda. “Aku ingin bisa seperti mutiara - mutiara hitam ini” katanya lagi. “Apa maksudmu?” tanya si pendeta muda. ”Tolong bantu aku keluar dari rumah kerangku sehingga aku dapat menyebar kebahagian kepada orang lain dan juga diriku sendiri” kata wanita itu. Terlihat sedikit kesedihan di matanya ketika dia berkata begitu meskipun bibirnya tetap tersenyum ramah. ”Aku bisa membantu mu dengan berdoa untuk mensyukuri apa yang kamu miliki dan untuk dapat mendengar suara hatimu. Dengarkan suara hatimu untuk mencari kedamaian dalam dirimu sendiri sebelum kamu menyebar kebahagian kepada orang lain ” kata si pendeta muda. ”Mungkin kamu tidak merasa, tapi aku melihat mu berdoa bersama seorang anak perempuan kecil dua hari yang lalu” kata wanita itu. Si pendeta muda kelihatan tidak terlalu terkejut dengan pernyataan wanita misterius itu. Dia dapat merasakan bahwa mereka telah saling bertemu dalam sebuah kehidupan yang lain dan sejak itu wanita ini telah beberapa kali hadir di dekatnya tanpa dia sadari.

”Anak perempuan itu merasa kehilangan karena dia merasa tidak ada yang menuntunnya” si pendeta muda menjelaskan kesedihan yang dirasakan oleh seorang gadis kecil yang dia temui sedang menangis di tangga sebuah rumah musim panas yang terletak di luar tembok Kota Tua sekitar dua hari yang lalu. ”Maukah kamu membantuku berdoa seperti itu” tanya wanita itu. “Berdoa denganku seperti yang kamu lakukan dengan gadis kecil itu” pintanya lagi memohon. ”Pasti aku akan membantumu” kata si pendeta muda sambil tersenyum. ”Terima kasih, dan bila aku sedang jauh darimu, peluk aku dengan doamu, ya?” kata wanita itu sambil kembali tersenyum. Kesedihan yang sempat mampir di matanya tadi kini sudah tidak terlihat lagi dan sudah berganti dengan sorot kelegaan. ”Kamu akan pergi lagi?" kata si pendeta muda. ”Iya, aku tidak bisa lama disini, tapi aku pasti kembali menemuimu lagi" wanita itu berjanji sambil tersenyum. ”Kalau begitu aku titipkan lagi rosario ditangan mu itu sampai kita bertemu kembali" kata si pendeta muda. Kali ini mereka berdua tersenyum bersama.

Baca juga "Kota Tua Yerusalem" di sambilngupi! Kedua tulisan ini dibuat oleh dua orang dengan sudut pandang yang berbeda.

Image reference: The Black Pearl Inc (Jewelry Catalogue)

In The Mood For Love

Chinese noodle place in a narrow alley walkway. Rainy days. It's Hong Kong in the 60's filled with retro feeling represented by big Siemens wall clock, Japanese rice cooker, vaselined slick hair and a sensual body - hugging Cheongsam/Qipao dress. To borrow a phrase from one of the film reviews this movie is a "Literary Vision" which to my interpretation is like a composition of beautiful sentences and old photographs combined together forming a moving visions that is distinctively a Won Kar-Wai's cool, hip and artistic style of movie making. His composition of the retro icons mixed with a list of soundtracks consisting a numbers of Nat King Cole's Spanish songs and an Indonesian classic masterpiece "Bengawan Solo" as the backdrop has succesfully transfered us back to the dream and nostalgic time.

The story is about a married man Chow Mo-wan (Tony Leung) and a married woman Su Li-zhen (Maggie Cheung) who moved to an apartments next to each other on the same day. This mellow - drama between the two developed when they both discovered that their respective spouses were involved in a torrid affair with each other (this was hinted mostly off-screen as these characters were never really shown in the film). Leung and Cheung then fell in love with each other and formed a relationship of restrained love bounded by ethics and moral principles. This uncertain affair which seems to exist the fleeting moment in time has an air of sadness and consolation over the betrayal they felt from their spouses mixed with a lot of ambiguities about the extend of their plutonic relationship whether it was about the sharing of feelings, love, and sexual desires. Did they eventually slept together?. These are the abstractions of the plot which Wong Kar-Wai has build around a romantic athmosphere and characterization illustrated through a kind of mind - game narrative, settings, wardrobe and color.

It is a movie of "dream time" and melodrama mood. The acting of Tony Leung and the sensual Maggie Cheung in her Cheongsam provide a portrayal of restraint love from the fight between emotional desires and moral principles and society's norms. These mood of loves between them were shown like a painted canvas of wet alley street, steak dinner, a seedy hotel room, duck noodles vendor in Singapore, and an anti-climax ending in Angkor Wat temple in Cambodia.

Filmography:In The Mood For Love (Hua Yang Nian Hua). Written and directed by Wong Kar-Wai. Starring Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung. Block 2 Pictures, Inc (2000). Cannes 2000 Award.

The Re-make of Pillow Talk

SCENE 1

(A view from a window. Wet roof in a rainy afternoon. Drops of water falling from the edge of the roof into a man-made pond below. Koi fishes swim beneath the surface. The ivy covered wall with its spreaded vines and full leaves are wet and looks so green and clean. The smell of wet grass flowing through the open window. The sounds of thunder in a distant from time to time.)

Turn out the light

A lover's finger tips

Warm and passionate

A clamped oyster shell

Wet and slippery

The rain outside

And a movie classic

A breeze of wind

The smell of wet earth

Mixed with lavender scent

SCENE 2

(Late Morning. Mug of hot coffee on the back terrace. A breeze of wind blows at a newly wet hair fresh from the shower. Scripts from a half done novel on the table, suspended by a several fresh water oyster shells. The sound of Michael Frank from a vinyl being played )

Loosely worn kimono

A peek of soft belly

Its soft fabric

Shaping the curves

And the rounded edges

Scent of lavender

On the smooth skin

SCENE 3

(Half dark air - conditioned room. The rustle of white sheet as cold bare skin seeking comfort and warm underneath. The sound of rain outside. The smell of wet earth flowing through an open bedroom window. A glimpse of Marlon Brando face in an opened cover of Last Tango in Paris DVD.)

Warm breath on a finger tip

The sound of pillows being stacked

The rain outside

Brings the smell of wetness

Lowering guarded feelings

Letting out passionate longing

For touches of pleasures

Just like the rain

Brings wet but warm feelings

On the pond outside

A fish swims underneath the surface

Its skin wet and slippery

Touching the shapes

Tickling the curves

Tingling rounded edges

Exploring inner parts

And like an oyster shell pried open

The round beautiful pearl exposed

Its surface wet and slippery

It is felt and tastedThe taste lingered

On lips and tongue

The smell mixed with lavender scent

The flesh of a loving lover

Reaching final destination

In the center of her universe

Inspired by book 36 Views: A Play, by Naomi Iizuka. Image taken from the book cover design.

Two Hands in a Cookie Jar

Two little kids
A boy and a girl
Walk hand in hand

Two little hands
Inside a cookie jar
Performing innocent crime

Share the walk
Share the cookies
Share the moment

Cookies in hand
They run in a park
Laughing and eating

Till one of them fell
Half eaten cookie on the ground
And a broken skin on his knee

As his laughter stop
The other watched
Cookie still in her hand

Unsure of what to do
She comes slowly closer
And sit next to him

Teardrops on his cheeks
Signaling the pain he is in
Wishing it to go away

Still unsure of what to do
But knowing that he is in pain
She offers her cookie to him

He smiles but shake his head
Just knowing that she knows
Is half the remedy to ease the pain

A Bench And A Three Stripes Shoes

“Hi” …
“Allo” she said, with a French accent.
“Mind if I sit here?”
“No, go ahead” she said blowing her smoke.
We were both in a smoking section of an airport waiting for our flights. I noticed her shoes, nice Adidas. A pair of simple black shoes with three white stripes which she worn over ankle socks.

“Where are you flying to?” I tried to make small conversation as I lighted my cigarette.
“Back home to France” she said. “And you?” “Kuala Lumpur” I said. “Ah, we should be on the same flight, my flight stop over in Kuala Lumpur” she continued.
“Nice shoes, where did you get it?”
“In France” she replied shortly.
“Cool shoes, what series is that?” I continued asking her about the shoes.
“I really don’t know” she replied kind of apologetically.
“They look really nice, I like them” I said.
“Merci” she said with a smile.

It’s a simple conversation taken place while sharing a smoke on a bench waiting for a late night international flight. Neither one of us is likely to feel any kind of intimacy from that kind of an experience. It was an exchange between a genuine interest over a pair of sporty Adidas and a return of information which was not really helpful but at least was honest answers.

But what if the swing of event were different? What if faith has it that I was also flying to France instead of just getting off in Kuala Lumpur? The sharing of a bench could extend into a sharing of a long flight.

“So, what will you be doing in France?” she asked.
“Working, I come to see some shots of food ingredients for a TV commercial” said I.
“Hmm, that sounds like an interesting commercial. You work in advertising? She asked again.
“You look good in those shoes” I complemented her as I nodded my head to answer her last question. “Me too, I work in a marketing field also, but mostly digital. I design web….. you really like these shoes?” she said as she lifted both her legs a little. I nodded my head again. She smiled and said "yes, they are actually my fave shoes too"
“Yes, its so you. So? I mean you work in digital marketing? I used to be involved in that too” I told her. “What’s so me… my work?” she asked. “No, the shoes” I said. She laughed and said ”and just how would you know that, Mr. Ad Man?”.
I laughed too and shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea why I said that. Just a silly hunch, I get them sometimes”. I said as I rose from the bench. “We still have a long wait for our flight” I looked at my watch. “Yes, it will still be for awhile, are you going in?” she asked me. “No, I want to get some coffee, you want one?” I said.
“I would love some” she said.
“Black?” I asked again. “That’s another good hunch, yes. Thank you” she said.
“Be right back, then”. I walked towards a standing bar that still open along side a row of closed Duty Free Shops.

The cigarette has long gone but the conversation lingers on. This could be just another simple conversation over a mutual admiration over a pair of shoes between two people who happens to be involved in similar works. That and the coffee that would follow could create an innocent intimacy or at least comfort over the dreading wait for the two late night travelers.

“Here’s your coffee” I handed her a closely lid cup of coffee.
“and by the way, I’m Shai…Shai Bastara” I introduce myself.
“Merci, I’m Patna Jane” she said as she took the coffee and shakes my hand.
“Cool initial…PJ. Can I call you PJ?” I said grinning.
“PJ it is…and you’re Shai, right?” she grins back at me.
“Sometimes in some situation but right now I’m not shy with you” I winked as I sip my coffee. She laughed at the slipped of the tongue to my name.
“your coffee okay PJ?”
“you know what Shai, these shoes would look nice on you too….yes the coffee is fine. Funny, I am thinking a nice cold beer would also be good now”
“I think they come in men’s sizes too, don’t they? cold beer definitely is good idea. We should've bought that instead of coffee” I said.
“maybe we’ll have one on board later?” she said.
“where are you sitting PJ?”
“should be around the second or third row…..I always like to seat as close to the front as I can” she explained.
“I’m around there too I think”. I remembered I asked for a front seat too when checking in tonight. I started to look at my boarding pass and the little sticker that says 7 C. An aisle seat.
“I think I’m going to get one too” I said as I showed her my boarding pass.
“what Shai? the beer?” she looks at my boarding pass and waves hers that has 6 D on it.
“ no PJ, the shoes…I have this funny feeling that I’m going to get one too”.
“yes get one, that way we’ll then have something in common” she said.
“that would be nice, wouldn’t it? I mumbled to myself not really knowing what I’m saying.

The boarding announcement came over the speakers. “That’s us Shai…let’s go”. We walked towards the gate with me helping her carry one of her bags. We stand on line with the other passengers entering the cabin. Our seat turns out to be one row apart on opposite side of the plane. It wasn’t a very full plane as we both have no one sitting next to us.

“hey you ” I came over to her seat after the seatbelt sign is off.
“hey you too” she look up from her seat.
“can I sit here with you?”
“yes I would love the company” she said.” it’s going to be a long journey, isn’t it?” she said again as I sit next to her.
“Pfffff, very long PJ….maybe it would feel shorter if we both share some cold beers”
“yes let’s ask for some, Shai”

The pretty dyed blonde stewardess with dark sharp eyes typical of women from the Arabic Peninsula brought us two cold Heinekens.

“here’s to PJ and her nice Adidas” I toast to her.
“here’s to sharing our long journey together, Shai. And a safe flight”
”yes a safe flight PJ”
“nothing can be predictable but yes Shai, a safe flight where everyone including you will arrive safely at your destination “
“you have a good heart PJ”

"Cheers" We both said it at the same time.

We talked about work and discussed some of the movies featured during the flight. Dinner was served and we had some more Heinekens afterwards. The cabin light is turned low and most of the passengers are asleep. I am reading my book while PJ is busy doing some sketches for a web layout.

“you want a blanket PJ?”
“yes, it’s getting a bit chilly”
“Yes I know. Here’s your blanket”
“I’m going to get some sleep Shai. You?”
“Maybe read a few more pages. Go ahead, I catch up later”
“Okay, be here when I wake up?” she grinned at me
“Yup, with another cold beer for you” I grinned back at her.
“ mmm….you have a good heart, Shai. See you later”

The plane is high above the Atlantic flying through dark night. It is a long journey to Paris with a stop over in Kuala Lumpur and Dubai. Sharing a journey could add more burdens with the excess luggage of your companion or for having to attend some silly needs for blanket or additional cold beers. Probably even an unintentionally slip of tongue on some wrong hunches which might cause minor irritation.

But the comfort of it all and the sharing of common interest between traveling partner beat the hell out of all that burdens. Especially if we are taking a long journey of life with its unknown destination. All we have is the sharing of something in common and faith in our traveling partner. An open heart is a good heart…….it dances and travels.

Lemon Cheesecake

That was what it says in white chalk on the menu board standing on the pavement in front of this café announcing the special package for the day. I felt raindrops fell heavier on my head and was deciding whether to go inside escaping the rain or just continued walking. I peeked inside and saw empty white linen clothed tables decorated with a white lily in a small crystal like vase on top of every table.

I decided to sit on the veranda section of the café protected from the rain by a white colored canopy and chose the farthest side of the table from the sidewalk to avoid the rain. Not really in a hurry to be served I looked across the street watching wet grass on a small park turned shinier from the rain. Overlooking the park my eyes caught a window display of an interior design gallery. It showed a white themed bedroom décor of a massive light colored teakwood bed softened by sheets, down pillows and comforter all in white. My wandering mind then was so quick to build an imaginary setting of its own. One was an illustration of a tropical setting with ocean breeze flowing through an opened window blowing at a white see – through curtain. Inside is a teak paneled floor bedroom in some hidden villa in Canggu, Bali surrounded by rice fields and a view of a small river. Contrary to the tropical setting, other images that popped up from that “all white” window display were clips from TV commercials for either an air condition product or sanitary napkins for women. I couldn’t really help it of coming up with these latter pictures since it was an occupational hazard from working in an ad agency. Commercial for these type of products tend to highlight the whiteness of things to portray freshness and cleanness. Strange that since I walked past this café I felt attacked by this color starting with the white chalked menu list, tablecloth, white lily, canopy and that bedroom décor display. Anyhow, I prefer the tropical picture over the TV commercial ones as it gave me a quick get away window from the damp wet autumn day as it was that day.

The green tropical picturesque was shattered when the waitress came over to take my order. She was wearing an oversize white shirt (again that color) but wrapped thankfully in a black apron with front pockets filled with order book and a pen. I asked for a double espresso to speed up my caffeine intake for the day and asked her to come back later while I browsed the menu. My espresso came and I asked if she could give me a small cut of lime skin to put on my coffee. She came back with two small pieces on a white small plate. I learned this from an old Italian man years ago on how to make an espresso richer in flavor.

I studied the menu and saw lemon cheesecake again which was slightly more expensive than the plain cheesecake, obviously. I was always one that went for the old fashioned way when it came to food and drinks so I started to automatically think of ordering the plain one. The way I run my life was complicated enough and I could use a few basic simple way of living like a plain bagel instead of a cinnamon taste one or a cold beer instead of those colorful designer cocktails.

However, sitting there and staring again at the clean white tablecloth I felt I was entering a comfort zone that was long ago forgotten. So all of a sudden this out of the ordinary thought came over me and I told the waitress to bring me the lemon cheesecake. While waiting for my order I took out my shag tobacco and rolling paper . My finger started to do the art of rolling the thin white paper and making it into a thin cigarrete.

Watching my cigarette burned by a Zippo I started to think is it curiosity for the blended taste of cheese and lemon or is it simply boredom for the ordinary? The “great white attack” somehow already gave me a hugging – like feeling of coziness and now the thought of lemon taste over a traditional delicatessen like cheese charmed my curiosity.

The waitress came back with my cheesecake. I looked at it and it was prettier to look at than the ordinary one with gradient of yellowish color on the white cheese surface. The twist of lemon taste on my tongue felt like a fresh witty surprise over the usual stand alone cheese taste. As I took more bites I felt the fresh sweet taste was arousing some long forgotten senses inside. Savoring the lemon cheese taste, sniffing the aroma of strong espresso mixed with a scent of lime while enjoying the whiteness around me was like slouching in a giant comfortable sofa, it felt like home.

As I sat there absorbing all these, the rain has stopped. It was home but in a different world. It was like going scuba diving in that tropical place, seeing the beauty of the colorful marine lives and an underwater flower garden made of coral reefs. The world separated by open water and an oxygen tank, the deeper you go the more beautiful it was. It was a dangerous playground unless you are an expert diver in the hand of an experience dive master.

I tossed a few bills to pay for everything and left the café. Walking across the small park I kicked some reddish autumn leaves lying on the green carpet of wet grass. Some raindrops still rested on the leaves like teardrops hanging on a pair of sad eyes. Kicking the leaves made the water splashed on my shoes and I carried those teardrops with me as I walked away. Sitting on a wet iron park bench l looked back at the café. I thought about the options, weighing possibilities of living between two worlds. I knew my next stop would be home, the one in my world.

I would miss my lemon cheesecake even when the taste continued to linger on my taste bud. I even knew that I would miss it still as I bite into it the next time. This was like a secret love affair between two characters on two different story frames of the same comic page. Sharing the same space but separated by two different stories. Unification could only be decided by the almighty illustrator.

I then realized that I too wore a white shirt over a pair of washed out jeans that day. Another long forgotten habit of my preferred attire for a simple look which strangely I put on again that rainy autumn day. I continued my walk home and wondering whether my closet would have enough space to hang my white shirts and a diving wetsuit.

Genuine Plastic Vanity

I smiled as I opened the Living Section of today’s Sunday newspaper, Kompas 15 May, 2005. There were two articles talking about the existence or more like the lack of decent public space in the city of Jakarta and in the country in general ( see Mana Ruang Publik Kami ? and Kerinduan Menikmati Alun – Alun ). These articles are really what Park Bench Society and its sub –blogs all about by using the object of park bench as an icon for urban open public spaces (outdoor) as well as what is happening in cities and its societies.

Park Bench Society amongst its various posted journals have several write ups by the contributors including myself talking about just exactly what is happening in the city of Jakarta where we live concerning the lack of public spaces and the widening gap in social classes from the continuous establishment of new luxurious commercial city centers. These artificial places then become a forced mainstream "public spaces" based on consumerism. They were build with the excuse of providing comfort and leisure for its citizens at the expense of overlooking the aspects of existing cultures as well as the neglected historical sites that can instead be re-vitalized to provide free public spaces for all layers of social classes (read: The Birth of Park Bench Society, The Digital Park Bench, The Missing Bench, Jakarta Rising, Jakarta Semakin Gersang and Abandonned City Parks).

Reading these articles on the paper today my smile somewhat turned into a sneer which usually accompanied a feeling of smugness cynicism. Really, just like most people I detest smugness and self – righteousness. However, I can’t help myself for being so damn conceited. Although both articles are all for open public spaces and the longing of having such places once again to be a part of our daily urban life but the comments and quotes from some of the individuals representing these commercial places that are providing “paid comfort” to the people are a reflection of a “silly trivial bullshits” vanities of the urban development trends taking place in major cities in Indonesia. A trend that has it roots from the weak mentalities of the municipal government who made public spaces as commodities for sale with the private sectors. It is truly a dangerous vanities as it is building a high wall of protection against the so –called those from the marginal societies.

Let’s forget about the advance cities in the region like Singapore, Tokyo or Seoul. Instead let’s take a look at the nearby Bukit Bintang, Damansara or Srihartamas area in Kuala Lumpur where outdoor public spaces are widely available. There you can have the options of enjoying the comfort of an open park and garden, free window shopping or a leisurely walks with the choices to spend or not to spend anything on some food and beverage of various price range either in the open food court or a more upscale chic restaurants. These kinds of options are what we are lacking in the city of Jakarta. Instead, what is available are mediocre city mock- ups trying to imitate or capture the ambiance of an outdoor atmosphere with names like City Walk, Town Square or City Square that offers only to the catered segmented niche of the society polluting them with branded goods.

The names of these places themselves reflect a falsely westernization frame of mind which in this country somewhat stupidly equal to modernization. For a nation with a heritage of having a town square called alun - alun in almost every cities in the country, it failed to utilize such places (some even has historical value attach to it) to be the center for the movement and interaction of its citizens. Modernization instead means copying foreign influences and making them into some artificial spaces that could manipulate the behavior of the people and infected them with a “100% genuine plastic” shallow and artificial nouveau riche mindset. Especially for the younger generation this kind of an environment and surrounding can create a missing link detaching themselves from their own heritage and cultural roots.

I think it is an idiotic notion trying to move Les Champs – Elysees in Paris to a narrow indoor space somewhere in South Jakarta just as it is impossible to move the ambiance of Kuta or Ubud in Bali to Fifth Avenue or even a place with a closely bohemian flavor like Greenwich Village in New York City. Such attempts to me are more like deepening ignorance rather than enlighten the people.

The city of Beijing can still have its Tiananmen Square despite the nation’s industrial revolution and rapid modernization. Other authoritarian state like Russia still maintains its historical Red Square in Moscow. I have never been to Baghdad but from many visuals on the television during the ongoing conflicts I can still see the shouq or market place as the typical Middle East traditional center for the people’s interaction. So are the shouq in the Old City part of Jerusalem or the city of Marrakesh in Morocco where both locals and tourists can experience the open public spaces without having the feeling of being trapped in a forced consumerism.

Who are we really to dictate people to have to spend money or to have that certain “look” of having money before we can enjoy the comfort of being in public spaces? You can walk around enjoying yourself whether you are in the Notting Hill section of London or Harajuku in Tokyo passing all the chic boutiques and cafes without having to spend anything if you don’t choose to. If there are a desperate needs to copy something from the lack of our own creativities why not turned Monas or Taman Suropati into a mini Central Park in New York where people can freely enjoy their lunches they bring from home in a picnic basket sitting next to an executive with a laptop doing his or her work out of the office taking advantage of the “hotspot” internet connection?. All these can be free of charge. All it takes is for the municipal government of Jakarta to provide enough waste baskets around the places and continuous Public Service Announcement in the media to brainwash the people with a propaganda for not littering to keep the city clean. Now, this type of propaganda surely is much more beneficial than some tacky, cheezy and artificial vanity on the standard of what is the true meaning of open public spaces that imitates some far away places with totally different vibes and cultures.

Midnight Express Train: Destination Los Orgasmos

The figure stood there in the dark half illuminated by the lamp clock coming from the access ramp. Its long figure stretch out in the night in a stand still yet fervently awaited a charge of energy that produced some mechanical thrust of solid throbbing piston like movement that will take it to reach an excited destination.

Once in a while there were hissing sounds of breathless grunt that came from the pulsating broiler working over time. The steady flow of energy produced sent a wave of heat throughout the complex blood veins like maze and added the thick humidity already hanging in the damp and sticky air.

The figure appeared to stretch further as the hissing sounds exhaled a rush of excess heat like warm breath cutting through a cold winter air. As it stretched and vibrate the figure came to life when the unseen force within created motion at slow steady pace. It was as if the slow burning coal from the broiler commanded all the mechanical muscles to moved action and in reaction with such perfect precision.

As the pace increased the scent of wet and slippery lubrication from inside the axis grew stronger while clatter of motions grew louder and faster in orchestra – like harmony echoing the combustion of more heat breathing into the night.

Fully charged motion at steady pace was moving with yet unknown destination but with controlled precision as if it was afraid to lose the power that would break the already perfect mechanical movement. Working in deep intimacy with one another, every mechanical muscles and its counter – part explored the crucial spot of every protruding parts to discover multiple height of momentums as the motion raced with time.

Traveling through this seemingly unending journey the momentum reached certain new height gestured by a floating like bursting explosion that caused the motion to slowly relax and finally arrived at a complete halt.

The figure again turned into a stand still while letting out last excess of hot steams into the night. With its now well lubricated axis the figure approached a silence station with its empty benches.

The dark cold night once more accompanied the now lone figure staring at another lamp clock eagerly awaiting its next embarkation with anticipation of yet another breathtaking destination.

Picture sources:
Train - SORE's debut album "Centralismo" cover design by Mayumi Haryoto
Woman and Clock - Louis Vitton Print Ad (source N/A)

A Cup of Coffee and Sex, Please?

Imagine saying this when ordering something to drink in a café or coffee shop. When associated with sex perhaps the drink that come to mind would be something alcoholic in nature. However, it couldn’t be more wrong as it turned out the world would choose coffee. This reminds me about an ad series by Absolut Vodka with a copy by William Shakespeare which says drinks “provokes the desire but takes away the performance". Curiously it makes me wonder how a male populated vodka drinkers in certain parts of the world are rated on their bedroom routine?

Getting back to the coffee issue, there have been scientific evidence relating caffeine to be not only act a stimulant that increases blood pressure but also to improve sexual functionalities of both men and women. It was recorded that after coffee was introduced in Europe there were more madames in the brothel houses of Europe that have a patented coffee making apparatus than men. This is simply a wonderful example of economic forms between the oldest profession in the world and a brand positioning that says coffee rules the bedroom.

It was also told that there was a petition by women in England in the 16th century against this liquor substance called coffee because it made the men think better. Now this for me is a little bit confusing. Was it bad that coffee makes men think better or was it just unthinkable that men were better in bed? Is this the same as saying that men think better with their penises? If truth were to be told, I have been accused of not using my brain and thinking rather from between the leg but trust me this definitely was not seen as being equal to brilliantly charming or clever.

Whatever the effects are of caffeine on the body metabolism, coffee has the heritage and history that relates to the mind and spirit. As well as to improve the process of oneness in physical intimacy for pleasures of the flesh, coffee was also known to help clear the path to enlightenment during spiritual process to achieve oneness with the divine.

Coffee or Qahwa as it was known during the Ottoman Empire and throughout the Arabic Peninsula was widely used in Sufism as a stimulant to leap from the earthly body in flight to becoming one with the grand universe.

In general terms Qahwa means wine but somehow the meaning was changed as the intake of any alcoholic substances was prohibited in Islam. Being denied the substance that was most common in other religions and cultures in order to reach nirvana, coffee then was discovered as the substance that helps clarity of the mind to reach the blessed state with God. Judging from this fact then maybe those women back in England did have a point that this Qahwa or the Wine of Islam do really make men think better.

Interesting as it is about the history and heritage of coffee I do wonder now if the term “let’s go have coffee” should have a sexual implication attached to it?

Self - Inflicting Pleasure

The noise of busy airport terminal always sounds soothing to me. That female voice announcing flights flying off to cosmopolitan cities like Frankfurt and Prague or exotic destinations like Morocco and Bali is like an open invitation to escape the current dreading reality of my life. The transit terminal that morning smells of freshly brewed coffee from the coffee shops that just opened their doors to the global commuters from all around the world. By now I have a little less than an hour before it’s time to board the plane again continuing the flight to my final destination. I sit there in my usual corner table in one of the coffee shop with a cup of hot coffee in front of me. No, I never set foot in this place before but there was once upon a time that I declared every corner table all over the world to be mine.

As expected this corner table in this busy transit terminal has my name on it. I watched people come and go around me. The rush of business travelers hurried to meet their plane as if missing the next board meeting in some cities will proof to be deadly to their corporate careers. In deep contrast to the business travelers earlier I saw a couple of backpackers with their laid back attitude with all the time in the world on their side. My eyes caught the site of several stewardesses in different color uniforms with their compact hand carrier walked by in fast paced ignoring all the signage around them as if their beautiful long legs know exactly where to go. There is something comforting and intimate about stewardesses in the way they speak to you in a friendly and polite tone attending to your every need. I wonder how these women can manage to look so smart and attractive this early in the morning. Well, maybe I’m just crazy about women in uniform.I stared at a piece of white form in front of me wondering if I should fill it out now or later when I am already on board the plane.

I looked at my watch and saw that I still have enough time to leisurely finish my coffee and fill out the form if I wanted to. Secretly I have this longing desire to hear them announce that my flight would be delay therefore prolonging the time I can sit at my corner table. This could well be the reflection of my life at this moment which could use some transit time of its own from its everyday routines. Suddenly, I can just see my life sit at my corner table drinking my coffee in a busy international terminal without a care in the world while deciding which flight it choose to take to be the next destination, may that be an exotic or cosmopolitan ones. I looked again at the white disembarkation form distributed on board earlier by a sweet looking oriental stewardess in a high split body hugging Qipao dress.

I decided to just go ahead filling out the form. I filled out all the required information like name, passport number and flight number. After filling out the spaces stating my boring destination I see the boxes to check for Male or Female. This part always amuses me and I wonder why they use Sex as a heading instead of Gender. I felt like adding additional two boxes to choose for, Occasionally and Self Inflicting Pleasure.

Shattering my wish for the delay, I heard the announcement of my next flight. Grabbing my stuffs I start heading towards my gate. Choosing to walk instead of taking the automatic walkway I passed by the immigration counters with several line of people queuing. I noticed separate counters for Foreigners and Resident Passport Holders. They should have made one counter for me that marked Alien as I just didn’t feel like belonging to this universe right now.

Thinking along that line as I entered and smells that familiar scent of an airline cabin staring at the sweet smiles and greetings of the stewardess I wondered maybe I should’ve chose Female in that form before and that might turn my life around a little bit. Emerging in my next boring destination re-born as a new person could be well what I needed now.

Girl Under A Willow

The blinding morning sun shot through the windshield while a radio announcer’s voice filled the car’s interior chattering a morning program with her on–air guest on the latest lifestyle trend on mind and spirit. It was a typical morning program rundown of traffic report and weather forecast for the day. I drove the car for the last twenty minutes in the light morning rush hour. Something about morning radio program made people tuned in the minute they got into their cars. It was as if people were afraid to miss what went on in the rest of the world since they went to sleep the night before. Actually all you heard about is the usual heavy traffic everywhere and the same weather report as the day before due to the limited options of a two seasons country which was either hot and humid or rain with occasional report on sporadic flood.

It was late November and it has been raining almost daily. Surprisingly the sun was out that morning creating a shiny face on the still wet road from last night’s rain. Funny how traffic seemed slower on wet road as if illustrating people walking on a slippery surface. My fingers kept pushing on the memory buttons switching stations without really looking for anything particular on the radio. As I entered the narrow streets of a trendy neighborhood light drizzle started to hit the windshield. The sun has taken shelter behind the now grey cloud. I stared ahead navigating the car through alley like streets with chic galleries and cafes lined up on both sides. I noticed other drivers started to have their wipers working as I stared ahead and watched droplets of water on the windshield.

My thought raced forward to what were waiting for me at work. The millions things that needed to be done on the newly acquired account and several other brand communication campaigns that needed to be strategize. Not to mention to looked after one or two still pending creative and technical executions on some new web development that needed to be presented to clients. Peculiar as it was certain trades tended to group together forming an illusion of images and envious observations to those outside the trade. Superficial as it may seem but it never failed to attract certain stereotypes. The neighborhood I was driving through was a good example. I was almost sure that whoever it was that developed the area didn’t really plan it to turn out the way it was. In the last few years it has developed into a pleasant area surrounded with a bohemian flavor. Art galleries and cafes mixed together with modest small proprietor shops and residential for the upper-classes. As if it was not enough to commercialize the area, high – end retail shops soon followed accompanied by corporate of the creative trade such as ad agencies, creative boutiques, photography studios and production houses. “People watching” which was used to be the favorite past time belonging only to the residents has now became a commodity for sale especially on the week – ends. Not long after that a new campus for one of the top university relocated its schools of Architecture and Art & Design only a stone throw away putting one final touch to what every trendy neighborhood should have, a laid back but intellectual academic atmosphere.

Another two blocks and a few more turns will took me to my office. I felt lucky that driving to work no longer include enduring the stressful busy freeways and major roads some commuters had to take to get to the central business district down town. My thoughts were re-winded to the times when I was one of those commuters several years back. Being just another one in a million suit and tie corporate man trying to climb the corporate ladder. In my case being in the fast pace investment banking world with cuff links and suspender dress code. I supposed I should feel grateful then that I was miles away from the busy freeways and the suit and tie and for being in the trade that had a free spirit ed atmosphere. It was almost three years since I have made partner in a small marketing communication agency. Being one of the first to go into digital marketing has given the agency the edge it needed when corporations finally considering shifting into new media for their communication. Baiting for the big fish clients in the last few years has finally paid off and has given the agency a nice chunk of retainer fees.

My searched for the unknown finally stopped when Carly Simon’s "Itsy Bitsy Spider" came over the car speakers. In another ten minutes or so I would arrived in my destination. It could have been the desire to prolong the journey that all of a sudden have made me decide to walked the rest of the distance and started eyeing for empty parking spaces on the street. Being in the retail block with business’ that mostly opened at ten o’clock I easily found a few empty spaces to park my car. I parked the car in front of a florist that sells imported flowers. While getting out of the car I caught a glimpse of the shop girl carrying imported tulips from Holland and putting them on a display bucket. That reminded me that I should send some flowers to one of my staff who has just given birth the day before. I quickly went inside and ordered some sunflowers to be delivered to the hospital. Pushing the glass door on my way out of the florist I realized that the rain has stopped. Carrying my worn out leather back pack over my shoulder I started walking.

As I walked my mind started to wander again to those years of soul searching or should I said searching for something that was right for my soul. The struggled between choosing a conventional path and the attraction for unconventionalities were like the pain of my existence that I had to go through while growing up. I was still not sure whether it was just naïve ignorance or simply the lack of confidence to go against conventionality that had led me later on to conform to the larger sense of belonging. Surely I thought it was not because of insecurity as I have always found certain comfort with my own insecurities. Somehow recognizing my own fears has helped me to stay focus to my true being. It was like a secret intimacy that existed deep within me and was my creation of the art of happiness and my covert sanctuary whenever I was in doubt with my surrounding.

A large Ukiyo-e portraying Kiyonaga's art print of Girl under a Willow on the wall of a fusion Sushi place distracted my thought. This briefly took me away from what the Buddhist called the "sorrowful world" to its ironic wordplay, "the floating world" of a 17^th centuries Japan - Edo period with its complicated philosophies and sense of Samurai chivalry¹. I smiled and thought of my own complexity as comparison. Still staring at the glass covered poster I saw the reflection of me, a man in faded grey corduroy Levi’s wearing a wind breaker over a t – shirt and a Timberland shoes. A far cry indeed from the drawing of a man in dark colored chalked Armani suit and cuff linked white shirt with silk tie. I never did find the passion for suspenders but I did eventually get tiresome of cufflinks and everything else that came with it. It was never me and neither the teakwood paneled cigar – smoked board room nor the fluctuations of the market index had ever given me any significant gratification. The agony of waking up one day and finding me doing something for the sake of doing it and for self security turned out to be more frightening than the thought of losing that security. Suddenly, the art of happiness is merely now just a fiction of my imagination. Light drizzle has started again and pulling the hood of the wind breaker over my head I continued my steps on the wet cobble stone pavement in the direction toward my building.

While abstraction had no real cost, reality did bite. Stepping out of a comfort zone turned out to be more than just carrying the burden of economic consequences but also the requirement to establish a new self – identity which closely resembled the nightmare of an introvert teenager at lost in the jungle of a new high – school. That same lost feeling was a real challenge especially in the planet of creative communication filled with over blown egos that were not only could create legendary campaigns but frequently also disastrous creative landmines. The supposedly combination of art and science between business strategy and creative solution could and often easily mistaken to be the processed to create an award winning fine art project instead. It was a lethal occupational hazard as well as a chaotic war zone. Egos were easily bruised or took a nose dive imitating a kamikaze pilot plunging his plane over the Pacific Ocean into an allied aircraft carrier during World War II. I sometimes marveled how all these could create envious observations to those outside the circle.

I stopped at a zebra cross waiting for the green light and looked at the corner store watching a visual merchandiser worked on a shoe display for Manolo Blahnik new arrivals. He artistically placed a pair of red patent leather sandal against a black steel stand highlighting the gold metal trim and heel of the sandal. The positioning was in such a way that the passionate red vintage style sandal with its beautiful curve reminded me of a sensual Flamenco dancer. The light switched to green and as I crossed the street I thought about how an insightful positioning combined with memorable visuals could really did the job. Those shoes displays certainly have attracted countless loyal long legged beauties to walked into the store and spent money on shoes that at least equal to two months salary of a blue collar worker. Nevertheless, I could have imagined that there were criticisms from those who effortlessly dismissed this to be just another trivial vanity or worse, a shallow urban chic nonsense.

Approaching my office I realized that the pyramidal needs which set priorities and petty importance sometime worked against each other which made people see things from different frame of mind. A product of a free spirited surroundings often combined with playful childlike thought might seemed mediocre to the eye of a practical rigid mind who puts value on properness. Prestigious achievements between the two poles then could only be understood by how the stars worked the different horoscopes belonging to these souls.

Pushing the door to my building I winked at my receptionist with the pale faced Gothic make up as she mumbled a soft husky good morning to me. I stopped by the pantry to make my second cup of coffee for the day. On the walked up to the duplex section of the office I was greeted with sounds of Jimmy Durante’s “As Time Goes By” competing with Radio Head’s “Hail to the Thief” coming from MP3’s blasted from G5 Mac computers. I smiled at this assemble of the old and new working together creating strange but harmonious unity. Sipping my coffee at my desk I looked through my glass walled room and watched others did their morning routine. As I turned to the window I watched the rain and saw how the window glass stopped the rain from crashing in and created tiny rivers flowing from gravity.

I liked what I did there and I loved the playful and free spirited environment represented that morning by Durante and Radio Head. Strange as it was that probably to another observer but for me it was a representation of "properness" and "free spirit" working together to formed a character that fitted me perfectly. Whether or not it portrayed the same thing on the rest of society's mainstream was entirely a different story as I often considered myself to be a rather strange character. I did realize that having lived and digested the past days of my life, taking and learning what they had to offer has taken me that duplex on that rainy November morning. It might or might not have been the right place for my soul. The prestigious trade award hanged on the wall may satisfy the soul for the moment but can easily became petty importance the next day. But I knew then that whatever the searched was, the art of happiness was about acceptance and understanding. They were no longer about fictions running around wild but were about learning to understand what I could not accept and to accept what I could not understand. To lived the day with what I knew from yesterday and prayed tomorrow will come as only faith has the control to bring me tomorrow.

There is no rain today as it is now in the middle of July and the sun has set for the day bringing a cooler breeze to what has been a hot and humid day. I am looking out through my window at the street where it is already well lit from the colonial style light poles. From my window I see an owner of a brand new green Volkswagen is getting out of her car parked in that exact space where I parked my car that rainy November morning. Passing my window she goes straight to the newly opened yoghurt and bakery store next door. I turn around and wa