Writing a fiction

I haven't been writing fiction since a long long long long time. Yes, I realise I said too many longs, but it is true. My fiction writing has expired and if it's waiting for a resurrection, it may never happen. I just don't have the patience anymore. I don't have the energy. I think I'm a shit writer (although it may be related to my lack of self-esteem more than anything). I can't focus long enough to make a long consistent story. Even in my blog post I tend to write things all over the place. No coherent plot or structure. Or at least that's how I see my own writings.

This is why I still admire and applause anyone who has succeeded in publishing their fruits of labour, their tears and blood, their love and despair, in a form of a book...no matter how shitty their books are. What first needs to be appreciated is the effort, and then later the work. If it turns out these books are really bad, I can just throw them into a dark corner where they will only gather dust and be forgotten, but at least I have appreciated them by reading them first before I throw them into the waste land where all shit books go. If it turns out the books are brilliant, I will start recommending them to other people. The more people know about them, the better.

Though everyone need to remember that when you are publishing something, sending your ideas to the big bad world, delivering your thoughts to the hungry (and sometimes vicious) readers, you might get reaction(s). Sometimes it's good, sometimes is horrible. That's just the way things are. You want to become a trigger, or at least that's what my writer friends said about their works, so be prepared to get burned, or to shine through with that fire burning inside you.

So this post goes to a friend who has succeeded conquering all barriers to give birth to what he considered his work of art. I salute you and I hope this is just a start for something even more incredible in the future.

Jakarta, I don't think I miss you

Jakarta is the city that you either love or hate. I moved out of Jakarta a year ago. The city made me ill, metaphorically and literally. But I have been spending some time back. A friend offered me a place to stay. It's in one of the executive apartment complexes in the city. Super fancy, super modern, superficial.

The first and most annoying part of staying in this place is that I can't actually walk to the apartment building from the main entrance. The main street that leads to the building apparently can only be taken when you are in a vehicle, i.e. a car. You can't even take an ojek (motorbike taxi) into the complex. So, if you're not in a car, you have to find a footpath that goes under the bridge/street and find your way to the building. I haven't found the footpath. I got away walking with walking on the forbidden street. Although, when I reached the end of the street, a security guy stopped me and asked whether there wasn't any security guard on the entrance. I said no. That was a lie.

This reminds me of how back in the days, rich people made 'special' entrance and paths for their servants. It was supposedly to prevent the master(s) from seeing the servants walking about doing their jobs. The rich didn't want to know about what happened in the servants' quarter. They didn't want to be associated with the low(er) class's activities. I thought it was all in the past and that modern people in modern city like Jakarta wouldn't do such thing.

There are high walls around the complex. There are poor people behind the walls. A slum area sits next to the executive apartments, separated by high walls. Reminds me a bit of Gaza. How walls can divide people.

Well, the truth is there's a real segregation in this city. The rich is pampered, while the lees fortunate is cast away. They are hidden behind high concrete walls, under a bridge, in dark corners and alleys where one might get stabbed or raped and no one would have come to help. And I guess the worse part is how so many people just choose to be oblivious because it suits them.