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Wednesday, August 5

Daunn Hijau, Benang Merah

Me: I just experienced the point of marijuana influenced sense enhancement.

I was watching this scene, its still on first glimpse then a psychotic spastic movement catches your eye and you notice all the tiny million little details, subtle wind, gravity, flower ripples on water. Everything else. Like people, and the whole frame just saturated in front of me.

Me: I am a pothead.

You: Have there been very many successful potheads?

M: I cant seem to get my head in order.

Y: Something productive?

M: no, I think I’ll just sit here, watch it all pass by.

Here! Here are my quips and quirks! My quips and quirks silenced by the sight of an orange and black hummingbird.

M: Nooow I get it.

Y: Get what?

M: Henry millers stand still like the hummingbird.

Y: What about it?

Wait I jumped the gun, I got the two ends without finding the string between them first.

M: Everything is still until you glimpse the hummingbird.

Y: What the fuck does that have to do with the book?

We are a new generation of aimless wanderers, we cant find this invisible guide, the pocketbook to life, we fuck around, we deconstruct our features and it all just becomes one big blurry fleshy mess, our cultures cross and clash, we swing back and forth between extremities, we are the carnival, we wanna hang on, we get so dizzy, vomit and say; it was the best goddamn adrenalin rush of our lives.

I would love to orchestrate conversations. I would have fun with puns and go wild with rhymes. Wild with fever, wild like the phantom cat, alliteration and how certain characters look good when grouped together, NKLM, XR. Random orchestrated conversations. So there’s no point to it all, but the words look good, sound good. The beats, the timing, playing god.

S: If you had to fuck one guy, throughout all time. who would you do.

X: ……

X: Jesus

S: wtf.

X: well, if there ever was a guy who could make me cum, it’d be Jesus…right??


S: that is so sacriligious.

X: yeah. sorry.


S: he’d taste of beard.

S: or bread.

X: beard. bread. wine and fish.

What is the point to any conversation under the influence of drugs? You talk and talk and you’re both like, what the fuck? What the fuck is going on? Hey, what were we talking about again? You tell a story, udah panjang lebar, going off on tangents, then you lull, circle back to, what was I saying again? the point is laughter. Conclusion in all it’s simplicity. It’s the zenith. It’s the point to what you’re saying. It’s the euphoria of connecting with someone else who’s equally fucked.


  1. Anonymous2:19:00 PM

    i choose weed.
    because my brain is basically an organic supermachine filled with data and statistics and laughter and when the weed hits it, it retrieves the little bits of un-jaded truth that answer life's little questions.
    truth tends to hide under the superego and if you can't balance the id to match its counter-part (as I cannot at times), it gets lost and is nothing but a photograph.

    sober, i am full of rhetoric. stoned, i am full of solipsism. either way, i am full. this filling sensation, that is God.

    and there IS proof. this comment would not be here if i did not feel a pang of awe reading this post. that pang is God.

    in fact, as i'm rambling on and on in this little comment box, there is a pitter patter of feet outside my room and it rouses curiosity in my gut. that is God.

    my iTunes is on shuffle and right now bran van 3000 is playing a song that reminds me of summer of '97... the drive-in movies plus corn dogs and the first time i fell in lust. this is God.

    this LONG-ASS comment, the energy it took to write it. this is God.

    the way i am blase about my unshaved legs. this is God.

    can you guess my conscious state at this moment as i type this without over-thinking? sober or stoned?

  2. Anonymous2:29:00 PM

    by the way...this is ironic. you spewed a perfect bout of philosophy that shot down all traces of pothead-ism. but immediately after that show of sheer intelligence, that last sentence.

    "Especially when their are kids in Chiang Mai and Aceh who eat weed for breakfast."

    'specially when their is spelled there. 'specially when it's nearly dawn and i'm still an editor at heart.
    'specially when i've run out of weed and substituting it with Bintang bottles.
    'specially when this long ass double comment is basically just a release from my pot withdrawal symptoms.

  3. bwaaahahaha i love the tick tick boom shakalaka laka tick tick way your brain functions, the bpm is as random as soft porn hotel. they make me dance.