langkau fiction

I was watching the Benfica-Milan game this morning at six o’clock– the TV stations here do not telecast ‘live’ matches if it don’t involve EPL teams — which ended in a 1-1 draw. That also means Milan will go through into the next knockout rounds while Benfica unfortunately have to bow out of the competition. It was good to see Rui Costa on the pitch today, although the prospect of him destroying Milan (which he almost did several times!) would have been a nightmare. But I will not review the game lest it’d bore you all to death, especially those crazy EPL fans! Blah!

I want to write about AC Milan’s forward Alberto Gilardino. I’ve had enough of him, and his transfer to this prestigious club two seasons ago is now a flop! He hasn’t been producing any performance that I can consider of any significance, and with Andriiy Shevchenko’s departure to Chelsea, Milan’s goal-scoring department is left wanting. Kaka, Seerdof, Pirlo and hey, even that fatboy R99 have been scoring consistently during Gilardino’s tenancy at Milan. And they are, except for Fatboy, all midfielders!

What irritates me about Gilardino is his particular affection for gravity. Yes, you heard me right: gravity. He trips, he falls and he dives consistently to the point that it becomes a liability to the whole team! You can watch one of his favorite footballing skills in the video below (Celtic-Milan game). Pathetic.

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=8W00d3yJKl4]

And that’s not the only time he does that. This morning’s game witnessed him tripping, falling and diving every time an opponent touches him. Yet, he did not contribute anything in doing so. He did not open up space for his teammates, he did not create any significant assist that might lead to the team scoring at least a goal, and he missed at least two goal-scoring chances in the first half. In the second half, Gilardino literally transformed into a ghost, a spiritual entity that has no involvement in the present life activities.

I am disgusted. Alberto Gilardino should change his profession. He should just participate in the springboard diving competition. Play ping-pong or something. This boy has got to go!

Finally, finally, my stupid task at work is over! Well, at least for now. I can have some space to breathe and contemplate on the foolishness of doing this thing called ‘work’! My colleagues would say work equals to money equals to life. And they would say this is the practical school of thought that should not be discarded lest the whole world will crumble at the feet of idealism and illusion. No, no. No one wants that. No one wants to shatter that sacred equation: W+$=life. Who would want to exchange this culturally constructed reality with blank idealism? Simple. People are just scared of uncertainty, situations that do not provide any relations to our concept of reality.

But let me tell you all this reality thing is bullshit lah…and I, the great Langkau Fiction, will tell you (the secretive) why. It is because. You. Oh, oh…by the way, have you seen the unicorn with five tails galloping near Batu 10? Or mermaids sitting on the banks of Sarawak Kiri river? Or the bridge-building giant with one eye? Then. That’s your answer.

I’m off for my beer dosage now.

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=fz9VpQ-KUkk]

Had too much to drink last night at the usual fortress of servitude bar. Actually, I had too much to drink for the past week, and the little amount of rest that I put myself through isn’t that healthy, I think. Anyways, I woke up this morning with Zimbabwe playing in my head. It was the herbsman Nesta himself! This is one of my favorite Bob Marley songs (‘Survival’ is a great album). The man even performed the song during Zimbabwe’s independence day in April 1980, and it was said that the newly liberated Zimbabweans flawlessly cited the lyrics of this song better than their own national anthem! This was Nesta’s first and last trip to the African continent.

This video was shot in September 1980, with Nesta and his Wailers (not the original Wailers, that is) rehearsing the song in Miami, Florida. This is far from being a good Bob Marley video with the sound and visual glitches (bear with it) but it is nevertheless a rare one. Besides, it was the 80s, what do you expect? Oh, listen to the guitar tuning at the end of the song. Reminds me of how I first learned tuning my guitar. I have bad ears, y’know. Tum tum, tumm tumm, tummm tummm, tummmm tummmm…Natty dread rides again!

Zimbabwe

Every man gotta right to decide his own destiny,
And in this judgement there is no partiality.
So arm in arms, with arms, well fight this little struggle,
cause thats the only way we can overcome our little trouble.

Brother, youre right, youre right,
Youre right, youre right, youre so right!
We gon fight (we gon fight), well have to fight (we gon fight),
We gonna fight (we gon fight), fight for our rights!

Natty dread it in-a (Zimbabwe);
Set it up in (Zimbabwe);
Mash it up-a in-a Zimbabwe (Zimbabwe);
Africans a-liberate (Zimbabwe), yeah.

No more internal power struggle;
We come together to overcome the little trouble.
Soon well find out who is the real revolutionary,
cause I dont want my people to be contrary.

And, brother, youre right, youre right,
Youre right, youre right, youre so right!
Well ave to fight (we gon fight), we gonna fight (we gon fight)
Well ave to fight (we gon fight), fighting for our rights!

Mash it up in-a (Zimbabwe);
Natty trash it in-a (Zimbabwe);
Africans a-liberate Zimbabwe (Zimbabwe);
Ini a-liberate Zimbabwe.

(brother, youre right,) youre right,
Youre right, youre right, youre so right!
We gon fight (we gon fight), well ave to fight (we gon fight),
We gonna fight (we gon fight), fighting for our rights!

To divide and rule could only tear us apart;
In everyman chest, mm – there beats a heart.
So soon well find out who is the real revolutionaries;
And I dont want my people to be tricked by mercenaries.

Brother, youre right, youre right,
Youre right, youre right, youre so right!
Well ave to fight (we gon fight), we gonna fight (we gon fight),
Well ave to fight (we gon fight), fighting for our rights!

Natty trash it in-a Zimbabwe (Zimbabwe);
Mash it up in-a Zimbabwe (Zimbabwe);
Set it up in-a Zimbabwe (Zimbabwe);
Africans a-liberate Zimbabwe (Zimbabwe);
Africans a-liberate Zimbabwe (Zimbabwe);
Natty dub it in-a Zimbabwe (Zimbabwe)

My boss caught up with me at the office this morning and handed me an envelope with a thick letter in it. By the light creamy color of the letter I knew it was my annual evaluation memo. Last year, my boss gave me a terrible result, which was totally unjustifiable especially considering the quality of work that I had accomplished during the past year. I wrote him a memo to express my concern with the way we have been graded. No response from the slave master. Today, I went into my office, slowly unsheathed the letter from its envelope. After last year’s unstandardized evaluation, I didn’t expect much this time around although I believed that I have successfully completed all my projects last year. Then, I read it and there in bold it wrote ‘excellent’! That’s all I needed! I patted myself on the back but at the same time, strictly reminded myself of the inconsistency in our performance evaluation practices.

I shouldn’t be smiling too much because our system is fucked up cannot be trusted.

The story of my life this week was narrated by a crab. Yes, a crab. Last Sunday evening, a crab bit pinched my index finger till it bled profusely. No, no. I didn’t lose a lot of blood. But it was painful. So, I thought “Oh, well…it’s just a bite. How bad can that be?”

Well, by Monday the wound turned purplish blue and my finger became slightly swollen. I thought, it’s just my body reacting to the pain.

On Tuesday, of all my body’s anatomy, this particular right index finger received my utmost attention. It was throbbing as if something in it was about to burst out any moment. The whole of Tuesday, I was feeling nauseous and dizzy. Went to see the doctor about it, she told me my finger’s infected and that I should take antibiotics. I asked if I have tetanus from the bite and she replied “Well, it’s too late to do anything about it if you do. You should have come to see me 24 hours after the bite.” When she gave me the antibiotics, I asked her if I could consume alcohol with the medication. “Just beers”, I assured her. And she told me that’s up to me but preferably not. (I should have asked “What will happen if I ….?) When I reached home, I did not take the antibiotics and that evening, I went to the pub instead. Had lots of beers to drink and the effect somehow numbed the pain. For a while.

By Wednesday, there was a sudden pain in my finger when I woke up in the morning. I looked at it and almost peed in my pants when I saw it was the size of a sausage, blue at the tip and damn, it was so painful! I thought of chopping it off immediately before I thought “Shit! If I chop it off, then how am I going to flip the pages of the book I’m reading?!” I didn’t chop it off, realizing the importance of an index finger. My index finger. The more I looked at it, the more I said “No, no…this isn’t my finger….” But it is. On top of all these strangeness, I mysteriously contracted a fever. Went to another doctor (a paediatrician) to ask if my finger was infected. She said yes, and I asked her if she has antibiotics that could go along well with alcohol: “Just beers”, I assured her. She looked at me, thinking I must’ve been joking. When she saw that I was not trying to be a clown, she said “Yes..but..hhmm..nevermind. But just finish the course, ok?” I smiled, nodded, took the medicine, said ‘thank you’ and left. Didn’t go to work because of the fever and I stayed at home the whole day, contemplating how my life was almost destroyed by a crab. A crab, for goodness sake!

Yesterday evening, I decided to put the antibiotics to the test against beers at Ruai. So, I went there immediately after work — by then, my fever mysteriously disappeared — and drank my first can of Tiger. “hhmm…no effect…”, I thought. I ordered for another can and the bartender asked me “Weren’t you sick yesterday? Didn’t you say you’re on antibiotics?” I told her that I was part of an important experiment that investigates crab bite cases among victims who are on antibiotics and consuming beers. “Yeah, whatever”, she said. After the fifth can of beer, my head started to lose its normal orientation of the world. I was puzzled by this cosmic event. I told the bartender that I’ve had enough and it was time for me to go. I made a mental note: antibiotics + beers = not good.

Today, I’m feeling a bit better. I didn’t wake up with a hangover (as I feared) and the swollen finger is gradually returning to its normal self. The only thing I have now is the cough. Don’t know where it came from but it’s with me now. Damn crab.