At the end of the day I realize I’m not bound for normalcy. The haunting bad childhood, the constant chaos in the hell I’ve been living in, the paranoia and nightmares it creates, resulting in trust issues, low self-esteem, and sometimes subtle borderline tendency. With these demons bearing down on me, I struggle to make a heavenly way towards the finale. It takes a pure soul, bred in the same hell as mine, to yank myself out of the darkness.
But does such soul exist? So far there’s no print of evidence that one can grow up into an angel when fire thrown around its home and evil rooted in its gene. Even if it does exist, will it take the risk to dive into the fire and pull me out of this gravity? I doubt it.
Perhaps it’s best to maintain my state of being despite knowing my body is immersed in sins. Better get along with the demons and wear a mask as an armor to protect myself when I walk the earth, as I make my way by hiding my true face behind a mere facade. Participating in the game of survival for the slightest form of joy. A passive and secretive admiration towards man made exquisite opus-es.
Lying against the ceiling, wondering, contemplating, searching for meaning. My void’s filled with anxiety, my soul feels hollow and empty, grasping for clarity. Drawn into the vortex of confusion, accompanied by the desperate need of a vision. Stumbled and fumbled, crawling and creeping.
That is what usually happens when I lose touch with the almighty, abandoning spirituality. When I distract myself from the heavy burden of comprehending philosophy. Switching Tarkovsky with a lighthearted comedy. Maybe this dull brain of mine is indeed wired differently, easily slipped and succumbed into anything broody.
Turning away from the blatantly unbearable contradictions that makes life seemingly absurd has done me no good. Existentialism is not a tool for me to appear bright, edgy and cool. It’s a necessity to keep paddling, swimming, driving through this rocky luck determined for me. I may as well embraced this bittersweet destiny. Holding onto it tightly.
It’s time to gather up my scattered faith. Stop ruminating all things done and said. Let the numbness melt away. Start over with a brand new day. Save my life once again. Wild Strawberries, Taste of Cherry, Through A Glass Darkly, keeping me sane.
Brian Wilson said God talked to him through music. I have to agree even though I’m not a musician. I’m just a person who appreciate music and feel deeply about them. I feel that music can be magical and transcendence, like it takes me travel beyond space and time, and I just zone out, I suddenly experience a serial wave of emotions when I listen to heavenly music, and out of the blue I become a complete human being, flooded by feelings, finding a way to connect with the rest of the universe, and guided by God Himself to appreciate one moment of enchantment.
So often in my life, music, along with films, help me through difficult times. When it feels like I’m done with life, I accidently discover new music that touches my heart and soul. I often become hopeless and get overwhelmed with life. I have nobody around and it feels like the world is ending and I’m at the end of a tunnel facing a dead end. And I have difficulties processing my emotions, I just feel numb, I am not happy and it seems like deep down I’m suffocating but I can’t cry. But then there’s always a song that can perfectly capture how I feel inside. Knowing the artist can express my messed up emotion perfectly I no longer feel alone. I’m so happy and grateful that the power that holds the universe keep lasting shows me beautiful songs and music.
My world is covered in darkness My sun is gloomy A black hole with its singularity But whenever I hear the stream of those melodies I see you in colors A glimpse of light flickers Unveiling its luster A new dawn has risen For me to start over Under your undying spirit and guidance
This particular piece of writing was inspired by the masterpiece film Taste of Cherry (1997) directed by Abbas Kiarostami as art in its great form and the nature itself, for it’s the beauty of nature that I hold on to while surviving this life no matter how unbearable and depressing it is, and the key is to appreciate the details.
If it's not for your beauty My body would've been home to maggots If it's not for the way you move following where the wind blows I am weightless If it's not for the blues, beneath and above And the green around I'll be six feet under the ground If it's not for the brisk smile of the children and the elders Blood is shed If it's not for the electricity in the neurons The journey thorugh memories My heart will freeze If it's not for Vivaldi's four seasons All my senses will be numb If it's not for the sheer joy of laughter My lungs explode If it's not for the art and poetry describing how you look My goal is descending If it's not for the wonders of tomorrow While time stands still and so are you I am no longer
Bangunan bernuansa biru menjulang tinggi di bagian utara Kota Muntilan. Dikelilingi rumput dan halaman yang luas, tempat ini mengirimkan sinyal bagi pengunjung untuk merasa aman dan nyaman. Dulu, sekarang, dan mungkin esok, aku selalu berada di sana mengembara. Menapaki setiap sudutnya sembari bertanya-tanya. Berkontemplasi sambil refleksi diri, memikirkan eksistensi yang menjemukan, keabsurdan kehidupan, dan kebingungan dalam menjadi manusia. Atau aku hanya mengelayap, menghabiskan hari dengan canda tawa bersama sahabat, membaca majalah secara acak, menginventaris buku-buku filsafat dan novel-novel misteri di dalam benakku, juga duduk termenung menunggui laptop dengan bosan.
Kini perpustakaan ini ramai pengunjung, aku bersyukur namun aku juga menyayangkan. Bersyukur karena ini dapat menarik orang untuk membaca, namun menyayangkan bahwa tempat ini tak lagi menjadi rahasia kami. Kami bertiga yang dulunya siswi-siswi yang dirundung dan terasingkan, mencoba menemukan dunia fantasi dan pelarian di tempat ini. Setelah dewasa dan berulang kali ditampar realita, kami mendapuk diri sebagai sampah masyarakat. Terlempar jauh dari lingkaran modernitas. Kami akan selalu bersandar di pojokan, mengamati dan menghakimi tanpa ikut menari di tengah hiruk pikuk para pencari keuntungan. Karena itu, ingin rasanya perpustakaan kecil nan usang itu abadi. Supaya ketika kami lelah kami punya rumah untuk kembali. Para petugas dan pelayan sudah hafal kami.
Para filsuf jalanan titisan Diogenes dahulu menjamah tempat ini. Manusia-manusia eksentrik, orang-orang buangan, dan para penyendiri sering berkumpul di sini. Segelintir anak sekolah dengan kepolosannya melintas ke sana kemari. Kurasa bau apek dan cahaya yang remang lebih tertahankan ketimbang jendela-jendela kaca lebar dan wifi berkecepatan tinggi.
Aku rindu. Rindu menyembunyikan buku di balik deretan katalog tebal meskipun aku tak sempat membacanya. Rindu berteduh meskipun badan sudah bayah kuyup merintangi hujan demi bisa berada di sana. Rindu menyelundupkan makanan berkuah yang dijajakan di depan sekolah. Rindu berebut sebuah komputer lelet demi bisa membuka laman facebook secara bergantian. Rindu bapak tua beruban yang dengan rajin meretas sandi dari majalah tanaman dan koran.
Dunia kami seakan ikut roboh ketika perpustakaan kecil itu dihancurkan dan dibangun ulang di sisi lain bekas taman. Layaknya harapan kami yang turut pupus dan hangus bersamaan dengan mimpi-mimpi kami yang tersisih dari mimpi-mimpi orang lain. Sekarang hanya pohon kecubung yang belum dibabat yang menjadi penanda teritori sisa-sisa nyawa imajinasi kami. Perubahan adalah bagian tak terpisahkan dari peradaban. Perubahan adalah konsekuensi dari hukum alam. Tapi apalah daya kami, manusia yang terjerat nostalgia. Manusia yang bermukim di masa lalu dan enggan pindah. Manusia yang menerawang masa depan sebagai ancaman.
Nonexistence banged inaudibly Sparked matter and energy The Universe is a boundless void filled with pulsing things Stars, dwarfs, holes, life But life itself bears no meaning
Reach for the stars they say Ignorant of depth Confined outside the realm of contemplation Hence to mention they forgot The light will blind you and ignite you Into smoke, ashes, dusts floating in vacuum
Exist or don't, doesn't matter The Earth revolves around the Sun Moon around the Earth Supernovas, quiet explosion inside the sphere Fiery, expanding Contracting, refueling, holding on to being Nothing can escape gravity Still
But where IS you? Ceased into phantom Stuck in a train Where eternal nothingness is the final destination Your values receding from memories Leaving no trace Ad nihilum
You weren't, you were, but you're no longer are Emerging from nothingness Only to fill the void with more emptiness And time flies in circles Our boundless void shrinking Back to nonexistence Or toward oblivion
Like a bird losing its feathers A phoenix drown in its own ashes A moving corpse, infected Howling to the call of demons Dancing through the raging flames Enlightened mind, inflicted
Under the silver umbrella Keeping the shadows underneath All rays reflected A stranded Cinderella Once a belle, now losing her teeth Merely deluded
Dreaming to fly up above the sky As stones sink in the water Days are lacking surprise Flares and smokes drifting high As feet glide on the butter Dead at nights unable to rise
Tangled up in her lies Reality deceives her eyes A dead end with two turns
One's high the other's low One's wild the other's tired Rumbling voices and echoes Visions and terrors wired
There's an itch inside my soul I want to get rid of Not knowing how Wondering whom to ask for time
I've been sitting here half frozen For the reach of your hands Waiting desperatey For grace to be bestowed upon me
This sharp edge may numb this madness Its shiny brand new steel drawing narrow red line Across the soft coating of this beast Will you let me? Will you come for me?
Time is ticking Tik tok The sound of the clock Crying out loud
Before it's midnight Before the answer is locked Will you send the messenger to pick me up just in time? Illuminate me til' my eyes blind And I'll follow wherever it entails
These strings attached to my veins been pulling my guts out Tried to murmur prayers with lips tightly closed Let the blade cut through the interwoven chaos Resolving the war raging since the birth of the idol Once and for all
But the streams down the red river won't wash away guilt An instant bang behind closed door lead to burning flames
Are you there? It's not time for hide and seek The worms are getting closer They're coming Hunting mortal souls like marching soldiers You've promised me a mansion above the clouds if I'm willing to adore you
Am I the one who strays? Am I the one who puts a million miles distance in between? Or did you leave me nowhere to be found? Did you build a thick wall with million bricks?
I've carved your name over and over When the letter fades I start over using the ink I've got left After all, I'm not all out of mine
Yet you surround me with silence I can't feel your presence only pain Is it true you're dead?
My mind has sailed away My heart won't let you go, still Just make a noise Spit out a name And I'll throw the weapon on the ground I'll walk in yellow for the days to come
There he was. The skinny old man who seemed to be stuck in his own head. Sitting behind a pile of magazines and newspapers. His eyes were focused on the pages in front of him. His hands were always ready to take notes. Those were his routines. He did the same thing over and over every single day in the library. I couldn’t help but to let my curiosity grow.
So one day I gathered up my courage. I finally asked him a simple question: why do you go to the public library everyday, despite your age?His answer shocked me to my core, it was way way beyond my expectation. Thus he replied: It’s a matter of life and death.
For a minute there, I thought he wasn’t serious. But the expression on his face did not say so. He was being very serious. Then he continued, he was so willingly telling me his life story. I listened to his story very carefully, I didn’t want to miss anything.
To me he was a very kind, friendly and interesting person. Too bad, since the library was closed for renovation I never saw him anymore. And he inspired me to writethis.
Mr. Magazine It's been a while Let me check your breathing Your heart pounds like a ticking bomb
Paranoia's been your only company Though you walk every inch of this town solo You never feel lonely There's always somewhere to go
Married to your fear Switching between reality and your imaginings
Oh no, they put poison in my coffee Saint Peter, please let me be I'm just a nobody Not knowing honesty will ever harm me
Mr. Magazine Piling monthly Trubus magazines up like dirty laundries Deciphering every single letter on the newspaper Show your ID They'll let you press "copy"
Turning left, turning right Getting lost in your own misery The eyes are watching Run for your own safety
You drown in your sweat Your eyes twitching Your mind keeps talking
O Big Brother, have mercy! New Order won't let me flee No wife, no children, no family I barely keep my sanity
Mr. Magazine Aren't you tired? Living in constant fear I can take you somewhere nice A safe and quiet place underground
Hold my hand, Mr. Magazine Say goodbye to the day The night won't bite Leave everything behind We're traveling light tonight
Tulisan ini terinspirasi oleh seorang lelaki tua yang kerap saya temui sedang berkeliaran di jalan pemuda Kota Muntilan. Dulu, beliau sering duduk di emperan sebuah toko di samping jalan masuk menuju Pasar Jambu, Muntilan. Bagi saya sosoknya sangat menarik untuk diamati. Biasanya beliau hanya duduk termenung sambil sesekali mengisap rokok. Tampilannya mirip gelandangan tapi cukup rapi untuk seorang gelandangan apalagi orang gila. Setiap kali saya melewati jalan itu, saya penasaran dengan apa yang tengah dipikirkan beliau. Di mata saya beliau adalah salah satu manusia eksentrik yang menghiasi sudut-sudut kota Muntilan.
This writing was inspired by this eccentric old man that I often encountered in the streets of Muntilan.
Hey, the old man carrying a duffle bag I've been watching you roaming these streets With your gray hair hanging low on your shoulder Smoking at the corner of an alley Counting the numbers floating in the air I'm calling you from the back of my eyes
Tell me, is it really worth it? Why should I care at all? When no one else ever does Walking like a prophet Healing these wounded lambs While it's my own heart that bleeds And my feet taking me places I don't belong
Hey, the old man carrying a secondhand backpack I see you sitting at the porch of an abandoned store Drinking from a plastic bottle you found on the streets With your sight fixated on your daydreams Can you tell? I'm screaming out my ennui without making any vibration For no pair of ears can sense my turmoils
Preach me, they say the hymn of the heavenly can lift my sunken tomorrow Soothe me with the wisdom that you hide inside your chords Do you think there's ever a silver lining? I hear you trade a warm fireplace for a freezing peace My soul's been yearning for a spot in what you call home
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