"Dia Diam Dalam Tariannya" - Blue Star
The Beatles With Tony Sheridan: Beatles Pop-Hamburg Day
Buku ini segede-gede televisi 14 inchi. Dan aku senang sekali bukan kepalang karena memilikinya :)
Senin, 08 Juli 2013
Jumat, 05 Juli 2013
when dreams was faded, i remain silent
When I was a kid, I used to think that all the shimmering rocks in these earth was the family of stars, sun and moon above the sky. they just got trapped here on the earth. Just like what we always seen in Armageddon movie. Space's falling long long time ago. I was mesmerize, I thought even skies didn't have that much of stars. the riches star was right under my feet. I walk on the stars, I cried suddenly!
Briefly smitten by the all shimmering stars lay on the land of earth. Sometimes I was dancing because i can't control my mind. I was too happy for having those shimmering rocks. I even think that i was so big and there must be an alien watching me happily dancing to celebrating me as the god of my own fantasy.
But then i get down, my teacher telling us the truth. He said that shimmering stars are the genuine rocks got shimmering by the reflection of the lamps, sun and the moon solely. My heart is broken. I cursed the knowledge after that.
It took approximately a month to get recovered again. I try to accept the truth and face it with gentleness. So i did. the rest of my childhood i dedicated for the obvious knowledge, arranged by the institutional education or simply a syllabus. I learned everything my teacher said, i believe to them. Besides my mama told me so, that i have to obey the teachers.
Don't expected me being a special one afterward. Particularly a god anymore. No i realized i wasn't. Otherwise i was the dwarf, so little, and powerless. Syllabus had ruined my childhood and all the fantasy beneath my heart. I was becoming introvert, so solitude and kinda comfortable with that loneliness. That state of mine stayed until now. I can fake sometimes, that easy. But it might drained my energy after that. But that's oke, i'd rather be stranger to myself than being the stranger in majority.
The rest of my life i served as a human, a citizen particularly . Committed to do what common people do, compromising to the tradition, abide to the law of the hierarchy. Though I admitted still robbing up the fantasy things just to having me back sometimes. Most of the times are save by the music. I love to get lost from this universe by the transcendental feeling.
Now I had been through so many experiences, reading, and writing. I can say that i've been through half of the knowledge and the bulshit things they teaches me. I realized that there must be a place somewhere somehow that i can be freely being totally me. Without having problem with other people. Aren't we all having different taste of music, different taste of food, different thought about the politics, and whatsoever? Can we just deal to that differentiation rather than forced it as one? Why can't we people keeping our own fantasy and creating it into something without having
Briefly smitten by the all shimmering stars lay on the land of earth. Sometimes I was dancing because i can't control my mind. I was too happy for having those shimmering rocks. I even think that i was so big and there must be an alien watching me happily dancing to celebrating me as the god of my own fantasy.
But then i get down, my teacher telling us the truth. He said that shimmering stars are the genuine rocks got shimmering by the reflection of the lamps, sun and the moon solely. My heart is broken. I cursed the knowledge after that.
It took approximately a month to get recovered again. I try to accept the truth and face it with gentleness. So i did. the rest of my childhood i dedicated for the obvious knowledge, arranged by the institutional education or simply a syllabus. I learned everything my teacher said, i believe to them. Besides my mama told me so, that i have to obey the teachers.
Don't expected me being a special one afterward. Particularly a god anymore. No i realized i wasn't. Otherwise i was the dwarf, so little, and powerless. Syllabus had ruined my childhood and all the fantasy beneath my heart. I was becoming introvert, so solitude and kinda comfortable with that loneliness. That state of mine stayed until now. I can fake sometimes, that easy. But it might drained my energy after that. But that's oke, i'd rather be stranger to myself than being the stranger in majority.
The rest of my life i served as a human, a citizen particularly . Committed to do what common people do, compromising to the tradition, abide to the law of the hierarchy. Though I admitted still robbing up the fantasy things just to having me back sometimes. Most of the times are save by the music. I love to get lost from this universe by the transcendental feeling.
Now I had been through so many experiences, reading, and writing. I can say that i've been through half of the knowledge and the bulshit things they teaches me. I realized that there must be a place somewhere somehow that i can be freely being totally me. Without having problem with other people. Aren't we all having different taste of music, different taste of food, different thought about the politics, and whatsoever? Can we just deal to that differentiation rather than forced it as one? Why can't we people keeping our own fantasy and creating it into something without having
Kamis, 04 Juli 2013
Total Eclipse. A love story between Arthur Rimbaud and his boyfriend, Paul Verlaine.
In 1871 a 16 year old French poet, Arthur Rimbaud send a
letter to Paul Verlaine with aims that he would help him publishing his poems
book. Verlaine was very excited to invite Rimbaud to come to Paris after done reading
his two poems. He also allowed Rimbaud to stay in his father in law’s house
with him and his pregnant young wife.
Rimbaud was a rude, annoying, and obscene kid. So no one at
that house likes him very much. Mathilda, Verlaine’s wife warning Verlaine to
not easily distracted by this boy. She afraid that Rimbaud will become a dynamite
someday and triggering the devastated of her family. Particularly because
Verlaine drunk habit after he lost his job. Mathilda anticipation was right. Eventually
Rimbaud and Verlaine relationship rose to a very intimate, even so close as a
romantic relationship.
Verlaine had a vision about Rimbaud to become his soul mate.
He can clearly see that this kid was different from the other kid, even to his
18 year old wife. And so did Rimbaud attract to Verlaine as well. He thought
that he can fit one another to create a masterpiece of poems. Rimbaud seduces
Verlaine through his intelligence, genius, and spontaneous side that he can’t
get from his wife. When Matilda soon realized about this homosexuality relationship,
she threaten Verlaine with asking a divorce. Alas he can’t leave Rimbaud and
choose to divorce with Matilda.
Although the movie hasn't clearly depicted of Rimbaud poems itself,
but overall the story is good. I found that the relationship between Rimbaud
and Verlaine, though tragic was also very natural. They respected each other,
and understanding about their hunger to the honest, vulgar, and obscene poems that
no one would dare to write it yet at that time.
Besides that, the young Leonardo DiCaprio act was so
outstanding. You might often see his roles as a playboy, a maniac, a smart guy
or even a smart ass person. But in this movie is different. You are pleased to
see his naked and making love with an older guy. What I presumed will mark the
Total Eclipse as an important movie to watch. Otherwise of course to fulfill
our curiosity about the life of the eminent prefigured surrealism poems, Arthur
Rimbaud.
PS: My favorites quotes from this film is..
“Love...no such thing.
PS: My favorites quotes from this film is..
“Love...no such thing.
Whatever it is that binds families and married couples together, that's not love. That's stupidity or selfishness or fear. Love doesn't exist.
Self interest exists, attachment based on personal gain exists, complacency exists. But not love. Love has to be reinvented, that’s certain.”
Does it matters?
I don't have any idea if it is really good for me or whether it is not to let myself sink in this internet. really, i think that this web is such a great world that contains everything that I needed. That every web that linked to another link has something like the butterfly effects and makes me feel like I don't need to go outside to find out all the information so much better than what I've found in the internet. Which I can be more solitude and forget how to communicate with the real human. not only with the human through the internet.
Rabu, 03 Juli 2013
Blake!
“…excuse my enthusiasm or rather madness, for I am really drunk with intellectual vision whenever I take a pencil or graver into my hand.” ― William Blake, William Blake
Rimbaud!
“My turn now. The story of one of my insanities.
For a long time I boasted that I was master of all possible landscapes-- and I thought the great figures of modern painting and poetry were laughable.
What I liked were: absurd paintings, pictures over doorways, stage sets, carnival backdrops, billboards, bright-colored prints, old-fashioned literature, church Latin, erotic books full of misspellings, the kind of novels our grandmothers read, fairy tales, little children's books, old operas, silly old songs, the naive rhythms of country rimes.
I dreamed of Crusades, voyages of discovery that nobody had heard of, republics without histories, religious wars stamped out, revolutions in morals, movements of races and continents; I used to believe in every kind of magic.
I invented colors for the vowels! A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green. I made rules for the form and movement of every consonant, and I boasted of inventing, with rhythms from within me, a kind of poetry that all the senses, sooner or later, would recognize. And I alone would be its translator.
I began it as an investigation. I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.” ― Arthur Rimbaud
For a long time I boasted that I was master of all possible landscapes-- and I thought the great figures of modern painting and poetry were laughable.
What I liked were: absurd paintings, pictures over doorways, stage sets, carnival backdrops, billboards, bright-colored prints, old-fashioned literature, church Latin, erotic books full of misspellings, the kind of novels our grandmothers read, fairy tales, little children's books, old operas, silly old songs, the naive rhythms of country rimes.
I dreamed of Crusades, voyages of discovery that nobody had heard of, republics without histories, religious wars stamped out, revolutions in morals, movements of races and continents; I used to believe in every kind of magic.
I invented colors for the vowels! A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green. I made rules for the form and movement of every consonant, and I boasted of inventing, with rhythms from within me, a kind of poetry that all the senses, sooner or later, would recognize. And I alone would be its translator.
I began it as an investigation. I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.” ― Arthur Rimbaud
Holy Ginsberg
“Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand
and asshole holy!
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an
angel!
The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is
holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is
holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas-
sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering
beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the cocks
of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop
apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana
hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy
the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the
mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the
middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell-
ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria &
Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the
locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina-
tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
kindness of the soul!”
― Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand
and asshole holy!
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an
angel!
The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is
holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is
holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas-
sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering
beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the cocks
of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop
apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana
hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy
the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the
mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the
middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell-
ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria &
Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the
locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina-
tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
kindness of the soul!”
― Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems
Selasa, 02 Juli 2013
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