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| AAHHHHH. Production is finally done! Yes, after months of bitchin', fear, arguments, panic attacks, my first ever Indonesian produced short film is finished shooting. Now that all the puzzles have been flipped up, it's time to put them pieces together, and figure out what I have. Being the ultimate pessimist, I hate to built expectations on my finished product. I hate to be disappointed. Yet somehow I feel it in me, strongly, that this one's gonna be okay. Despite whatever accolades, festivals, or awards it will or won't achieve, this one is my most special yet, and I would still love it to death.
(my baby)
Thanks to my short film, I didn't really get the chance to fully spend time with my partner in crime, who was visiting Jakarta for a couple of weeks. But during those days that we were together, I truly found out how much I've missed him. We, like the Gastineau Girls, speak the same language. Of course, these days he would claim to have invented and introduced the low-calorie Vodka Tonic (in fact, I introduced it to him a couple of years ago). But I still love him, solely because he would squeal once I put Kelly Clarkson on the stereo. And we would belt out Mimi together shamelessly, half drunk. We understand each other without having to say anything. And that, my darlings, is what true friend is all about. I miss him, and I hope he had a great time in Jakarta. I tried to show him how special this city was, because we were together this time, to explore this insane, thrilling, poluted place.
(a pair of kucing)
"Kucing", or Cat, is a slang term for gigolos in Indo. No idea how that one came about, but I certainly felt like one a week ago, when I sunbathed with Edward at a super-chic pool on top of a spa building in Kemang, the Beverly Hills of Jakarta. The place was empty, empty, empty...I mean, who else would sunbathe and swim on a Friday afternoon during lunch hour? This was all Ed's idea, of course, as he enthusiastically put on his bright, screaming red, Prada-esque speedo. We dipped in the cold, cold pool, and puffed our Marlboros, when a gross, wrinkled, dark-skinned security guy peeked at us hungrily through the looking glass. He would then pass us by and asked revolting, sexually-harrassing questions like, "Would you like a drink?" I admit that sometimes I stare back at him, only to get a response. And boy...how his deep eyes would look back at mine....
What's worse, is.... when I was about to shower, I realized the place didn't offer any soaps. Whatever. But Edward had to, HAD to, come up to the security guard and asked for soap. Actually, he DEMANDED. After a lot of arguments with the pool attendants, the security guard then came up to us, with his dirty, dirty, dirty look, and said, "You could use MY soap." Ewwwwwww!
Anyway....I felt so cheap afterwards. I cleaned up (without soap), put on my clothes, and just as I was about to leave, he stared at me one more time, beggingly, while listening to a PINK MP3 player.
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| My friend went to Bangkok for vacation. He danced with a guy one night, then brought him home. They had sex. The next day the guy told my friend, "I Love You" ("Shan Rak Khun" in Thai).
Jakarta. I got drunk in a bar, brought a guy home, had sex with him. The next day, I got 5 text messages and 2 phone calls from him. He'd ask questions like, "What did u eat today?" or "What time did u shower?" He also asked me if I wanted to go with him to his best friend's relative's funeral.
One week later, after daily, somewhat religious messages such as "God bless.... Glad we met", I decided not to reply to ONE text message of his that said, "Hope you have a good day." He called five hours later, demanded an explanation.
These seriously damaged, emotionally codependent people are diagnosed with what I call the Southeast Asian Flu. The sad fact is, it's everywhere, and there's no cure...
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| There is a lot of sex in HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE. None of them 16 year old wizards are virgins; Harry had a wet dream, Ron Weasley banged a girl for a rebound. His sister Ginny is a fox, while Hermione has a fetish for Quidditch players. Let's hope she might also do something else with those books. Their hormones are raging, and I couldn't really keep track on who's bonking who. One thing's for sure...this sixth book of a seven-part installment is Ms. Rowling's darkest, most somber, and epic of it all. At 7 in the morning my eyes were wet, exhausted, and my heart sank. Someone did die, and it's no more turning back. The book is expository, but it is a harrowing character study...both Harry and Voldermort's painful search of a father figure... the danger of love, and the incapacity to love. I did some reading afterwards and found out that Rowling herself had an estranged relationship with her own dad. I guess the richest woman in Britain is using the most popular fantasy novels of all time to finally deal with her own shit. | | |
| Historic night.
It's Saturday, 4:19 am, and my Indo bed is FINALLY no more a virgin! Brought home a guy tonight, mommy sleepin' next door, was SUPER drunk.........still am! Love it! Four more hours to Harry Potter 6....
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| I was printing proposals for my new short film, frustratingly, when a friend (whose printer I hijacked), popped the question, "So why are you doing this film?" It was then, apart from my ambition to get the top-paid actor, the French New Wave homage, the 1960s setting and costumes, the make-up and Twiggy hair.... when i realized I did not really know. I forgot about that day when I woke up and decided to write this story. What was I thinking?
At two AM I was having coffee with my actress. We were both tired, and refused to work. I was on a low point... I was bored, annoyed, almost gave up. We started chatting nonsense, from our sex lives (what sex life?) to our love lives. Slowly the conversation turned to something more serious... the history of her great love. That one man who is just too big for her. The guy who made her...the guy who she is still love, and possibly will always love. The one guy who she just cannot be together with.
Seriously...it was moving. It was sincere. It was that moment I finally understood who she is. Suddenly I felt good, because now I know, that I do not need the perfect tweed jacket, or the right eye shadow. I need her, on screen, as this woman...the woman she was tonight. And if the audience was there, in the coffee house tonight, they'd fall in love with her, and they would understand the core, the crust, of this film I am making.
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