The notch in your bedpost.
People come, People go, people forget. What was that city’s name again? You know, the one as chaotic as Bangkok only uglier trannies?
The going going gone.
Everything is fast forwarded. Turtles die, rabits triumphed. Finders’ keepers, you snooze you loose, time’s more precious than money. Tick tock TICK TOCK.
The please forget me not, please.
Really friggin’ desperate for some appreciation here. I mean helloooo I got lights, I got Louis Vuitton, I got shiny fast cars, I got kids starving to death begging in the middle of a pouring rain, don’t I at least deserve some credit?
The gold maker life ruiner.
The centre of opportunities indeed. Just don’t cry regretting over your lost life when you’re in the middle of it. I warned you!
The over dignified whore.
I can’t afford to look cheap! Gotta put some more make up on so more and more human beings will get attracted to my fabricated beauty!! Hm where’s my botox shot?
The I’m the new NY yo, only hotter. Literally.
I mean I realize that at least NY got winter. But hey, I’m sexy I’m hot, I’m everything you’re not! ;)
The bully.
Fuck those poor small cities ya’ll, I can easily crush ‘em all with my gigantic power and wealth. After all, I’m such a pro on luring those wealthy executives to triple their money on my fat money stuffed belly.
The obese.
Population of 12 million by day and 8 million by night. Whew, I’m still starving nevertheless. Delivery please!
The why the fuck am I not in the center of the stage! Oh I am already? Then why the fuck isn’t the spotlight pointed at me! Oh it is already?
I feed on attention. Yeah look at me world, I can put my whole fist into my mouth YAY!
The inside of Barbie’s head.
Empty. No brainer. Brains are only for hideous looking people so they’ll find something to feel good about. Nuh-uh. Too sexy for that.
The life guru.
I teach patience. If you don’t have enough patience living here, you’ll end up either crazy or die a premature death, which will be caused either by craziness, heart-attack, or suicide. YEAH FINALLY I HAVE SOMETHING DELIGHTFUL TO BOAST ABOUT!!!
Boy do I love trashing Jakarta...
Showing posts with label a dumpster smells better than jakarta. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a dumpster smells better than jakarta. Show all posts
Monday, November 2, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
5 reason why i should get the heck outta this city.
1. Sanity is crucial. I once read a book entitled Cala Ibi by one of Indonesia’s most prolific contemporary writers, Nukila Amal, and there was this one special chapter dedicated to Jakarta.
One passage reads: “Ini kota duka. Bisa membuat orang gila.”
(This is the city of grief. It can drive people crazy)
Another one: “Pernah ada penelitian tentang kewarasan manusia Jakarta. Tiga dari lima manusianya terganggu mental. Itu mengkhawatirkanku. Tiga dari lima siapapun manusia yang berpapasan denganku berpotensi menjelma orang gila.”
(There was a research about the sanity of Jakartans. Three out of five of its citizens are mentally disturbed. That worries me. Three out of five people I meet has the potential to turn into a lunatic)
And another one: “Ini kota yang menyebarkan energi negatif. Dan paranoia, menjadi insting paling primitif.”
(This city channels negative energy. And paranoia, becomes the most primal instinct)
Also, I found an article on Sunday Jakarta Post this morning (August 16/09), in the streetsmart column by Kartika Jahja, entitled Schizophrenic City. “Jakarta, being the city that it is, undoubtedly offers moist soil for mental illnesses to flourish in. Jobs are scarce, people are predators, living is expensive, and commuting is a daily battle.” Damn right. And her friend was right too, that “Jakarta should have more mental facilities than malls.” But then again, “The malls are mental facilities. They just don’t know it.” Big fat LOL.
I know that dying from Schizophrenia is far from possible, but I can just picture my funeral if say, my cause of death was mental illness.
Some guy/girl: Oh this is very sad, how did she die?
A friend: Lunacy killed her.
Some guy/girl: *confused* Luna-who?
A friend: She spent most of her life in Jakarta.
Some guy/girl: (with a look of comprehension) Ahh, no wonder...
That gets me scared shitless, when madness in Jakarta gradually becomes a normal daily sight.
2. Time is money. Not in here, apparently. Time means spending valuable seconds on road, getting dead stuck in some everlasting traffic jam. I did my calculations. On a normal basis, if you lived in Jakarta for all your lifetime, and you lived for 70 years, you would spend 8 bloody years on traffic. That is: 4 hours per day = 1460 hours per year = (say you have about 50 productive years) 73000 in total, which calculates to 8.3 years. EIGHT POINT THREE YEARS OF YOUR LIFE you spend from the inside of your car, grumpily complaining how chaotic the traffic is, grumpily wondering when your car is finally going to move, grumpily turning the inside of your brain into a massive soggy lump of absurd dullness. Imagine what you can do with those 8 years. You can go around the globe, relaxing weed-smoking deer-hunting adventure-craving spirituality-cleansing. You can pursue your lifelong dreams, cure cancer become a president invent talking trees be successfully happy. Or you can just simply enjoy life.
In case I was exaggerating, I told my mom about my calculations. Her response was, “No, you’re wrong. I read the official statistic on the internet once, and it’s actually 15 years more or less.” Now you see what I’m talking about?
3. Hypocrisy prevails. You take one upper class mall in Jakarta, get into one of the branded or semi-branded shops you can find, and there you will find a tank top costs near 1 million rupiah. And people who actually buy it. Don’t get me wrong, of course they do that in other countries too, like America. But have you realized that America is one of the countries with the most powerful economics in the world, and we live in one of the most economically under-developed countries on earth? In Jakarta we own most of the richest people in Indonesia, but when you take a little peek under the freeway bridge, you’ll find some of the most degraded, rejected, underprivileged citizens Indonesia can ever offer. The thing that the haves mostly don’t realize is that 20% of the richest people in Jakarta own about 70% of the city’s wealth, which leaves the rest 80% of its citizen with a mere 30%. And I’m not even going to talk about corruption and the power of capitalism, which makes the rich richer and the poor poorer. So when you buy that 1 million rupiah tank top, where exactly is your shame? One thing straight, I don’t want to live in a city where its citizens have no shame! Drives me nuts...
4. To volunteer in minimizing Jakarta’s excessive population. 8 million at night, 12 million at noon working hours. With an infrastructure this bad, how is that not excessive? Every one of them equally too desperate to leave, thinking that this city offers anything they’d ever wanted. And I’m not going to deny that alright, you can find everything here; it’s a goddamn luxurious paradise. With the increasing numbers of newcomers each year, apparently some need to do a bit of volunteering just to keep the population balanced, and I am indefinitely more than pleasured to be that sacrificial lamb.
5. Last but not least, I sweat like a pig here. I know this is a tropical country, and it is supposed to be hot and all, but this is just absurd! In Jakarta you don’t get only the heat from the sun, but also from the traffic pollution, the air-conditioner which blows hot wind outside of your house, the reflected sunrays from the windows of a skyscraper onto another, the rigorous breath of the 20 million living objects. If this keeps going on, in 2030 we’d be nothing but a bunch of slow-cooked meats on a gigantic cauldron. I can’t live well under this unbearable heat, especially when it’s not the kind of breezy heat you get in beaches either. I can’t think, I can’t feel, I complain all the time, I spend fortune on sunscreens, all I want to do is just stick my head in the freezer and pretend I’m on a vacation in Alaska. FYI, if you are wondering what gives me the right to complain about the heat since it’s just the way it is, I actually do my share not to make hell hotter than it already is. I don’t use aircon in my room, I recycle used papers for printing, my family very rarely ever buys frozen food, and I take public transport 60% of the time, even though God only knows how much I hate it. Eat that.
So there goes. Whoever reads this, please do not hesitate to give me a reason why I should love living in Jakarta; then maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider staying. Who knows?
Call me an escapist, but that’s still not going to prevent me from trying to be happy.
One passage reads: “Ini kota duka. Bisa membuat orang gila.”
(This is the city of grief. It can drive people crazy)
Another one: “Pernah ada penelitian tentang kewarasan manusia Jakarta. Tiga dari lima manusianya terganggu mental. Itu mengkhawatirkanku. Tiga dari lima siapapun manusia yang berpapasan denganku berpotensi menjelma orang gila.”
(There was a research about the sanity of Jakartans. Three out of five of its citizens are mentally disturbed. That worries me. Three out of five people I meet has the potential to turn into a lunatic)
And another one: “Ini kota yang menyebarkan energi negatif. Dan paranoia, menjadi insting paling primitif.”
(This city channels negative energy. And paranoia, becomes the most primal instinct)
Also, I found an article on Sunday Jakarta Post this morning (August 16/09), in the streetsmart column by Kartika Jahja, entitled Schizophrenic City. “Jakarta, being the city that it is, undoubtedly offers moist soil for mental illnesses to flourish in. Jobs are scarce, people are predators, living is expensive, and commuting is a daily battle.” Damn right. And her friend was right too, that “Jakarta should have more mental facilities than malls.” But then again, “The malls are mental facilities. They just don’t know it.” Big fat LOL.
I know that dying from Schizophrenia is far from possible, but I can just picture my funeral if say, my cause of death was mental illness.
Some guy/girl: Oh this is very sad, how did she die?
A friend: Lunacy killed her.
Some guy/girl: *confused* Luna-who?
A friend: She spent most of her life in Jakarta.
Some guy/girl: (with a look of comprehension) Ahh, no wonder...
That gets me scared shitless, when madness in Jakarta gradually becomes a normal daily sight.
2. Time is money. Not in here, apparently. Time means spending valuable seconds on road, getting dead stuck in some everlasting traffic jam. I did my calculations. On a normal basis, if you lived in Jakarta for all your lifetime, and you lived for 70 years, you would spend 8 bloody years on traffic. That is: 4 hours per day = 1460 hours per year = (say you have about 50 productive years) 73000 in total, which calculates to 8.3 years. EIGHT POINT THREE YEARS OF YOUR LIFE you spend from the inside of your car, grumpily complaining how chaotic the traffic is, grumpily wondering when your car is finally going to move, grumpily turning the inside of your brain into a massive soggy lump of absurd dullness. Imagine what you can do with those 8 years. You can go around the globe, relaxing weed-smoking deer-hunting adventure-craving spirituality-cleansing. You can pursue your lifelong dreams, cure cancer become a president invent talking trees be successfully happy. Or you can just simply enjoy life.
In case I was exaggerating, I told my mom about my calculations. Her response was, “No, you’re wrong. I read the official statistic on the internet once, and it’s actually 15 years more or less.” Now you see what I’m talking about?
3. Hypocrisy prevails. You take one upper class mall in Jakarta, get into one of the branded or semi-branded shops you can find, and there you will find a tank top costs near 1 million rupiah. And people who actually buy it. Don’t get me wrong, of course they do that in other countries too, like America. But have you realized that America is one of the countries with the most powerful economics in the world, and we live in one of the most economically under-developed countries on earth? In Jakarta we own most of the richest people in Indonesia, but when you take a little peek under the freeway bridge, you’ll find some of the most degraded, rejected, underprivileged citizens Indonesia can ever offer. The thing that the haves mostly don’t realize is that 20% of the richest people in Jakarta own about 70% of the city’s wealth, which leaves the rest 80% of its citizen with a mere 30%. And I’m not even going to talk about corruption and the power of capitalism, which makes the rich richer and the poor poorer. So when you buy that 1 million rupiah tank top, where exactly is your shame? One thing straight, I don’t want to live in a city where its citizens have no shame! Drives me nuts...
4. To volunteer in minimizing Jakarta’s excessive population. 8 million at night, 12 million at noon working hours. With an infrastructure this bad, how is that not excessive? Every one of them equally too desperate to leave, thinking that this city offers anything they’d ever wanted. And I’m not going to deny that alright, you can find everything here; it’s a goddamn luxurious paradise. With the increasing numbers of newcomers each year, apparently some need to do a bit of volunteering just to keep the population balanced, and I am indefinitely more than pleasured to be that sacrificial lamb.
5. Last but not least, I sweat like a pig here. I know this is a tropical country, and it is supposed to be hot and all, but this is just absurd! In Jakarta you don’t get only the heat from the sun, but also from the traffic pollution, the air-conditioner which blows hot wind outside of your house, the reflected sunrays from the windows of a skyscraper onto another, the rigorous breath of the 20 million living objects. If this keeps going on, in 2030 we’d be nothing but a bunch of slow-cooked meats on a gigantic cauldron. I can’t live well under this unbearable heat, especially when it’s not the kind of breezy heat you get in beaches either. I can’t think, I can’t feel, I complain all the time, I spend fortune on sunscreens, all I want to do is just stick my head in the freezer and pretend I’m on a vacation in Alaska. FYI, if you are wondering what gives me the right to complain about the heat since it’s just the way it is, I actually do my share not to make hell hotter than it already is. I don’t use aircon in my room, I recycle used papers for printing, my family very rarely ever buys frozen food, and I take public transport 60% of the time, even though God only knows how much I hate it. Eat that.
So there goes. Whoever reads this, please do not hesitate to give me a reason why I should love living in Jakarta; then maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider staying. Who knows?
Call me an escapist, but that’s still not going to prevent me from trying to be happy.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The city of the blessed... Or the damned??
Jakarta is like a two-faced, backtabbing whore. It's like a grotesque version of Regina George. It is indeed the "queen bee" of Indonesia: Every other cities try to be like it, competing each other to reach the most modern technology or the latest cutting-edge trend. Of course, Jakarta is far too unreachable for them, her own face had been retouched and remodelled countless times with layers of botox that it's barely possible to reveal her true self anymore.
On one side, you can indulge yourself in the fabulous taste of luxury, the pleasure of being able to get anything you want. You name it: Latest fashion lines by world's famous designers, high-end restaurants serving food from all over the world, nightclubs ranging from sleazy to glamorous, over-indulgent spa boutiques that treat your body like gold, a shot of western lifestyle here and there. Every day a new plan to repaint Jakarta might be constructed, proofed by the growing number of glittery malls and other entertainment centers, which mostly could only be enjoyed when you have a thick wallet. Money does seem to make Jakarta go round and rooouuuuund...
With its flirtatiously promising manner, Jakarta lured 12 million people in search of happiness. Suburbans who are not happy with their little-income jobs as farmers or labour-workers came to Jakarta with nothing but hope for a better fortune, based on the thousand opportunities the city believed to offer. And where do most of them end up now? Below the conspicuous highways which hold the weight of millions of shiny, flamboyant cars passing nonchalantly every day, living in weathered cardboard houses and feeding off on less than $2 a day. Indeed, Jakarta's riches practically sway on top while the poors crawl around at the bottom.
Jakarta had turned its fake, plastic face on its believers. It is capable of lying without a tongue to speak, betraying without a heart to feel, knocking people over without eyes to see. And at night, not even one star is visible through the heavy combination of polluted grim and blinding city lights that suffocate the air.
On one side, you can indulge yourself in the fabulous taste of luxury, the pleasure of being able to get anything you want. You name it: Latest fashion lines by world's famous designers, high-end restaurants serving food from all over the world, nightclubs ranging from sleazy to glamorous, over-indulgent spa boutiques that treat your body like gold, a shot of western lifestyle here and there. Every day a new plan to repaint Jakarta might be constructed, proofed by the growing number of glittery malls and other entertainment centers, which mostly could only be enjoyed when you have a thick wallet. Money does seem to make Jakarta go round and rooouuuuund...
With its flirtatiously promising manner, Jakarta lured 12 million people in search of happiness. Suburbans who are not happy with their little-income jobs as farmers or labour-workers came to Jakarta with nothing but hope for a better fortune, based on the thousand opportunities the city believed to offer. And where do most of them end up now? Below the conspicuous highways which hold the weight of millions of shiny, flamboyant cars passing nonchalantly every day, living in weathered cardboard houses and feeding off on less than $2 a day. Indeed, Jakarta's riches practically sway on top while the poors crawl around at the bottom.
Jakarta had turned its fake, plastic face on its believers. It is capable of lying without a tongue to speak, betraying without a heart to feel, knocking people over without eyes to see. And at night, not even one star is visible through the heavy combination of polluted grim and blinding city lights that suffocate the air.
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