Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Man Claims Cow Seduced Him For Sex

waaah...like dat oso can aar?

An 18-year-old Indonesian man says he was seduced by a cow, and that’s why he was having sex with it.

A neighbour caught Gusti Ngurah Alit allegedly wooing the farm animal on Sunday, the village chief on the resort island of Bali said, the Times newspaper in Johannesburg, South Africa reported Friday.

“He was caught by one of the residents standing naked while holding the back of the cow,” village chief Embang Ida Bagus Legawa said in the newspaper.

Alit said he didn’t see an animal, he saw a beautiful young woman.


“She called my name and seduced me, so I had sex with her,” the man told the newspaper.

Alit underwent a cleansing ritual. The village chief gave the owner of the cow the equivalent of $562. The cow was reportedly drowned in the sea to rid the village of bad luck

Monday, November 1, 2010

Sekuntum Cinta


Pertama kali
bersemi di jiwa
oh sungguh indah
mekar mewangi
serikan taman hati
yang selamanya ini
terbiar dalam sepi
sekuntum cinta
tersunting di hati
oh sungguh murni
setiap ketika
bagaikan mimpi indah
bila saja berada bersama

tersedar dari sebuah lamunan
rupanya berbicara sendiri
kehadiran mu dan keindahan
sesingkat sebabak mimpi
sekuntum cinta
layu tiba-tiba
oh sungguh hampa
gugur berkecai
kelopak bunga cinta
kukutip semuanya
untuk kenangan

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Ku Ukir Nama Mu


Ku terpaut sejak pertemuan itu
Hatiku berkata ingin mengenali mu
Setiap malam wajahmu terbayang
Disaksikan sinaran bulan

Titisan hujan bagaikan harapanku
Bintang di langit tak mungkinkan tercapai
Tinggi gunung jadi penghalang
Hasratku oh sayang

Lautan api
Sudah pun kurenangi
Kuukirkan namamu
Di hati yang jadi pujaanku

Gerbang kebahagiaan terpancar indah
Tapi hanya dengan sekelip mata
Sekeping hati yang sudah berpunya
Pergi dan takkan kembali

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Open your Eyes


Look around yourselves
Can’t you see this wonder
Spreaded infront of you
The clouds floating by
The skies are clear and blue
Planets in the orbits
The moon and the sun
Such perfect harmony

Let’s start question in ourselves
Isn’t this proof enough for us
Or are we so blind
To push it all aside..
No..

We just have to
Open our eyes, our hearts, and minds
If we just look bright to see the signs
We can’t keep hiding from the truth
Let it take us by surprise
Take us in the best way
(Allah..)
Guide us every single day..
(Allah..)
Keep us close to You
Until the end of time..

Look inside yourselves
Such a perfect order
Hiding in yourselves
Running in your veins
What about anger love and pain
And all the things you’re feeling
Can you touch them with your hand?
So are they really there?

Lets start question in ourselves
Isn’t this proof enough for us?
Or are we so blind
To push it all aside..?
No..

We just have to
Open our eyes, our hearts, and minds
If we just look bright to see the signs
We can’t keep hiding from the truth
Let it take us by surprise
Take us in the best way
(Allah..)
Guide us every single day..
(Allah..)
Keep us close to You
Until the end of time..

When a baby’s born
So helpless and weak
And you’re watching him growing..
So why deny
Whats in front of your eyes
The biggest miracle of life..

We just have to
Open our eyes, our hearts, and minds
If we just look quiet we’ll see the signs
We can’t keep hiding from the truth
Let it take us by surprise
Take us in the best way
(Allah..)
Guide us every single day..
(Allah..)
Keep us close to You
Until the end of time..

Open your eyes and hearts and minds
If you just look bright to see the signs
We can’t keep hiding from the truth
Let it take us by surprise
Take us in the best way
(Allah..)
Guide us every single day..
(Allah..)
Keep us close to You
Until the end of time..

Allah..
You created everything
We belong to You
Ya Robb we raise our hands
Forever we thank You..
Alhamdulillah..

Thursday, September 23, 2010

J is for Jewel


"You Were Meant For Me"

I hear the clock, it's six a.m.
I feel so far from where I've been
I got my eggs I got my pancakes too
I got my maple syrup, everything but you.
I break the yolks, make a smiley face
I kinda like it in my brand new place
I wipe the spots off the mirror
Don't leave the keys in the door
Never put wet towels on the floor anymore' cause

[Chorus]
Dreams last for so long
even after you're gone
I know you love me
And soon you will see
You were meant for me
And I was meant for you.

I called my momma, she was out for a walk
Consoled a cup of coffee but it didn't wanna talk
So I picked up a paper, it was more bad news
More hearts being broken or people being used
Put on my coat in the pouring rain
I saw a movie it just wasn't the same
'Cause it was happy or I was sad
It made me miss you oh so bad 'cause

[Chorus]

I go about my business, I'm doing fine
Besides what would I say if I had you on the line
Same old story, not much to say
Hearts are broken, everyday.
I brush my teeth and put the cap back on
I know you hate it when I leave the light on
I pick a book up. Turn the sheets down.
And then I take a deep breath and a good look around
Put on my pjs and hop into bed
I'm half alive but I feel mostly dead
I try and tell myself it'll be all right
I just shouldn't think anymore tonight 'cause

[Chorus]

Yeah... You were meant for me and I was meant for you.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Selamat Datang Sayang


Selamat datang sayang
Berlabuh ke pangkuan
Di pintu hatiku telah lama menunggumu

Selamat tiba sayang
Di hari yang gemilang
Kau telah ringankan satu beban penantian

Bersama kebesaran hari yang indah
Datangmu bagai satu hadiah

Selamat datang sayang
Bersama sejahtera
mengisi halaman yang terbiar kesunyian

(*)
Bersyukur menerima segalanya
Menadah dengan hati yang terbuka
Di hari indah ini tiada lagi sepi
Riangku tak terperi
melihat kau di sisi

Di hari mulia kau datang membawa
Sebuah kedamaian di singgahsana
Pintu hati ku terbuka memberi dan menerima
Akulah seadanya tiada pernah berbeza
Selamat datang sayang aku ucapkan….

(ulang *)

Selamat pulang sayang berlabuh ke pangkuan
Kau tiba meringankan satu beban penantian
Selamat datang sayang aku ucapkan….

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Sesat Dalam Rindu


Ku resah mencarimu dengan akal
Dengan bersama sifat-sifat pinjaman
Kau ku rasakan semakin menjauh
Tersesatlah aku dalam rindu mu

Ku satukan firasat mencari mu
Dan ku terlontar di penghujung alam
Kau masih tidak dapat ku jejaki
Betapa malangnya nasib ku

Kerana mu ku tinggalkan segalanya
Sendiri aku terpedaya
Punya akal dan firasat yang tidak ke mana
Hanya jalan yang sengsara

Zahir musnah bagi yang mimpi
Zahir ada rahsia mencari
Lalu ku selami di dalam diri
Dibawa arus nafas ku
Asal serah janji dahulu
Mula hidup pasti mula cinta

Engkau kasih ada di sini
Engkau kasih ada menanti
Kau kasih aku jua kasih

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Segala Cinta


Siapa lagi nak kuserahkan
Tentunya kepada-Mu Tuhanku yang kalam
Segala duka satu keindahan
Segala cinta satu kedamaian

Siapa lagi ingin kumiliki
Setelah memutih warna pelangi
Tiada kejora di langit tinggi
Telah kutahu saat dan ketika

Jikalau dapat kusempurnakan cinta
Di balik tembok usang yang terpisah dan terasing
Jikalau hadirku untuk selamanya
Tidak ada sengsara
Bersenandung... seperti di dalam istana
Oh... bergurau manja
Seolah cinta tidak pernah hilang

Siapa lagi nak kupercayakan
Di balik rindu yang tak terkira
Sengaja kusembunyikan dari mata
Berabadlah selamanya

Jikalau dapat kusempurnakan cintamu kembali
Berseri ke akhirnya oh suci
Jikalau teruji kehadiran ini
Serahkan keindahan kedamaian
Oh... kedamaian, semua (sebuah) cinta

Siapa lagi ingin kumiliki
Setelah semua putih warna pelangi
Tiada kejora di langit yang tinggi
Syukurnya pada-Mu Tuhanku yang kalam
Aku persembahkan oh...

Segala duka satu keindahan
Semua cinta satu kedamaian

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

La Chatte sur un Toit Brûlant


Dans une immense villa du Sud des Etats Unis, une famille se réunit pour fêter l’anniversaire du patriarche malade, ‘Big Daddy’ (Burl Ives). Maggie (Elisabeth Taylor) et Brick (Paul Newman), un couple en pleine crise : Brick est déprimé par le suicide de son meilleur ami Skipper (avec qui il avait probablement une relation sexuelle) et se réfugie dans l’alcool. Maggie, quant à elle, est frustrée car son époux ne veut plus accomplir son devoir conjugal soit disant parce qu’il la considère comme responsable de la mort de son ami.

Lorsqu’elle se compare à ‘une chatte sur un toit brûlant’, Brick lui conseille de sauter et de prendre un amant. Cooper, le frère de Brick (Jack Carson), son épouse hystérique et leurs cinq ‘monstres sans tête’, sont en fait venus pour tenter de s’approprier la majeure partie de l’héritage du père dont ils pressentent la fin prochaine. Cooper va avoir fort à faire pour se mettre dans les ‘petits papiers’ de son père puisque Brick reste le fils préféré de ‘Big Daddy’.

Alors que la famille s’entredéchire, Brick va effectuer un voyage au bout de lui-même, se remettre en question et annoncer à son père ce qu’il ne sait pas encore, sa mort prochaine. Une catharsis collective a lieu avant le retour au calme et, pour sauver les apparences, à la ‘normalité’.



Maggie: Why can't you lose your good looks, Brick? Most drinkin' men lose theirs. Why can't you? I think you've even gotten better-lookin' since you went on the bottle. (As she caresses the brass bedframe) You were such a wonderful lover...You were so excitin' to be in love with. Mostly, I guess, 'cause you were (pause)...If I thought you'd never never make love to me again (pause)...why I'd find me the longest, sharpest knife I could and I'd stick it straight into my heart. I'd do that. Oh Brick, how long does this have to go on? This punishment? Haven't I served my term? Can't I apply for a pardon?

Brick: Lately, that finishin' school voice of yours sounds like you was runnin' upstairs to tell somebody the house is on fire.

Maggie: Is it any wonder? You know what I feel like? I feel all the time like a cat on a hot tin roof.

Brick (offering a solution): Then jump off the roof, Maggie, jump off it. Now cats jump off roofs and they land uninjured. Do it. Jump.

Maggie: Jump where? Into what?

Brick: Take a lover.

Maggie (angrily): I don't deserve that! I can't see any man but you. With my eyes closed, I just see you. Why can't you get ugly Brick? Why can't you please get fat or ugly or somethin' so I can stand it?

Brick: You'll make out fine. Your kind always does.

Maggie: Oh, I'm more determined than you think. I'll win all right.

Brick: Win what? What is, uh, the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof?

Maggie: Just stayin' on it, I guess. As long as she can.


Friday, July 9, 2010

Kalimah Cinta



Simpan diri ku terseksa
Nak ku luahkan ku gentar
Kekurangan ku terbongkar

Sisi mu umpama syurga
Peluang emas ku jamah
Bahagia yang ku cari
Awal dulu

Aku
Insan yang terdampar
Yang tinggal menagih cinta

Terang dan terlindung
Di mana tempat nak ku singgah
Mengesanmu pasangan ditakdirkan

Ku rempuh azab sengsara
Tak kisah asal bersua
Kau kasih penyeri jiwa
Pendorong ku hadapi hidup

Kau kasih isyarat jiwa
Ku meniti jalan yang lurus
Kau kasih isyarat jiwa
Pendorong ku hadapi hidup

Mengenal erti cinta
Mengenal cinta tulus

Monday, July 5, 2010

You're my Everything



You're my everything
The sun that shines above you makes the blue bird sing
The stars that twinkle way up
in the sky, tell me I'm in love.

When I kiss your lips
I feel the rolling thunder to my fingertips
And all the while my head is in a spin
Deep within I'm in love.

You're my everything
And nothing really matters
but the love you bring
You're my everything
To see you in the morning
with those big brown eyes.

You're my everything
Forever everyday I need you
close to me
You're my everything
you'll never have to worry
Never fear for I am near.

Oh, my everything
I live upon the land
and see the sky above
I swim within her oceans
sweet and warm
There's no storm, my love.

When I hold you tight there's nothing
That can harm you In the lonely night
I'll come to you
And keep you safe and warm
It's so strong, my love.

Friday, June 25, 2010

My Father, The IGP, was gunned down


0630:TWO men, possibly hewn from granite, one slightly taller than the other but looking dangerous in both gait and looks, sat at a table at an Indian tea stall near the start of a narrow road in the busy heart of Kuala Lumpur. Faces taut and tanned, noticeable even in the early morning hue, they took in the surroundings.

The taller man glanced at his watch, shifted his cotton sling bag, as did his partner, then smiled faintly to himself as he relaxed. They had time.

0700: June 7, 1974 had looked set to be another languid sort of day, except that, for me, it was somewhat special. In the kitchen of our old government-owned colonial-style bungalow on Jalan Kia Peng, I was having breakfast with my father. Father’s busy schedule as the inspector-general of police, always dutifully criss-crossing the country in keeping a plethora of engagements, often kept him away from the family.

So, the tryst that morning was really something for me to savour. Watching him, so commanding in his khaki-toned IGP uniform, the badges of authority sitting comfortably on his shoulders, sipping his no-sugar, no-cream coffee and browsing the newspaper, I started to muse over the different paths that he and I had taken. He, the policeman, ever secretive with information, and I, the reporter, always trying to dig or coax them out.

He got his kicks mocking me.

“What incident? I haven’t seen the report... who did you hear this from? ” he would ask, mouth half open and face deadpan, teasing almost. I just gave up. You cannot squeeze water from a stone!

Father seldom gave me any quarter (in the professional sense), but he didn’t give much to others either, especially in matters affecting decorum. I got a spectacular show of this on the night of Aug 2, 1973, the day the late deputy prime minister Tun Dr Ismail Datuk Abdul Rahman, died of a heart attack in his Maxwell Road (now Jalan Tun Dr Ismail) home.

I remember as a child, I often accompanied him on his Hari Raya Aidilfitri rounds, visiting the homes of various ministers.I noticed that, at each stop, on seeing father at the doorstep, the VIPs — household names they all were — would rush down to greet him, laugh and banter. Later, while driving home, he would ask me, rather reflectively, “Jib, do you know why those people were so nice to me?”

I would be busy counting the wads of duit raya shoved into my hands (if you cannot corrupt the father, corrupt the son), and though annoyed at the distraction, still mumbled out questioningly, “Because you’re a mata-mata?” (old parlance for policeman).

Until today, I could still remember his reply, “Y-e-s, also because I know everything that they do... everything. And I tell them whenever they misbehave.” But father did not like to admonish people publicly, be it his own men or hopeful bribe-givers. “I don’t like to make people lose face,” he once said.

Father believed in giving people second chances because he always believed that mistakes are the best teacher.

0730: I was jolted out of my reverie by father’s rasping voice telling me that he had to go. He looked at mother, Puan Sri Halimah Mat Isa, gave her RM50 to buy ingredients for mee rebus and told her, somewhat ominously, “that I will not be coming home today before Friday prayers”.

Neither mother nor I could forbode the darkness that would descend on our home.
Earlier on, Syed Othman had called and was told by my father not to accompany him from the house in Jalan Kia Peng as was the routine, but instead to meet him at the office.

That call was to save his life. The trip to Bukit Aman federal police headquarters was unscheduled, however. My father was to attend the Thai-Malaysian General Border Committee (GBC) meeting at the Federal Hotel in Jalan Bukit Bintang. But something urgent had cropped up, enough to cause the re-routing.

Mother had advised him to go straight to the hotel. “Let Syed pick up whatever you need at the office and pass it to you later at the hotel,” she said.

Mother was always the practical one. Born in the lunar year of the Tiger, she was the engine that ran the house, kept the children — all seven of us — meticulously in check during every stage of our growth and steadfastly was the “push factor” in father’s career in ways that far belied her simple village schooling. It was in honour of mother’s uncanny abilities that he once hung a note in the house which said: “I am the boss of the house and whatever my wife says must be obeyed.”

But that morning, just that one time, he did not heed his wife, and climbed into his sky blue Mercedes to go to Bukit Aman. Mother had always sounded her fears about the one-way one-lane road that he normally took to go the office. She thought it provided the perfect setting for an ambush.

Sadly, her fears would later come to bear.

0740: The two men left their seats at the tea stall and moved towards an agreed point, about five metres from the start of Lorong Raja Chulan. They surveyed the scene. It was the usual working day activity with people walking, cycling and driving to work.

More importantly for the duo, cars were moving slowly along the road by which they stood. Suddenly tense, the pair dipped their hands into their sling bags and cast a sharp look at a car entering the lane. It was time.They were now on the threshold of criminal lore.

0745: Driving out of the house, I gave a quick glance at workers putting up several marquees in the sprawling compound. My father had planned to throw a dinner for about 200 Malaysian and Thai police officers on Saturday night to mark the end of the GBC meeting.Once more, it never crossed my mind that the tents would house a more morose event.

0800: After picking up a friend in Cheras, I drove towards the city. My friend, a Malay Mail reporter, had to cover the courts, then located on Court Hill, where Menara Maybank now stands.

08 20 : Coming down from Jalan Weld, I tried to take a short cut to Court Hill via Lorong Raja Chulan, but a policeman waved me on. I took a detour.

0822: Driving past Lorong Raja Chulan, I noticed to my left, that a group of people had gathered around a car. I couldn’t make out the vehicle’s model but sensed an accident had occurred. I made a mental note to check that one out later.

I had made a rolling stop and was just about to proceed towards Court Hill when NST reporter Kristel Kraal spotted me and waved frantically for me to stop. I wound down the front passenger window and asked her what the problem was?

Looking rather distressed, she blurted out that a senior police officer had been shot. I asked, “Who?” to which she said she didn’t know yet. Immediately, my reporter’s instincts kicked in and out came the words: “Alright Kris, this a big story. Get the details while I go parkmy car up the hill. I’ll join you shortly.” I never kept the appointment.

I never found out from Kristel whether she had known all along that it was my father who had been gunned down; that she had kept mum about the officer’s identity because she thought I should be spared finding out the way I did.

Getting down from the car, I walked quickly towards the staircase leading to the road below. Once there, from the top of the staircase, I saw the roof of a sky blue Mercedes Benz. It immediately struck me that there was only one such blue Mercedes in the city.

I remember the feeling that ran through my body then as if itwas just yesterday. Almost certainly it will live in me and haunt me for the rest of my days. Still rooted at the top of the staircase, it finally dawned on me that it was my father who was bleeding down there.

Suddenly, I felt sick. A wave of nausea swept over me. I could feel the blood draining from my body as panic set in. I started to become pale. I wanted to run, to get down to father, to help him... but my feet would not move. Iwanted to shout “Bapak” but the words died in my throat as soon as they were born.

Then, a looming cloud of darkness started to converge upon me, threatening to engulf my senses. I started to feel fear, a drowning kind of fear that I had not imagined possible. I felt my head spinning.

Summoning all my strength, I broke the clamp that had shackled my legs. Soon I found myself “flying” down the staircase screaming “Bapaaak! Bapaaak” at the top of my lungs.

There were onlookers sitting on the steps but to me they were just a blur as I whizzed past them, yelling, “Bapak aku! Bapak aku!” (my father! my father!). As as a young boy, I had dreamt I was being tossed around by a tiger. As a reporter, I had to shake off two gun-toting Thai bandits trailing me in Betong. But I had not felt such terror as I was experiencing now.

Only this time, I felt terror for my father, thinking “I must help him, I must save him”. Hitting the ground, I charged towards the car, half screaming and half crying, “Bapak, Bapak!...” I had nearly reached it when I ran smack into a wall, in the form of the burly frame of famed crimebuster Deputy Superintendent S. Kulasingam (who has since passed away).

Wrapping his huge arms around me, Kula literally lifted me off my feet and whispered, “Najib, Najib, it’s all right, it’s all right, we’ve sent your father to the hospital.” Through my tears, I looked into his eyes and saw that he, too, was tearing up.

After a while, Kula put me down and I made for the Mercedes. Somewhat calmer, I examined the car. Both windows to the left of the driver and the left side of the back passenger seat were shattered. Clearly, the attackwas launched from the left side of the road. I peered at the back seat where father must have been sitting. The backrest, seat and floor were stained with fresh blood, father’s blood.

I had just started to imagine a picture of father lying motionless but breathing heavily at the back seat, uniform soaked with blood, when Kula pulled me away and whisked me into a waiting police car, an Alfa Romeo. At high speed and with sirens wailing, the crew rushed me to the Kuala Lumpur General Hospital (now HKL).

Arriving at the hospital I noticed that a large crowd had totally engulfed the foyer and the entrance to the accident and emergency unit. A patrolman ushered me in. In the car, I had wondered about father. Was he badly hurt? Was he alive? Or was he...? The last thought, I quickly banished from my mind. It was unacceptable.

From a distance, I saw him lying on a trolley, face and arms exposed but covered in a piece of white sheet heavily stained with blood. Several police officers stood quietly nearby, ashen-faced. My heart was pounding as I walked towards father.

Reaching his side, I called out to him, I shook him, touched his face, held his hands and ran my fingers over his. They were limp and lifeless.

Then, almost unbelievingly, at the cold realisation that he had returnedto the merciful embrace of Allah, I fell over his body, hugged him tightly and repeatedly cried out “sorry”... sorry that I wasn’t there to help him just when he needed me most.

The two gunmen, according to the official story, were communist hitmen. Standing side by side, they fired automatic pistols towards father and his driver, Sgt Omar. The sergeant took a nick in the neck, opened his door and fled the scene.

But father never had a chance. I suspect he must have been reading his files, like he usually did, when the bullets ripped into his body. The lacerations, the tearing away of the flesh from the fingers of both his hands that I saw at the hospital, could only mean that he was trying to ward off the bullets with his hands. He was just 51.

The duo allegedly responsible for father’s death were eventually caught, but only after they had summarily dispatched another high ranking police officer, Tan Sri Khoo Chong Kong, then the chief police officer of Perak, in the same year. And while the two men were hanged for the murder of Khoo, they were never tried for the killing of the IGP.

Riding the memories of a murder for 36 years is a long time. But for me, each year, as the anniversary off ather’s death draws near, I pause to reflect on questions that simply will not go away.

Father was very committed to his work and the force. Once, he asked me to write out his speech where he had mapped out his blueprint for the force he had been entrusted to lead; a better esprit de corps, to improve housing and welfare, better educational facilities for children of policemen and, most importantly, an insurance protection scheme to help families of those slain on duty.

I know that the last point was very close to his heart as he often visited the families of slain Special Branch officers, and felt their loss. He often got personal with those he had handpicked to run dangerous missions.

Summoning them to his office, he would say to them words like: “Tan, I want you to do this for me. Don’t worry about your family. If anything happens to you, I will take care of them.” He always kept his promise.

It was unfortunate that his plan for better welfare for his charges could not be realised soon enough to help his own family. Following father’s death, three of my brothers had their studies disrupted.

I might add that father knew he was a hunted man, that a contract had been placed on his life. So he took out an insurance cover for RM1 million. But he died on the day the confirmation letter was laid out on his desk for him to sign. Was that the reason why he went to Bukit Aman that day? We will never know.

The evening before he died, father and I watched his favourite TV show, Kojak, featuring Telly Savalas as a devil-may-care lollypop-sucking New York cop. At the end of the program, he turned to me and said: “You know Jib, he (Kojak) is just like me. He does what he feels is right.”

As it had been with Octavia Caesar who pleaded with her husband not to go to the Senate because she dreamt that she saw Caesar’s statue covered in blood, with Brutus standing beside it — his hands, too, soaked in blood — so it was with my younger sister, Sofwanah.

Days before father died, she dreamt that she had found him lying in a pool of blood, a knife stuck in his back. For two more nights, the same dream returned to haunt her. It left her in tears. And she was in London then.

Read more: "My father, the IGP, was gunned down"

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Amazing



Amazing

I kept the right ones out
And let the wrong ones in
Had an angel of mercy
To see me through all my sins
There were times in my life
When I was goin' insane
Tryin' to walk through the pain

And when I lost my grip
And I hit the floor
Yeah, I thought I could leave
But couldn't get out the door
I was so sick n' tired
Of livin' a lie
I was wishing that I would die

It's amazing
With the blink of an eye
You finally see the light
It's amazing
That when the moment arrives
You know you'll be alright
It's amazing
And I'm saying a prayer
For the desperate hearts tonight

That one last shot's a Permanent Vacation
And a how high can you fly with broken wings
Life's a journey - not a destination
And I just can't tell just what tomorrow brings

You have to learn to crawl
Before you learn to walk
But I just couldn't listen
To all that righteous talk
I was out on the street
Just tryin' to survive
Scratchin' to stay alive

"So, from all of us at Aerosmith
To all of you out there, wherever you are.

Remember- the light at the end of the tunnel

May be you. Goodnight!"

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Tu Ne Me Dois Rien



Tu Ne Me Dois Rien
(Stephan Eicher)

Je ne t’entends pas très bien.
Il y a si longtemps.
D’où m’appelles-tu? D’où vient.
Ce besoin si pressant
De m’écouter soudain?
Les poules grattent-elles des dents?

Ma voix t’a-t-elle manqué
Après bientôt un an ?
Ce serait une belle journée
Et il n’y en a pas tant.
Je sais me contenter
De petites choses à présent

On enterre ce qui meurt,
On garde les bons moments.
J’ai eu quelquefois peur
Que tu m’oublies vraiment.
Tu as sur mon humeur
Encore des effets gênants.

Mais tu ne me dois rien,
J’ai eu un mal de chien,
A me faire à cette idée,
A l’accepter enfin.
Est-ce qu’au moins tu m’en sais gré?
Chacun poursuit son chemin
Avec ce qu’on lui a donné
Mais toi,toi tu ne me dois rien.

Tu ne m’as pas dérangé,
Je vis seul pour l’instant.
Mais je ne suis pas pressé,
Tu sais, je prends mon temps.
Tout est si compliqué,
Tout me paraît si différent

On ne refait pas sa vie,
On continue seulement.
On dort moins bien la nuit,
On écoute patiemment,
De la maison les bruits,
Du dehors l’effondrement.

Je vais bien cela dit.
Appelle-moi plus souvent,
Si tu en as envie,
Si tu as un moment.
Mais il n’y a rien d’écrit
Et rien ne t’y oblige vraiment.

Monday, May 10, 2010

G For Garou

Garou is a French Canadian singer from Quebec, Canada.
After playing a role of Quasimodo in a musical Notre-Dame de Paris, he became a star in France. In 2000, Garou recorded a duet with Celine Dion called "Sous le Vent."


Thursday, May 6, 2010

Memoir Of A Lost Pilgrim

There is a beginning of all, even the smallest that for most seems unimportant. And of course there is a beginning for my story. It started many years ago when I was just a happy living-his-life teenager back in my hometown. As usual my days were filled with school works but at the same time my teenage instinct being a daredevil was also my preoccupation. Nothing could replace the satisfaction of booby-trapping a master or doing the most filthy pranks on the others.

Yes that was life! But the life I knew was quickly erased in front of me the moment I journeyed into the new world; no turning back... I wish I could. All the good times that I once knew are just memories now. Each day that I slowly pass in the new world doesn't mean a thing for me. The days are plain, the agony deep inside strangles and I am a prisoner of my own wise decision.

I regret having my own liberty prematurely. It's just not right. I still need time to spend my teenhood alongside my buddies. Where was my head the day I made the decision? I thought being free, far from my folks and having no one to babysit me was fun. Yeah, it was, but for a short period of time only. Then I start to realize what I've missed. I've overran my own youth. If I could just go back to the day that I took my exams.. I'd try not to pass with flying colours..just an ordinary score..just credits in everything.

An old saying goes 'You learn from your mistakes'. Big deal! I learnt from mine that most mistakes make make you regret a lot. But on the other side, being in a new world isn't that bad after all. Still...I regret it. I came to see new things, little or no new experience, a few new friends, a lot of crap..and..what else..? I came to the new world to continue my struggle but what's the struggle without any heart. My spirit is elsewhere, there where I left it once upon a time. I don't even know if what I'm doing here is done of obligation or of my own dream. Some other people can manage through the challenges they face in this world, some others surrender and some others, they just flow along but in fact they're dead.

I envy my brother back home who lives his life the way I wished I've lived mine and being able to concentrate on his struggling at the same time. He has a life, not me. He took the right decision (at my point of view) by not accepting the journey that I made. I could have stayed a few years ago if it wasn't for a buddy who advised me against my decision. And I followed his advice because the best advice that one will get is from a real pal. At that time the exit was still possible but I just couldn't let a buddy down..no way.

To be a man one will have to voluntarily hold the burden that weighs upon his shoulder and to upfront the consequences of his doings with pride and honour. To survive he will have to use his mind at the upmost and be prepared for any outcomes. That was the lesson that I took during my life. I've lost a lot while living my life in this world. I knew bad times and I knew the real meaning of a dull, boring life. My pride, my identity and my self-confidence was the price for my integration into the new society and the sacrifice was unfelt until it was too late. The moment I realised that I've gone way too far, I just couldn't get back ashore.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Vista Security Tool 2010

I was busy all day during weekend trying to get rid of a rogue anti-spyware, Vista Security Tool 2010. Its pretending to be a spyware remover, while its number one primary objective is to scare its victims into purchasing its licensed version. To find out what its look like, see the screen capture below:


At first, I really thought my computer was infected by so many trojans and spyware. Fortunately, when I googled "vista security tool 2010 removal", there are more than 9 million results. So its a known issue infecting everybody on Internet and there are already cures for it. I chose one of the top 10 results titled "How To Uninstall / Remove Internet Security 2010 Virus (Removal Guide)". I installed the required tool...and...voila!!! No more alert coming from Vista Security Tool 2010...Its gone...:)

Apparently, Vista Security Tool 2010 manoeuvre is to utilize associated backdoor Trojans (for instance Trojan Vundo or Zlob), so that obscured penetration into the directed machine is successful. Once inside the destined system, Vista Security Tool 2010 will obscurely produce hundreds of fake malware entities in the penetrated system. Once this is performed, Vista Security Tool 2010 will then “discover” these artificial files and ensure the unsuspicious user, you and I, to believe it’s high time to get rid of all the reported malware. I almost believed in their scam!

You can get more info on the "vista security tool 2010" or other similar issue from one of the site here.

Monday, April 26, 2010

E For Eric (Cantona)

Eric Cantona..who else? Cantona is often considered as having played a leading role in the revival of Manchester United as a footballing powerhouse and he enjoys iconic status at the club and in English football. In 2001, he was voted as Manchester United's player of the century and is dearly dubbed "King Eric". He is the current manager of the France beach soccer team.

Obviously, Eric Cantona is multi-talented in life; not only a great footballer, but also a good actor.


Thursday, April 22, 2010

D for Dato' Shake



Avec Elle
(Dato' Shake)
Avec elle, c'était l'eau et le pain,
L'odeur du bon café le matin,
Le bonheur fait de tout petits riens
Avec elle
Les dimanches sans se lever du lit,
Les volets refermés sur Paris,
Simplement pour oublier la nuit,
Avec elle

Avec elle, c'était jamais l'hiver
Il poussait des bleuets sur la neige
Il ne tournera plus, le manège,
Avec elle
Elle a tout emporté loin de moi
Quand son cœur est parti en voyage
Elle a pris ma vie dans ses bagages,
Avec elle.

Avec elle, on vivait simplement
La télé, les petits restaurants,
On parlait même de faire un enfant
Avec elle
Aujourd'hui, les volets sont ouverts,
Dans la chambre, il y a trop de lumière
Et mes yeux ne regardent plus qu'hier,
Avec elle

Avec elle, c'était jamais l'hiver
Il poussait des bleuets sur la neige
Il ne tournera plus, le manège,
Avec elle
Elle a tout emporté loin de moi
Quand son cœur est parti en voyage
Elle a pris ma vie dans ses bagages,
Avec elle.

Avec elle, c'était l'eau et le pain,
L'odeur du bon café le matin,
Le bonheur fait de tout petits riens
Avec elle
Les dimanches sans se lever du lit,
Les volets refermés sur Paris,
Simplement pour oublier la nuit,
Avec elle

Avec elle
La la la
Le bonheur fait de tout petits riens
Avec elle.

Les 35 Heures


If you were working in France some time ago, this was the best thing for you as an employee : Les 35 heures!

The working hour was reduced from thirty-nine to thirty-five hours in France sometime in 2000.

This didn't mean all workers suddenly stopped an hour early every day. Companies negotiated with their employees and introduced policies to work it out. Some firms settled on 5 seven-hour working days, others gave a half-day off per week, or a day off every fortnight. For example, some people will leave office earlier everyday, some will work half day on a certain day and others will get additional off-day once every two weeks.

Try to phone an office in France on Friday afternoon, and you'll get the feeling of the thirty-five working hours in France :)

It seems the thirty-five working hours really work in France. Even the new law introduced by the government of Nicolas Sarkozy to revert to thirty-nine working hours is being met with resistance ... from employers.

C is for Cat (Chat, Chatte, Chaton en français)

She said....C is for Cat :)
Yes dear, C is for Cat.
This one specially for you..
Ca fait du bien dis donc..!!!...hehehe :)


Wednesday, April 21, 2010

C For Cabrel



C'est Ecrit
(Francis Cabrel)

Elle te fera changer la course des nuages
Balayer tes projets, vieillir bien avant l'âge
Tu la perdras cent fois dans les vapeurs des ports
C'est écrit
Elle rentrera blessée dans les parfums d'un autre
Tu t'entendras hurler : "Que les diables l'emportent !"
Elle voudra que tu pardonnes, et tu pardonneras
C'est écrit

Elle n'en sort plus de ta mémoire
Ni la nuit, ni le jour
Elle danse derrière les brouillards
Et toi, tu cherches et tu cours.

Tu prieras jusqu'aux heures où personne n'écoute
Tu videras tous les bars qu'elle mettra sur ta route
T'en passeras des nuits à regarder dehors.
C'est écrit

Elle n'en sort plus de ta mémoire
Ni la nuit, ni le jour
Elle danse derrière les brouillards
Et toi, tu cherches et tu cours
Mais y a pas d'amours sans histoires.
Et tu rêves, tu rêves

Qu'est-ce qu'elle aime, qu'est-ce qu'elle veut ?
Et ces ombres qu'elle te dessine autour des yeux
Qu'est-ce qu'elle aime ?
Qu'est-ce qu'elle rêve, qui elle voit ?
Et ces cordes qu'elle t'enroule autour des bras
Qu'est-ce qu'elle aime ?

Je t'écouterai me dire ses soupirs, ses dentelles
Qu'à bien y réfléchir, elle n'est plus vraiment belle
Que t'es déjà passé par des moments plus forts
Depuis...

Elle n'en sort plus de ta mémoire
Ni la nuit, ni le jour
Elle danse derrière les brouillards
Et toi, tu cherches et tu cours
Mais y a pas d'amours sans histoires.
Oh tu rêves, tu rêves

Elle n'en sort plus de ta mémoire
Elle danse derrière les brouillards
Et moi j'ai vécu la même histoire
Depuis je compte les jours
Depuis je compte les jours
Depuis je compte les jours

B For Bruel



J'te L'dis Quand Même
On aurait pu se dire tout ça
Ailleurs qu'au café d'en bas,
Que t'allais p't êt' partir
Et p't êt' même pas rev'nir,
Mais en tout cas, c' qui est sûr,
C'est qu'on pouvait en rire.

Alors on va s' quitter comme ça,
Comme des cons d'vant l' café d'en bas.
Comme dans une série B,
On est tous les deux mauvais.
On s'est moqué tellement d' fois
Des gens qui faisaient ça.

Mais j' trouve pas d' refrain à notre histoire.
Tous les mots qui m' viennent sont dérisoires.
J' sais bien qu' j' l'ai trop dit,
Mais j' te l' dis quand même... je t'aime.

J' voulais quand même te dire merci
Pour tout le mal qu'on s'est pas dit.
Certains rigolent déjà.
J' m'en fous, j' les aimais pas.
On avait l'air trop bien.
Y en a qui n' supportent pas.

Mais j' trouve pas d' refrain à notre histoire.
Tous les mots qui m' viennent sont dérisoires.
J' sais bien qu' j' l' ai trop dit,
Mais j' te l' dis quand même... je t'aime.

A For Amélie


Amélie or Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain ("The Fabulous Destiny of Amélie Poulain") is a 2001 romantic comedy flick directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet. Written by Jeunet with Guillaume Laurant, the movie is a capricious depiction of modern-day Parisian life, set in Montmartre. It narrates the story of a timid waitress, acted by Audrey Tautou, who determines to change the lives of those around her for the better, while struggling with her own reclusiveness. The film was an international co-production between companies in France and Germany.

Amélie won best film at the European Film Awards; it won four César Awards (including Best Film and Best Director), two BAFTA Awards (including Best Original Screenplay), and was nominated for five Academy Awards.

The film stars two of today's most outstanding actors in France: Audrey Tautou, Mathieu Kassovitz.


Saturday, April 17, 2010

A Pour Axelle



Jamais je n'aurais pensé...
"Tant besoin de lui"
Je me sens si envoutée
Que ma maman me dit : ralentis
Désir ou amour
Tu le sauras un jour

J'aime j'aime
Tes yeux, j'aime ton odeur
Tous les gestes en douceur
Lentement dirigés
Sensualité
Oh stop un instant
J'aimerais que ce moment
Fixe pour des tas d'années
Ta sensualité

Il paraît qu'après quelques temps
La passion s'affaiblie
Pas toujours apparemment
Et maman m'avait dit : ralentis
Désir et amour
Tu le sauras un jour

J'aime j'aime

Je te demande simplement
Ne fais pas semblant
Je t'aimerais encore
Et encore

Désir ou amour

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

French Alphabet (I)

Learning to speak french is not easy, especially if we're not in France and we've never been in France in our life. The very first thing we need to learn in french is its alphabet pronunciation. Once you've mastered the alphabet, it will be easy to pronounce other French words.

For the English speaking people, you'll find that most letters from "A" to "Z" are pronounced differently in French. In the beginning, you might also confuse on how they pronounce the letter "e" and "i", "g" and "j", and so on...and how about ''u"? Anyone would like to give it a try?

Watch (the video below) and learn how to correctly pronounce the different letters of the French alphabet...