A.Z.Y.D.

Hello, future Dyza. Have you married yet? Because by the time you see this, you'll be 25 years old.

Today is February 24th, 2012, and you're still single just like you've always been. Our President is SBY and US$1 = IDR10.000. You live in Bandung and you're eating teri-kacang right now.

There was this one moment in my childhood that comes to my head whenever I listen to “Super Mario Bros” theme song. This story is from when I was in elementary school. I was maybe 6-8 years old.

On Sundays, I used to have bubble bath in my parents’ tub. With lots and lots of bubbles. I used off a quarter of a tall bottle of liquid soap every time. It’s that much bubble. Sometimes, I have my cousins joining me in the tub. But most of the time, I was happy on my own. (I’m my parents’ only child, if you don’t know me by now)

On a particular Sunday, it’s almost noon and I was late for my morning bath. (I used to take baths/showers twice a day, LOL) My mother already turned on the tap and filled the tub with bubbles, but “The Super Mario Bros Super Show” was just about to start on TV! I refused to get in the tub because I wanted so bad to see the show.

Now, before we continue, you need to know that my parents are the best. They moved a table to the bathroom, took a tube TV out of their bedroom, placed it on the table, plugged it in to the nearest power outlet, and changed the channel to the one that showed “The Super Mario Bros Super Show.”

One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.

I'm so deep my anus leaks the words of the prophet in the form of a fart

I'm so deep the public swimming pool of my thoughts is all deep end

I'm so deep pointing to my brain magnifies the value of what I say: 327 folds

I'm so deep every word I speak is a metaphor including "is", "a", and "every"

I'm so deep the words "I'm so deep" aren't a hook they're a mantra

I'm so deep I'm the iceberg that let another iceberg sink the Titanic

Question: what does that metaphor mean? Answer: I'm too deep to give you the clues!

When I say I'm deep like a pre-war communist, or I’m deep like an exotic cheese spoken of loudly, or I’m deep like the sound of one butt cheek laughing, you just have to shut-up and know what I'm talking about or remember the mantra words and whisper, "yawl! that mo-fuh's hella deep, yawl!"

Because I am deeper than sense

My silence is deep

I have deep underwear and my balls get confused in them

I'm so deep I transcend the word "transcend" I'm so deep I made knowing “none of the answers” always is the answer

I'm sooo deep I can find the corndog in the platinum rap single of your mind

Damn! That's deep

Shit! I'm the, like, deepest

I'm like the carpenter of deep I embody the combined deep DNA of all the great "deeps" before me

I'm so deep my cock is shaped like Merlin I'm so deep "3" is "4" I'm so deep the wind..............

I'm so deep

Halo, Tumblr. Apa kabar?

Tiba-tiba ku teringat sama almarhum Opa. Terus teringat sama koleksi film Amerika tahun ‘80-an milik beliau. Teringat how he used to let me watch movies from his collection, and how he’s okay with me watching them in his study room. Teringat sama film favoritku dari koleksinya itu: Mannequin (1987). Teringat betapa ku suka sekali lagu soundtrack dari film ini. Teringat betapa film ini sebenernya film untuk orang dewasa, bukan untuk anak SD. Teringat waktu sinetronnya Diana Pungky di awal tahun 2000-an yang berjudul Boneka Poppy keluar di TV, I can easily point out that it’s a Mannequin rip-off karena udah sering mengulang-ulang nonton film Mannequin. Teringat how Opa would rate his movies collection by drawing points on the covers with a corrector pen--it’s a scale of one to three points. He drew lots of three points, and I really like his taste. Teringat how we used to really love shopping for pirated DVDs in ITC malls. Teringat juga how I used to lend you my own movies collection when I was in high school.

Sekarang udah gak ada lagi kebiasaan itu. And there’s no more you.

Ceritanya jadi Nelly.

Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: “I like strong women.” If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because “I like strong women” is code for “I hate strong women.”)"