I miss writing

Altho technically its not writing, its typing..but you know..screw technicalities...Ive never been a purist myself...sometimes you have to accept technology as it is. Come to think of it I can't remember the last time I write more than 2 fluid pages worth of mind fart using a pen ( or pencil...I'm a pencil kinda guy) and paper. Although I still take notes religiously with my pencil and my notebook but i won't qualify that as writing.

I think I've written about " I miss writing , I miss life , I miss blablahbalh * insert shameless self-pity* blahblahblah" before, so I'm not going to go all cable-tv reruns on myself. Oh by the way, Ahmad Badawi kinda looks like my uncle. I'm not saying it in a bad way. I think the current Malaysian PM is quite a handsome looking chap. I'm just saying that he kinda looks like my uncle. Which one? The one with a moustache. Sorry..where was I before I wrote..ahem..typed about Badawi's uncanny similarity to an unsuspecting relative?..hmmmmm...oh yes... I'm not in the habit of repeating what I write. I'm not in the habit of repeating what I write. If you're wondering why Ahmad Badawi suddenly found himself squeezed in between the naked words running across this unimportant journal entry, it's because I'm watching "Berita" aka the news on tv. Yes..contrary to popular believe I do indulge in Malay television sometimes. Oh..one more thing...Anwar Ibrahim is accused of conducting forbidden activities with a goat again....Correct me if I'm wrong cos my malay sucks...maybe I heard wrong. maybe it wasn't a goat.. maybe they said..cow...or man...One thing for sure, he's in trouble again.

Well..enough with the unimportant stuff. Time to bring up the really juicy issues. Last Friday, I was at Fareast Plaza ( Al-fareez , according to some friends who regards it as their spiritual destination while the rest( or few?) of us head towards Al- Falah for friday prayers back in JC) It still looks the same after all these years.So full of youth and unabashed alternative vigor, just as Ive always fondly remembered it to be. I used to avoid the place like a plague. I'll only step into that place for good reasons. Like cheap Chinese-muslim food. Notice I said cheap and not good. I was at Far East that particular evening as I was conducting a field research on youths. I want to study them in their most natural setting, where the only uniform they're wearing is their skin, stripped of rules and expectations dictated by the judgmental chains of strict adult scrutiny; where they are empowered by their position as valued individuals (and their astonishing spending power) While these youths migrate purposefully from shops to shops, I approach this alien surroundings like a duck in a chicken barn. Maybe if I mimic their easy uncalculated movements, it might naturally progress into some sort of comprehension for their raw intent. Maybe..just maybe....i could figure out the binary codes behind the deal that make teens so hard to handle.

Maybe...just..maybe..I'm bullshitting...maybe all of this "field research" is actually a story I conjured up in my head to tell anyone I-dont-wanna meet-but-i-bump-into in that godforsaken place while waiting for my sis to choose her pair of jeans.. Maybe...just maybe....