Jeremy Spoke; the Four Letter Word


Mr Severson's full of angst. He doesn't need drugs he says, life's tragic enough.

Admittedly, I'm not a huge Pearl Jam fan, but I love their Ten album, a powerful piece of work that alas, they did not repeat. One of my favourite songs of all time is "Jeremy", a heart wrenching tale of neglect and loneliness, and based on the true story of Jeremy Delle, a 16 year old who killed himself in front of his English class at Richardson High School in Richardson, Texas. "Jeremy" had its share of infamy when in 1996, Barry Loukaitis, a junior-high student in Washington State, shot and killed 2 students and a teacher in school, claiming he was copying the video of this song.

To my delight, Red 104 played the song at about 11.30 this morning, in its entirety. No editing out, or diluting the profanity to "runt" or "kid" or "boy". No, it was the F word. On radio. Woo hoo!

In defence of Sheila (who by the way, was my partner when we were both DJ's at Blue Moon, a dance hall playing mostly ballroom) you can't understand most of what Eddie Vedder is saying anyway, unless you're conversant in Eddiespeak. Let's just hope no one in Angkasapuri heard it either. (And hopefully, they don't read my blog -- except you, Papa, but you're retired)

For a prime example of Eddie Vedder's incoherence, and why it shouldn't matter, try the B-Side of "Jeremy" : "Yellow Ledbetter".

mokciknab muttered at 11:35 am ~ ~

For a Change



There's so many things that I could write about -- the haze, Mawi, the almost all-white International Advisory Panel on NEP, the MCA elections, Kheng Yaik's call on the social contract, Rafidah's political future -- but really, do you want me to? I could, but I won't. I feel the whole process of talking about what's wrong with the way things are; is so futile. The more they're discussed, the less they're likely to change. Talk changes little, and talk's only good for politicians. Sure, there are changes afoot, but they are changes beyond my control, and beyond my liking.

Ghandi said you must be the change you want to see in the world. The only things you can truly change are things that are within your realm - you, your family, and the environs within which you exist. And you know what? I think that's already plenty.

mokciknab muttered at 5:49 pm ~ ~

It's Not Sofwan's Birthday

Sofwan is my closest confidante at the place I used to work and on his birthday, I've always been a generous friend. On various occasions, I've given him a new wardrobe, a marble chess set and a Playstation. This year, I am broke and can't afford expensive presents. Sofwan, on the other hand, is not, and in view of my own impending birthday, I figure maybe he could buy me something nice for a change.

So, this morning, I called him up, and the moment he answered I launched into song :

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Sofwan, happy birthday to you!", sang I.

"Elida, it's not my birthday till Saturday", he replied.

"Really?", I said, quite disgraced." Tipu lah! It's your birthday!", I insisted.

"My birthday is on the 13th", said Sofwan, perhaps thinking by now what a terrible friend Elida is for not getting his birthday right.

"Oh ye ke." I'm resigned to my mistake. "But I'm sure today's a birthday for someone I know. Oh God, whose birthday am I forgetting pulak?"

"I don't know. It's not mine". After he hung up, I tried to think about it for a while, just in case it's someone from whom I could extort a good gift. I tried to think of all the August Leos I know, a coterie of people Sofwan and I vainly think are better than other people (hahaha) but obviously some of us have bad memories. No name came up, until I saw a birthday greeting printed across an independent website.

I wouldn't have remembered this man's birthday if not for a particular incident. On this very day, several years ago, I was priveleged to be sipping java with a prominent former Editor-in-Chief, who was at that time, already a former Editor-in-Chief. It was the height of disenchantment in Malaysia, a fact this senior scribe lamented.

"Do you know what day it is today?", he asked me. My policy with Editors is to be honest when you're clueless, so I shook my head and said no.

"It's Anwar Ibrahim's birthday", he sighed. We left it at that, and drank our coffee.

mokciknab muttered at 11:40 am ~ ~

Ampun! Please Forgive Me

Last week, at Paya Serai, while piling up my plate at the buffet line, I ran into a dear friend, the chi chi chief of a very influential women's magazine. She didn't bother with the usual kissy kissy niceties.

"Where have you been?", she demanded.
"Well, I, I, I 've been here", I said, not really sure what crime she's accusing me of. Besides, a demanding editor always gives me the stammers.
"Well, why haven't you been updating?", she inquired, "I'm tired of looking at the Hey Jude post".

Oh. Cringe, cringe.

Okay, so I have neglected this little webspace, maybe for a lot longer than I should have. For those of you who are loyal enough to still check in on me, I do apologize. I have been a little busy, and between work, husband and kids, I'd feel really guilty if I used the spare time to blog.

But then I may be presumptous. After that long hiatus, perhaps no one would even be reading this. In which case, all I could say to myself is : padan muka.

mokciknab muttered at 11:05 am ~ ~