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The Visitor |
Friends & Foes
In the Scene Pt.I: Onisan
I haven't done a 'Friends & Foes' post in quite a while, so I thought I'd start again with this person here:  Because he's the first and foremost person who, no matter what, I would trust with my life.
This is not to say that I don't trust my other friends with my life. Far from it. I have been blessed with some incredibly great friends, all of whom I trust.
But this guy, he's stood by me through thick n' thin, through the best and the worst.
He's had people fuck him over in the worst way and betrayed his trust yet he still stands up for what he believes in and he stands up for his friends, even though his life would be made a lot easier if he just gave in.
He's like Marv from Sin City, a huge, hulking tough guy with a heart of gold except with more brains and less violence, although sometimes I wonder what's stopping him from going berserker.
This man would die for his friends. So why should he expect anything less from me?
His name is Saiful. But you can call him Onisan. Because it means 'Big Brother' and it's about time the dude got some respect.
...
...although this doesn't stop me from making fun of his wobbly bits. Ye frickin' lunchbox.
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The Gemini Factor.
Like I said earlier, Friends & Foes is the name of the category, and we've gone on about friends long enough. But what about those that make up both sides of the coin? Someone who was both a pal and a pain? Enter Neil.
We both had the same birthday, making us both Gemini's, and if you know anything about Gemini's you'd know that there's two sides to our personalities. Two extremes. It was his cool side that made me want to befriend him, but it was living with him that brought out the un-cool side of things.
The first inkling of stormy weather was during our road trip at the end of the first year of uni. We had managed to procure the union van for 'drama society reasons', claiming we were going to Stratford-Upon-Avon to check out Big Willie Shakespeare's place of origin. Instead we went to stonehenge to stare at hippies during the solstice, followed by somewhere down south I can't remember (maybe Exeter) where I slept in rabbit's piss, back to London to pick up the others then down to Brighton to oggle at chicks on the beach. On our way back, Neil was driving. Irish James was taking the piss out of something and in the midst of it, told Neil to fuck off, jokingly, at a red light.
Neil stared at him for almost a minute, then stepped out of the van and walked away.
The light turned green and none of us knew what to do. Thankfully, he came back and the rest of the trip was a lot quieter. This was when we were first introduced to Neil's 'moments'.
Staying with him during my second year brought it's toll on me more than ever. Not only were we living with a pothead who was a moody bastard whenever he was off the stuff, we also had to put up with his issues over the fact that he was older than us, a fact that never once enterred any of our minds as a problem. He was adamant about his beliefs on good and evil, right or wrong, and any comments of the opposite opinion were met with hostility.
Regardless, Kul (my other flatmate) and myself were very peaceful people, but also capable of outbursts when pushed over the edge. Neil pushed me over mine when he told me he didn't want my girlfriend around and yelled at her in her face before my eyes.
I don't even know what I said, I just saw red and blew up, screaming and shouting a fury before slamming te door behind me and walking out barefoot in the rain, sitting at the bus stop. My girlfriend joined me later and comforted me, and we spent the rest of the holiday in my bedroom.
After that I never wanted to go back except to sleep. I'd eat out every single day and find something to do before making my way back to Hackney where I'd run up to my room and occupy myself with whatever I could. Kul took his TV and playstation to his room and remained hidden too.
You know there's something wrong when you're not comfortable in your own living room.
I honestly can't remember the last time I saw him, but there were good times to be had with the ol' geezer. Out on the town, he was a laugh, and he'd stand up for his mates whenever need be.
I remember the one time we celebrated our birthday together, though. Laura's housewarming party. At the stroke of midnight, Saj and Kul pulled out Jay and Silent Bob toys. Almost instinctively, I grabbed Jay and he grabbed Silent Bob. Looking back, thinking we'd be heteral-life-mates like that sonambulistic duo was a tad bit on the wishful thinking side. So here's to Neil: a decent friend, but one I could never live with.
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Kids Are Cruel.
A friend of mine who read this blog once remarked that whilst there's a section called 'Friends & Foes', I never seem to write about the latter. One of the reasons could be because I don't sincerely hate that many people. I do, in fact, have a list of dogg-licking-anal-remnants who I wish were beaten by a gang of stone cold motherfuckers before running a train on them.
Surprisingly, two new people managed to make that very short list this and last year. My only question is, now that I have the place to, should I?
After all, some of my friends have requested that I don't write about them, and I have nothing but good things to say about them, so what about those that I have intense feelings of hate for?
Perhaps we should start with the beginning, the bringer of hate, a rudebwoy wannabe centre-parted-with-an-undercut-easy-geezer-public-schoolboy-Patel named Niraj.
Niraj acted like he was a friend throughout my first year of GCSE's. Niraj and his crew asked me to hang out with them whilst we had French exchanges, so all our French friends could all hang out together. I had a crush on my French Exchange. Niraj went out with her.
I later found out that the only reason they all hung out with me was so that my French exchange, Alice, could hang out with them. They had no use for me, other than to bring Alice from point A to point B. I was expendable, as they all proved after the whole French exchange thing was done and they never spoke to me again.
If you remember the posts I've put up, he was the one I got into a fight with whilst all those people I thought were friends stood around us in a circle shouting his name in support. He'd be what some would say one of the more cooler kids in school, whilst I was the geek in NHS specs and a black overcoat, playing Sega or Warhammer and reading comic books. I was the funny Chinese looking kid with the American accent. He was in like fuckin' Flynn.
Throughout my whole time in that school, I hated his fucking guts and wished to God that the tables turned when I got into that fight with him. Whenever I look back I wish I kicked the shit out of him, beaten his face to a bloody pulp and thwack him with a cricket bat.
Make a move on the girl I fancy? No prob. Shun me out after you got what you want? That ain't cool. Beat me up? Fuckin' last straw.
Niraj was the first one to make the list. Funny how you remember the things you hate from your past more than the things you love. I was thirteen. Heh.
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The Browns
 At some point in 2001/02 (and even 2003), all the upcoming young bands and musicians you know of now all made one of their first impressions on the local music scene at one gig in particular: the Acoustic Jam, a monthly show featuring well-known or at least extremely talented local musicians performing an acoustic set. What set it apart, and the reason why so many bands got their first break there, was thanks to their 'open mic' policy, where anyone could sign up to perform two or three songs between the acts on the bill. That show was organized by the couple you see before you: Peter & Markiza Brown, of the band Soft Touch.
I first noticed Tempered Mental at the Acoustic Jam. I met people such as Pete Teo, Chak and MojoPin (featuring Eddy, my current drummer in Triple 6 Poser). This was the first gig where Khaimano really made an impact in terms of our funny-ass songs.
More importantly, it's where I met Peter & Markiza, who are two of the most wonderful people I've ever met.
The fact that they're still playing music, no matter what the odds are, inspires me. They run their own label and still continue to write new songs and even released Spunky Funggy's debut. When I got a chance to interview them for Dragon Music Magazine, listening to them recount the stories of how they met, how they got into music, how they got into the whole game is akin to sitting down with any rock n' roll great and asking them how it all began.
Most of all, I love the fact that their both so enthusiastic about music. I hear nothing but good things and praise from Peter every time I see him, which is more than I deserve, really.
So here's to them, and to Soft Touch. May the radio stations be garroted for not playing any of their material on air.
Cheers, guv'nor!
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Greetings From Malaysia Pt. I: Rauf
 When I got back to Malaysia, the only people I knew were the people I went to A level college with in England. Hence, to widen my friend scope, they introduced me to their friends. Like this dude right here, courtesty of Jordan.
I used to hang out with Rauf a lot. Main reason, Rauf's mobile phone worked, whereas Jordan was harder to reach than the G-Spot. We would chat about, well, whatever it is buddies chat about, deep in the bowels of a mamak in Desa Pandan that served a mutton curry that would automatically make you shit your soul out in a liquid form. It may have been laced with heroine, or some other addictive substance, because regardless of the damage our rectum would encounter, we kept eating it every time we went there.
Rauf's like the little brother most of us never have (although I now do have a little brother, but I don't think it's the right time to bring him out to a pub to check out table dancers). He enjoys writing prose and reading those that many people wouldn't know.
Did you notice that? It rhymed. Mad lyrics. We gots flow.
One day Rauf called me up a bearer of bad news.
"UIA didn't accept my enrolment."
UIA is the Islamic University in Malaysia, which is also one of the top Universities in the country and gets lots of foreign students due to the fact that they teach in English. Rauf wanted to do Sociology.
"Why didn't they accept you?" I asked, "What was their reason?"
"I don't know."
"Did you put anything in your entry form that may have put them off?"
"Well, I was very honest. I said that the writer who most influenced me was Salman Rushdie."
Dramatic pause.
"You told them that one of your biggest influences was someone who half the Islamic world would like to burn at the stake?"
"...yes."
Hmm.
A few months ago he followed me to a shoot for a short film I was acting in. He spent the whole time reading a very thick book. Turns out it was the English translation of the Qur'an, and since then he has seen the light and followed the path of faith, in his own interpretation.
Saying that, I still know that if a fine piece of female was offered to him on a plate he'd tap that ass and ask for dessert.
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The Concord Connection Pt. I: Jordy-Boy
 This is he.
This is the man that got me into this whole music thing.
Technically, Andi and Goz are to blame for playing their guitars and making me think 'hey, I think I'll play guitar too'. Understand that before this I was non-stop hip-hop, NY style, big it up wicked stylee. But Andi and Goz introduced me to Weezer. Offspring. Nirvana. And if Kurt plays lefty, I'll play lefty, even if it's toughter to find lefty guitars.
When I went to Concord College for A levels I'd only been playing for less than two or three months. Then I bumped into this dude. Our dads both knew each other, hence we were introduced. I still remember that first moment, Jordan dressed in baggy jeans, Airwalk shoes, a long sleeve t-shirt under a Pumpkins tour t-shirt, long hair centre parted. Can we say slacker, boys & girls.
Jordy introduced me to the Pumpkins. Jordy got me to play bass, and now I was in a band for the first time. Jordy got me to turn my poetry (yes, I used to write poetry. It sucked balls) into songs. Jordy taught me lots of things.
One day we were both walking about after class to his dorm room. I was telling him about some girl who I thought was cute.
"Why don't you ask her out?" he asked.
"Where to?" I replied.
He looked at me with a blank stare. I didn't realize he wasn't being literal.
Jordy told me what fuck bands were. Jordy taught me how to use a 4-track.
Jordy got me smoking regularly.
Jordy could be an asshole. Jordy could really piss you off. Jordy may sometimes cause you to swing your fists violently at his general direction.
But Jordy was always a buddy.
Now he has his own animation studio. My label will hopefully be releasing his bands first single if Hitz get their frickin' act together (if anyone from Hitz is reading this: seriously, we passed the singles ages ago. One of them's a follow up to a band you've played on air before! I thought you guys supported the locals?!) He has a long-term girlfriend. For once. And he's much less of an asshole since his asshole days.
He no longer wears baggies. He no longer acts like an extra in Clueless. And no matter what's happened over the years, Jordy's still one of the best friends I have to this day.
If it wasn't for him, I'd be passed out on the middle of the road, but I wrote about that already.
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Spider-B!
 This is my bro. He rules. Although, at the time of this picture, he was a pain in the ass. What can you expect? It was the whole terrible two stage. But now he's 4, has some grasp of both english and malay, and spends his evenings watching the Disney channel religiously. I keep trying to turn him onto Cartoon Network, but he prefers Disney. Unless it's Dexter or the Powerpuff girls. Then it's ok. I just wish he'd stop watching Totally Spies. He should be watching manly shows. Like Johnny Bravo. Or I am Weasel.
I worry for the little bugger. Whenever I see him cry because he's being told off or scolded by my parents I know exactly what he's going through, how confused he must be at that point. And let's face facts, I'm hardly ever around. But overall he looks pretty happy.
He should be happier.
Gotta fix a date. Take the kid out for ice-cream, a movie maybe. Take him shopping. Toy shopping. Yeah... no. Have you SEEN how much toys fucking cost these days? Swensens and a movie, that's it.
God, I love the little bugger.
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The CUSU Drama Socety Is Proud To Present: Saj a.k.a. Carlito Q-Tip
 There were originally two photos of the infamous Carlito Q-Tip, simply because the man leads a double life, but I'm a cunt, so I've only posted the one where he looks like capitalist scum.
By day, he's a mild mannered management consultant, and by night, Shoreditch super-hipster extraordinaire. One of the Ta-Dhin collective, an electronica/acoustica musician/DJ with a love for photoshopping ant heads on little children. I can't remember WHY we decided to call him Carlito Q-Tip. I'm sure it has something to do with an amusing anecdote about a Q-Tip, but I can't remember. I'm sure it has nothing to do with his manhood.
Or maybe he just likes to fuck people in the ear.
From the whole City crew, this is the one guy I still keep in contact with. He calls from time to time from his office phone claiming he's talking to important clients in Malaysia.
Interesting story about my man Saj:
At one point in this man's life, Saj was feeling rather down. Actually, that's an understatement. The guy was balls deep in depression over some girl (for reasons we shall not disclose) and, quite frankly, we were all sick of having a Dawson amongst us.
His musical playlist didn't help much, either. There's only so much happiness to be derived from endlessly listening to Tori Amos, Chris Isaac and the Dawson's Creek soundtrack Vol.1.
One day, I pulled him into my room, sat him in front of my laptop and said, "that's it. Listen to this".
A few heavy doses of Blink 182 and other pop-punk pap, and the man began to smile again. In retrospect, I should have realized I may have given him too heavy a dose when he started salivating over Linkin Park.
Oh, well. Could be worse. At least he's not into 'Busted'.
The most level-headed guy in the group, always there when you need a friend, and (during his uni years, at least) scapegoat of gay ambiguity jokes. Not anymore, though. Now he's super confident playa extraordinaire. We should all be so lucky to have a friend like Carlito.
God, that sounds sappy. Where's the creek?
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Golders Green Posse Pt. I: Izzy
 Back in the days when I was a diplobrat (although some would argue that since my father was in Trade and not actual diplomacy work I'm not a diplobrat), most of the Malaysian's living in England for the purpose of working for the government all stayed in the same areas: Hendon was one of them. Golders Green was another.
My house was on Basing Hill. A short walk in one direction lead to the home of the Reza's, since all the men in the family were named 'Reza'. A longer walk in the opposite direction would lead to Andi's house, our resident mat-rocker. Parallel to my street was where Izzy lived.
Have you ever watched 'Friends'? You know that character 'Fun Bobby'? Everybody's got a friend like 'Fun Bobby', the guy that's always the center of the party, the joker, the funny as fuck dude.
That was Izzy.
I remember once Izzy told me imaginary stories of people defecating on the street at a zebra crossing, and the warts popped open and frogs jumped out. I laughed so hard the spaghetti I was eating came out of my nose.
Then there was the time when he used my soft toys and video camera to make amateur smut films centering on a panda bear with the world's hungriest pussy.
And how could I ever forget the time when he came to visit me at my uni and I decided to bring him out for a night on the town. A friend of mine was trying to make a move on this girl. After a little conversation, the girl said,
"Actually, I'm kinda interested in your friend there," and pointed at Izzy.
Turns out the girl was a GCSE student.
After that, Izzy was a wreck. In the kebab shop we poured ketchup on his head and he thought he had a cut. He ran to the toilet. A beat later, we heard a yell from behind the toilet door,
"I'M ALIVE!"
Last I heard the dude was in the Royal Navy, learning how to shoot terrorists and shitting in a plastic bag during recon.
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Shake What Your Mama Gave Ya! Pt. I: Shida
Let's face facts, ladies and gentlemen. Shida was a tease.
Her face had a smile that'd make you swoon, her body had curves that call for carresing, and her naughty bits had a sign that said 'DO NOT ENTER'.
We all tried. She'd flirt and flirt and flirt, and we'd flirt back. But as soon as one of us said something along the lines of, 'Why don't you go out with me?', she got colder than an eskimo's left nut.
Last time I saw her was at the London Hypodrome, that time when Poetic Ammo came to London to open for some vocal group I can't for the life of me remember right now. Anyway, she was there with the boyfriend that she'd been saving herself for, and the man had teeth that would make a horse say, "damn, motherfucker, that's some bad fucking teeth".
I wish I could say more, but I can't.
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