A crack in paradise

Let this be a somewhat more lucid translation of my previous post.

Cracks, paradise. It's all right there.

Because it is kinda a weird here in Kuala Lumpur. Weird because it’s so normal. Time and space seem to have been stuffed in a big gelatin pudding. When you stick your finger in, things bobble a bit, but if you leave the pudding alone, everything is just kinda suspended in midair.

And I’m not just talking fuzzy-metaphysical here. Simply put: there is no time! The Mac Donald’s-ses haven’t changed since the middle ages. The temperature is always exactly level. Leaves don’t fall from the trees. The worldwide economy slump doesn’t affect this place. Things here are exactly the same as when I first arrived. It really seems like I have been whisked away to some alternate reality that has not moved on from the eighties. But with iPads on sale before launch date.

Hot pants and headscarves

Also this country seems to be of nobody. The Malays will say Chinese call the shots. The Chinese will say the Malays call the shots. And the Indians are never asked. Not that I see many Malays or Indians in my building. In my apartment building it’s mostly Middle-Eastern immigrants.

No cracks. And paradise is white of course.

In the malls the Chinese girls in hot pants cross path with the headscarved Malays a gazillion times a day. And the all-out burka isn’t an uncommon sight. They might disapprove of each-other but they don’t bash each-others face in. They’re used to the view. But I was shocked! Because there are also not-normal things here. There are LOTS of schmoozing couples that display their open affection in the air-conditioned complexes. It strikes me as horribly obscene after having assimilated the right way after two years. Not good-old Nepali values at all. Get your hands off her shoulder boy! And get that dirty grin off your face. I’ll call her brother. I will!

And I was all for declaring Malaysia nice and with it (so that would be my values system) but then I read three women have recently been caned for fucking around. Under Sharia law mind. Not under law law. First time in Malaysia (for this kind of flogging that is). Another almost got a good caning for drinking beer. ‘Oh, come on, it’s just a bit of ass whooping,’ you say. She is a Muslim. She knew what she was getting into. She must have wanted some caning. But I dunno. I’m not so very much for caning.

Getting things done

As for my personal situation, I’m still doubting if Malaysia perhaps isn’t the waiting room for heaven. Not because of the caning of course. But because it’s got this stilted feel to it. I especially suspect this when I go from our work-apartment to my sleep-apartment two stairs below. The stairway is so white and long, and it would explain why there are so many nationalities here. This isn’t Europe or Asia. This is some generic form of capitalism. The Platonic ideal, but almost, because it still moves a little when you push the gelatin around.

Perhaps I am just supposed to recoup myself in this limbo. Is that the grand plan? What should I make of me in this last days of Asia? I feel like a caged puppy trampling with anticipation to be let loose upon the upperty shores of Europe. And I’m in for a good brain-reshaping, to go with the utter reshaping of my conditions. Match them up a bit. Do some purification. But how? Who? I would like to go into the Lord, but I think he doesn’t exist. Buddha seemed like a nice guy, but he is a bit too gloomy for my tastes. Sixties self-help books? I’m ok, you’re ok. So passé.

This is the point where I will let you in on my darkest secret. I am strangely attracted to this book called ‘Getting things done’. Like a moth to an laptop screen. It teaches you ‘how to be maximally efficient and relaxed, whenever you want or need to be’. It’s got sentences like ‘Clarify new divisional management structure’ and ‘Implement new investment strategy’. Not exactly sentences that make you want to keep on reading the book. Or keep it in one piece. But then in between the lines it wants you to dump all your responsibilities in lists. And then let them rule you.

So it feels like religion, and it’s even got scripture. But it’s like you’re in on the joke. You write your own commandments and then you let go and believe. And your heart fills up with relief and acceptance. I once tried something home-grown in this area, but I was weak. Not ok. It seems like I need help from above. Getting Things Done.

Yea, so that book has been lingering untouched on my night-stand for a few weeks now. I’ll glance at it for a while, but then turn back to the ceiling. Waiting for lolcats to fall down. Or muppets, as was my childhood recurring nightmare. In any case I’m not getting getting things done done. And I don’t know how to end this post.

Maybe there is nothing to be done anymore. Maybe I should just let go. Let the TL-light guide me upwards. Slowly… lift my hands from the keyboard.

2 Responses to “A crack in paradise”

  1. July 10, 2010 at 11:32 pm

    Try this one sir… shure you will love it for your GTD lists


  2. 2 tiezemans
    July 12, 2010 at 5:36 pm

    Thanks, but in the process of continually proving to myself I’m a nerd I have found the totally amazing Emacs track-your-todo-stuff add-on called ORG-mode. Also mangleable towards GTD. Get on the geek train to nerd-city:


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July 2010

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