turah-turahan 00.04

So much things happening I feel like I can't keep up (but I still did anyway). Niat sih dulu mau nulis post tentang gigs yang saya tonton, tapi apalah daya tinggal wacana. Prek banget. Mana makin ke sini makin jarang nonton gigs eeeew merasa renta gitu. Hhh, anyhoo, here's sedikit turah-turahan dari sebagian yang telah terlewati. Not in a particular order, I guess. 

Launching album Chick and Soup di Matchamu

Konser Tentang Rasa by Frau. (trimakasi banget Mas Gigih dan Mas Pepi!)

aku dilahirkan di sebuah pesta yang tak pernah selesai 15.13

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Almost all the time, I just want to run, never to stop. I want to be where the lights are. To float within the wind and dust, to breathe that distinct coldness of the night, to disappear along with the shadow. I want to vanish as if I never ever even existed. By the dawn, I will be gone.

"Tuhanku aku terluka dalam keindahan-Mu."

*judul dan baris terakhir oleh Wiji Thukul.

Gelas 22.22

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Sembari aku berharap gelas ini pecah

panas menyengat setiap jengkal telapak tangan, bertanya

apakah kulitku terbakar dan berasap sampai ke tulang tiada kubedakan lagi

Sakit ini melindungi,

sakit ragawi sebenar-benarnya, yang hakiki

Telah penuh tubuhku dengan corak warna, satu dua tiga depa

merah yang kutempuh senantiasa

Detik fana menerka-nerka adakah

kelak nanti semua hanya menjelma noktah

yang tak tercatat pada getir gelisah di petang langit ruang ingatanku

Atau anafora yang tak sedikit saja kukenali padahal Engkau telah

melukisnya pelan saat menghentikan laju semesta lagi-lagi dalam kepalaku

Rasa sakit adalah asing yang familiar jauh di sana

sejauh jarak jemariku dan terang berpendar

seperti kata-kata yang berlari dari puisi

seperti

bayang hujan yang terdistorsi

oleh pekat tak kunjung masap

Memori bersayap mengepak-ngepak

memimpikan terbang meninggalkan runyam pikiran

teriring tembang sayup dalam repertoar pagelaran sanubari pahit

dari gelas kopi kedua yang kusesap sedikit demi sedikit.

17 Okt 2015

to whom it may concern: pt. 3 00.51

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I was reading Krishnamurti's "On Love" on my phone when suddenly I think of you. Perhaps it was his lines or perhaps it was my consciousness. Oh, just so you know, I haven't finished reading it yet because I stopped to write this. Does that make you feel special? Now now, tune down that bloated pride. Because you're not. Well, at least not all the time.

If you know me at all, you'd know that I was always a forgetful person. Heck, I still am. But I remember the very beginning of our friendship. That time so long ago you came to my house and we talked. I have to admit I don't remember most of it, but the image of your arrival somehow stuck in my head.

So, anyway, this letter will mostly contain things left unsaid all this time from my side of the story. 

You are somewhat weird.