Of My Moleskine Notebook

I’m kinda used to it y’know by now. It all started when my sis went off to uni. It was hard to keep in touch ‘cos she was always so busy, because she had other things better to do than answer silly emails, because her MSN was on (away) because she was thousands of miles away and it was normal, but simply because she had reached that age of higher education where you do exciting things and you have to leave some things behind. I’m fine with that. Then two years later, my brother went off, and thats a whole different story; because I didn’t bother writing him any emails or calling. So thats even better.

Earlier this year I found all of you guys leaving me and doing the same things. You don’t bloody call, you hardly message me and of course the MSN is forever on (busy). We keep in touch by posting up accounts of our parallel but separated lives; mine still in school and yours in college. But I’m cool with it, because I’ll give a call once in a while, and you offer to let me borrow your dvds or books.

It’s just that when I say “let’s meet up!”, and you answer enthusiastically on the other end of the line, I know that you know as much as I do it’s quite unlikely we would anytime soon. Maybe during the holidays.

Now, Cik Raja Azlan Shah, you’re leaving to college.

Who am I going to call at three in the morning when Hanis and Adli are asleep? Who’s gonna ring my bloody doorbell with a Mynews.com bag filled with my magazines? Or where else in Malaysia am I gonna get cool magazines like axm or GayTimes? Who’s gonna tell me that I’m not fat and that I look like Kate Moss in Topshop even though its not true? Every single bloody time.

Talking about Topshop; with who else can I just storm into stores checking out the clothes/retail assistants and storm out laughing? Who’s gonna bug me to check out Dior Homme’s Autumn/Winter collection on youtube? Who else nudges me on MSN five times in a row at the most ungodly hour and types like “thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis omg! ?”

Who the fuck gets an idea to celebrate his best friend’s birthday with a chocolate cake in the goddamn school clinic? Who the hell can wrestle the bloody key to the clinic from Kok Hou, anyway?

Who’s gonna say really funny things like “gila bapak HOT SIAL” or “sekian sekali sekejap aaaaa!” or call me Joyah, Kenyah, Bedah? Who the hell can feign the same pseudo-ultra-malay sarcasm once in a while just for the fun of it, because he can?
Who am I gonna dance with on the grass barefooted at Alliance Francaise during the Fete de La Musique?

Who am I gonna sing theme songs from Lost in Translation with while its being played on a MotoRazr at the back of a yellow cab on the New Pantai Expressway?
Who’s gonna keep me company and cheer me up in such a weird manner when I’m depressed? Or give me all the support during hard times, whether its family or school, or drama and read my writing eventhough its tiring work? Who’s gonna borrow my vest and my kilt and whose Vans can I fit? Who am I gonna turn to for dance music?

What the fuck am I gonna do with this packet of Dunhill Lights? Who the heck am I gonna smoke this with if I suddenly break my bet? Who’s fag am I gonna be tempted to drag on if we ever go out to KL again for a gig?

And you know what? Eventhough I hate myself for not giving a proper goodbye; My Best Friend is Leaving Post is way better than Jiar’s or whoever that’s written such a thing.

Because six paragraphs down and I still have so so much to say.

I love you man. And it kills me to think that you’re not gonna have time for us all when you come back from college because then I won’t be able to say or do those things that we usually do.

And if you do become like the others, you can just fuck off. <3