Thank you Boss!

Am i long-winded?

Long-winded: the inability to use an economy of words....

I've been churning out opinions like nobody's business for the past 3 weeks...

but today was the first time for Big K... "Alah bro... long-winded sangat..."

I've always been a believer in descriptive writing... it brings the reader into the realm of the writer... I guess it doesn't work that way in my line of work....

take this for example: "Therefore, your client's claims on the above basis are unfounded"

This is what I wrote: "Therefore, we are of the view that your client’s claims for rentals for the remaining unexpired tenancy period and all other costs and expenses arising from the premature termination including solicitors’ costs on a solicitor and client basis for the recovery of the rental(s) due and /or for seeking a new tenant is unfounded and baseless.
Furthermore, from the circumstances, it is evidently clear that your client is now attempting to renege on its contractual bargain with regards to the early termination of the Agreement."

Hmmm... I guess it was a bit too long.... :)

Well Big K did say it was alright and I should develop my style as the months pass... but I guess if you can put it in print in 3 pages, why would you need 6.

I don't know.... should I cut out on the lyrical gymnastics and keep it short? It's kind of boring isn't it?

Who am I to decide... "don't worry bro... aku punye England taklah bagus sangat... apa kau nak tambah, kau tambah..."

Thanks Boss....

A letter to my father

Hello,

Daddy.

You know, I remember a lifetime ago I was about three and a half feet tall, weighing only 12 kilos, but every inch your son. Those Saturday mornings, going to work with my dad and we'd pile into that big, grey Pajero.

I thought that Pajero was the... was the biggest car in the universe, Daddy. I remember how important the job you did was. How, if it weren't for you, people couldn't fill their cars with petrol. I thought you were the best man in the world.

Remember the times, when Mummy would try to bake cakes? Ice creams, football games, playing badminton.... the day I left for KL only to come home with the UIA chasing after me, that DEAN... When she had to chastise me, you said, "That's where you belong, finish what you started."

That was a good one, Daddy. That was really something. You remember that? And that time you told me that money wasn't real? Well, daddy, I'm 25 years old and I've finally realised what you were trying to tell me years ago.

I finally understand. You're the best, Daddy. I just wish I could've done more for you.

Anyway, may the wind always be at your back, and the sun always upon your face, and the winds of destiny to carry you aloft, to dance with the stars. I love you, Dad.

Love,
Azmi

I'm watching...

Alright, what I do is.. I watch people.

Do you ever watch someone who doesn't know that your..watchin' 'em?

An old lady on a street corner, or some girls hanging out at the mamak, or some guy at the 24-hour convenience store?

Well, they stand there and you look, and all of a sudden this -- flash comes over them, and you know it has nothing to do with anything external, because that hasn't changed.

They just suddenly become realer and more alive. If you look at someone long enough, you can discover their humanity...

when I'm CROSS

My mother says when I am cross
As I am now and then,
It’s better not to talk at all,But count inside, to ten.
‘Cos if you do it slowlyJust like this: one, two, three, four!

By the time you’ve finished,You’re not angry anymore!
It sounds all right, but then somehow,It doesn’t work with me,
And when I’ve counted up to tenI’m cross as I can be.

And so I’ve found another way,I whisper very low,And so that no one else can hear

The rudest words I know:Bother, bloomin’, hang and drat,Female, blazes, beast and cat.

Golly, blinkin’, pig and mug,Spit and stomach, bosh and slug.

When I’ve said all these I findI can feel quite good and kind.Aunt Jane comes to stay with us,She’s awfully tall and thin.

She always makes me very cross,As soon as she comes in.Because she says ‘Now don’t do that’And ‘Don’t make such a noise’She says ‘Be seen and never heard’s The rule for little boys.’

She tells me not to slam the door, And not to tease the cat, And ‘Don’t speak with your mouth full, child’And silly things like that.

I often think I’d like to throwAn ink pot at her head.But then I’d get in such a row,And so I say instead:-Bother, bloomin’, hang and drat,Female, blazes, beast and cat.Golly, blinkin’, pig and mug,Spit and stomach, bosh and slug, Then I say it all again,Out loud I say ‘Yes, aunt Jane.’I know you won’t believe it, But I’ve seen it, - and it’s real!

My mummy’s bought a baby girl

Imagine how I feel.It’s not a nice one, either‘Cos it’s ugly, and it’s bald.It’s not the leastest bit of good,It won’t come when it’s called.If she’d only bought a puppyWell, that wouldn’t be half bad!But to go and waste her pennies on a baby – makes me mad!

When I first heard about itI hid down in the shed
At the bottom of the garden,
And right out loud I said:-Bother, bloomin’, hang and drat,Female, blazes, beast and cat.
Golly, blinkin’, pig and mug, Spit and stomach, bosh and slug.I said another one as well,I’d better spell this H-E-L!

Minyak mentah

What do you think of petrol station owners?

You think they're saints? Hah! They're foxy beasts! They say, "We've got no diesel, we've got no petrol. We've got nothing!"

But they have! They have everything! Dig under the floors! Or search the offices! You'll find plenty! barrels and barrels of oil! Look in the valleys, they've got hidden warehouses! They pose as saints but are full of lies!

If they smell a battle, they hunt the defeated! They're nothing but stingy, greedy, blubbering, foxy, and mean! God damn it all! But then who made them such beasts?

You did! You consumers did it! You burn their oil! Raise the prices! Steal their food! Force them to labour! Take their women! And kill them if they resist! So what should they do?

It's FRANK again...

Allow me to be frank at the commencement.

You will not like me. The gentlemen will be envious and the ladies will be repelled.

You will not like me now and you will like me a good deal less as we go on. Ladies, an announcement: I am up for it, all the time. That is not a boast or an opinion, it is bone hard medical fact.

I put it round you know. And you will watch me putting it round and sigh for it. Don't.

It is a deal of trouble for you and you are better off watching and drawing your conclusions from a distance than you would be if I got my tarse up your petticoats.

Gentlemen. Do not despair, I am up for that as well. And the same warning applies. Still your cheesy erections till I have had my say. But later when you shag - and later you will shag, I shall expect it of you and I will know if you have let me down - I wish you to shag with my homuncular image rattling in your gonads.

Feel how it was for me, how it is for me and ponder. "Was that shudder the same shudder he sensed? Did he know something more profound? Or is there some wall of wretchedness that we all batter with our heads at that shining , livelong moment."

That is it. That is my prologue, nothing in rhyme, no protestations of modesty, you were not expecting that I hope. I am Haizul Azmi Dzulkafli... Advocate and Solicitor of the High Court of Malaya, and I do not want you to like me.

Play me like a Volin... please... baby yeah

Every woman is a mystery to be solved, but a woman hides nothing from a true lover.

Her skin color can tell us how to proceed. A hue like the blush of a rose, pink and pale, and she must be coaxed to open her petals with a warmth like the sun. The pale and dappled skin of a redhead calls for the lust of a wave crashing to the shore so we may stir up what lies beneath her and bring up the foamy delight of love to the surface.

Although there is no metaphor that truly describes making love to a woman, the closest is playing a rare musical instrument.

I wonder...does a Stradivarius violin feel the same rapture as the violinist when he coaxes a single perfect note from its heart?