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We Are Nowhere And It's Wow
Mikael Johani was not born in Rochester, New York, in 1927 and was never educated at Harvard or Columbia universities. He has not written nineteen previous book of poetry. Never has been and never will be Charles P. Stevenson, Jr., Professor of Language and Literature at Bard College, he does not live in New York City and Hudson, New York. His poetry is not a rigorous searched for "the unknown" – but still based on a "reasoned disordering of all the senses" by means of alcohol and, when money allows, [ ].
"We Are Nowhere And It's Wow" is his first poetry collection.
Quote from the intro, "Electrux":
"... home was Australia now, so i thought,
a basement flat atop the Harold Park Paceway,
a first-storey flat with covered parking
around the corner from the Bondi market
(a cut on summer cricket games would net you
a rubbish bin), the zen suburbia of Duffy, ACT.
that home will be eternalised in poetry.
Lowell, Carlos Williams, Pound,
Berman, Page, Yu, Kim, O'Hara,
Bishop, Kasturi, Char, Kocan, Logue,
Zara, Situmorang (both of them),
Heraty, Malna, theirs and mine.
that how was now away. this away was now home.
we are nowhere, and it is now,
thank you, Conor Oberst."
"We Are Nowhere And It's Wow" is his first poetry collection.
Quote from the intro, "Electrux":
"... home was Australia now, so i thought,
a basement flat atop the Harold Park Paceway,
a first-storey flat with covered parking
around the corner from the Bondi market
(a cut on summer cricket games would net you
a rubbish bin), the zen suburbia of Duffy, ACT.
that home will be eternalised in poetry.
Lowell, Carlos Williams, Pound,
Berman, Page, Yu, Kim, O'Hara,
Bishop, Kasturi, Char, Kocan, Logue,
Zara, Situmorang (both of them),
Heraty, Malna, theirs and mine.
that how was now away. this away was now home.
we are nowhere, and it is now,
thank you, Conor Oberst."
- GenresPoetry
90 pages, Paperback
First published October 17, 2008
10 people are currently reading
111 people want to read
About the author
Mikael Johani
8 books87 followersMikael Johani’s latest book of poetry, Mongrel Kampung, is published by Ugly Duckling Presse. His poems, translations, and essays were published in other people’s windows: new writing across the Asia-Pacific, to let the light in, Poems by Sunday, The Poetry Project Newsletter, The Book of Jakarta, #UntitledThree, On Relationships, Asymptote, The Johannesburg Review of Books, AJAR, Vice, Kerja Tangan, Popteori, and others. He was a writer-in-residence in the Writers Immersion and Cultural Exchange (WrICE) programme in 2022. He lives in Jakarta, Indonesia, where he organises the monthly spoken word night Paviliun Puisi.
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
February 25, 2021
Pernah ada yang berkata: "Mikael Johani eats Rupi Kaur for breakfast." Barangkali dapat dikatakan benar demikian, sebab dalam buku puisi ini ada beberapa puisi yang memiiliki makna langsung--mudah sekali didapatkan, meski tidak semuanya. Singkatnya, dapat dikatakan Mike jauh melampaui materi personal Rupi Kaur, tapi dapat bermain dengan gaya puisi yang avant-garde.
Untuk dapat paham apa yang disampaikan oleh Mike di dalam buku puisi ini, perlu juga untuk memerhatikan apa yang disampaikan oleh Post Press selaku penerbit buku ini, tanpa membaca penjelasan tersebut, rasanya sukar untuk mendapatkan makna dalam puisinya. Puisi-puisi ini telah hadir sebelumnya, dan terbit ulang dalam bentuk yang lebih dewasa dan matang secara materi. Walaupun begitu, metafor yang digunakan tidak muluk-muluk, penggunaan metafor yang direct atau langsung, jujur, dan ditarik dari pengalaman pribadi dalam penulisannya memberikan kesan yang hangat dan seperti menggema dalam pikiran pembaca, di antara pembaca.
Satu catatan yang perlu diakui, puisi-puisi dalam buku ini lekat dengan suasana nostalgia kota metropolitan dan perasaan asing. Jadi, sebenarnya sedikit susah untuk mengerti bagaimana perasaan tersebut jika pembaca tidak memiliki kedekatan emosional dengan kota-kota metropolitan. Beruntung, saya pernah di suatu waktu berkunjung ke Surabaya, melihat bagaimana kehidupan serba cepat berjalan. Mungkin agak lain ceritanya ketika buku ini dibaca dengan teman-teman yang hidup di daerah yang lebih "lamban". Hal tersebut yang saya jadikan kerangka acuan untuk dapat memahami puisi-puisi di dalam buku ini, tanpa pengalaman satu minggu saya tersebut, saya yakin saya pun kebingungan memahami apa yang dibicarakan Mike.
Bagi saya, Mike lebih mengarah pada 'bertutur' ketimbang menulis puisi, seolah-olah Mike datang ke sebuah kedai kopi, dan menceritakan pengalaman-pengalamannya perihal obrolan dengan supir taksi, dan ucapan-ucapan Gong Xi Fa Chai yang entah bagaimana menuliskannya dengan benar. Ciri khas stilistik Mike yang bermain-main dengan budaya bahasa Bilingual, memperlihatkan bagaimana bahasa menjadi suatu media yang cair dan eksperimental.
Buku ini juga memberikan semacam simpul senyum yang khas di muka saya--tidak cheesy, namun seperti perasaan yang berkata "Anjrit, mirip, nih dengan kejadian dulu." Puisi yang dihidangkan dalam buku ini menempatkan penyair di sepatu yang berbeda dari penyair kebanyakan, yaitu sepatu orang-orang biasa yang melihat hal-hal biasa, dan menuliskan hal remeh-temeh di sekitarnya, barangkali, sebagai bentuk apresiasinya terhadap kehidupan yang entah dan wow ini. Menyegarkan untuk dapat melihat lagi penyair yang memberanikan diri menulis dengan kejujuran, dan ciri yang khas.
Sebagai penutup, buku ini tidak seperti kelihatannya. Tidak melulu berisi krisis eksistensialis, kegundahan masa muda, dan lain sebagainya. Buku ini tampak seperti gambaran bagaimana mencari akar diri, dan senantiasa berpegang teguh pada hal tersebut.
Untuk dapat paham apa yang disampaikan oleh Mike di dalam buku puisi ini, perlu juga untuk memerhatikan apa yang disampaikan oleh Post Press selaku penerbit buku ini, tanpa membaca penjelasan tersebut, rasanya sukar untuk mendapatkan makna dalam puisinya. Puisi-puisi ini telah hadir sebelumnya, dan terbit ulang dalam bentuk yang lebih dewasa dan matang secara materi. Walaupun begitu, metafor yang digunakan tidak muluk-muluk, penggunaan metafor yang direct atau langsung, jujur, dan ditarik dari pengalaman pribadi dalam penulisannya memberikan kesan yang hangat dan seperti menggema dalam pikiran pembaca, di antara pembaca.
Satu catatan yang perlu diakui, puisi-puisi dalam buku ini lekat dengan suasana nostalgia kota metropolitan dan perasaan asing. Jadi, sebenarnya sedikit susah untuk mengerti bagaimana perasaan tersebut jika pembaca tidak memiliki kedekatan emosional dengan kota-kota metropolitan. Beruntung, saya pernah di suatu waktu berkunjung ke Surabaya, melihat bagaimana kehidupan serba cepat berjalan. Mungkin agak lain ceritanya ketika buku ini dibaca dengan teman-teman yang hidup di daerah yang lebih "lamban". Hal tersebut yang saya jadikan kerangka acuan untuk dapat memahami puisi-puisi di dalam buku ini, tanpa pengalaman satu minggu saya tersebut, saya yakin saya pun kebingungan memahami apa yang dibicarakan Mike.
Bagi saya, Mike lebih mengarah pada 'bertutur' ketimbang menulis puisi, seolah-olah Mike datang ke sebuah kedai kopi, dan menceritakan pengalaman-pengalamannya perihal obrolan dengan supir taksi, dan ucapan-ucapan Gong Xi Fa Chai yang entah bagaimana menuliskannya dengan benar. Ciri khas stilistik Mike yang bermain-main dengan budaya bahasa Bilingual, memperlihatkan bagaimana bahasa menjadi suatu media yang cair dan eksperimental.
Buku ini juga memberikan semacam simpul senyum yang khas di muka saya--tidak cheesy, namun seperti perasaan yang berkata "Anjrit, mirip, nih dengan kejadian dulu." Puisi yang dihidangkan dalam buku ini menempatkan penyair di sepatu yang berbeda dari penyair kebanyakan, yaitu sepatu orang-orang biasa yang melihat hal-hal biasa, dan menuliskan hal remeh-temeh di sekitarnya, barangkali, sebagai bentuk apresiasinya terhadap kehidupan yang entah dan wow ini. Menyegarkan untuk dapat melihat lagi penyair yang memberanikan diri menulis dengan kejujuran, dan ciri yang khas.
Sebagai penutup, buku ini tidak seperti kelihatannya. Tidak melulu berisi krisis eksistensialis, kegundahan masa muda, dan lain sebagainya. Buku ini tampak seperti gambaran bagaimana mencari akar diri, dan senantiasa berpegang teguh pada hal tersebut.
May 30, 2022
I remember in 3rd semester, I know nothing about this book (very Safira-esquely, asal aja), casually just bought it because I liked the title and dark color on the cover. That was the best naive decision I made.
Waktu itu, sudah naif, bloon pula! So I’d like to apologize for my naive decision and very shallow, basic knowledge about literature. I.. uhm, I put it down when I first read it in my room. I thought the poems are so personal, too personal that I didn't get them.
It slipped somewhere in my book stacks, about 1-2 years, until last week I found it. Time flies, hear, hear. Now the yellow bookpaper got yellowish stains, as if they aged really well in a foreign stacks. But, God Bless, I came to Post Santa (again, and again I guess I'll never get tired of it). I heard @mekitron--Mikael Johani himself announcing about the re-stock of his bookz.
Jeder! I was immediately thrown to my home and began to find the only deep violet cover on my stacks. And yesterday, I finished to re-read this stunning book for one reason. Because it is a personal artwork of him, and there's a piece of JakartㅡJaksel here and there. I just realized we shared the same jakselnese!
Johani's poems are mostly, very attached to time, space, place, and people. Be it Paris, Chinatown, Bali, Kemang, in Angkot, Sydney, a bar, or Blok M. There always be place for his poems. The reason why I put this down, simply because the language. The weird thing is, we're both Indonesian. Based in Jaksel. But there's one major differences, lies on our tongue. We don't speak in the same class. That was straight up a big, giant gap for me to read/understand his poems. I guess was just guessing in my first read.
I don’t speak in Kemenggris. I speak in Bahasa Indonesia and English, that was composed in my small town or can I translate it as ‘kampung kumuh.’ Jaksel in my dictionary, consist of Rempoa, Bintaro without sector, and Kebayoran Lama. To get into my house, I have to get into a small alley. Jaksel was a tiny piece of city to me, yet it gets bigger as I start to explore it.
Sebegitunya kaget gue baca buku ini karena bingung sama Jaksel, bahkan Jakarta in general. I have to admit, Kemang, Cikini, Blok M, and other sparkly new places is NEW to me. Jakarta Selatan really is that big, I spent my 19 years old wasted inside my small alley, my small mind.
Bayangin, gue asalnya dari kampung betawi kecil, menerka untuk ngerti kehidupan “Jakarta” yang bukan Jakarta gue. Gue jadi penasaran: berapa banyak versi Jakarta bagi 10 penduduk Jakarta yang lain? Buku Johani mungkin baru satu dari sekian banyak Jakarta yang terlukis lewat kata-kata.
Gue terkesima sama perbedaan dalam kesamaan, lebih sering miris. Ya, gue ngerti di bagian ketika Johani cerita tentang angkot, di dalam taxi, gue tau di mana Plaza Senayan. Tapi pertanyaannya: apa gue pernah merasakan hal lain yang ditawarkan Johani? Rasanya langka, makanya gue lebih sering menerka-nerka.
Ada beberapa puisi Johani yang relate ke basic gue sebagai mahasiswi kEhUtAnanN. Seperti di “Hear,” “De kurk waarop Djakarta drijft,” dan satu lagi judul puisi yang gue gak inget judulnya ngebahas daun pohon karet yang majemuk menjari tiga. Anjay, akhirnya kepake juga ilmu Dendrologi gue!
Regardless of what I felt, sampai akhir gue merasa canggung sama buku ini, karena identitas (kelas, tempat, waktu, usia) yang melekat di diri gue saat baca buku ini belum “tek-tok,” mungkin nanti buku bisa resonate ketika gue merasakan “Jakarta” yang itu. Bisa jadi gue akan lebih jatuh cinta sama buku ini.
Gue rasa pembawaan Johani dalam puisinya seperti cerita dan beda dari puisi yang biasa gue baca (btw jenis bacaan puisi gue dikit banget). Gue suka banget. Johani ngajarin gue cara menulis yang baru dan bikin gue untuk nulis makin liar dan berani. Selama ini gue nulis dengan kenaifan tanpa inget dosa, paling serius ya, beberapa kali konsulin puisi atau artikel ke dosen Bahasa.
We Are Nowhere and It’s Wow.
Wow. Baca selintas tentang puisi-puisinya Johani, wawancaranya di Vice, dan biodata Linkedinnya yang gue bisa jadiin motto ketika nulis “The goal is always to ignore language and get straight at LYF.“
Waktu itu, sudah naif, bloon pula! So I’d like to apologize for my naive decision and very shallow, basic knowledge about literature. I.. uhm, I put it down when I first read it in my room. I thought the poems are so personal, too personal that I didn't get them.
It slipped somewhere in my book stacks, about 1-2 years, until last week I found it. Time flies, hear, hear. Now the yellow bookpaper got yellowish stains, as if they aged really well in a foreign stacks. But, God Bless, I came to Post Santa (again, and again I guess I'll never get tired of it). I heard @mekitron--Mikael Johani himself announcing about the re-stock of his bookz.
Jeder! I was immediately thrown to my home and began to find the only deep violet cover on my stacks. And yesterday, I finished to re-read this stunning book for one reason. Because it is a personal artwork of him, and there's a piece of JakartㅡJaksel here and there. I just realized we shared the same jakselnese!
Johani's poems are mostly, very attached to time, space, place, and people. Be it Paris, Chinatown, Bali, Kemang, in Angkot, Sydney, a bar, or Blok M. There always be place for his poems. The reason why I put this down, simply because the language. The weird thing is, we're both Indonesian. Based in Jaksel. But there's one major differences, lies on our tongue. We don't speak in the same class. That was straight up a big, giant gap for me to read/understand his poems. I guess was just guessing in my first read.
I don’t speak in Kemenggris. I speak in Bahasa Indonesia and English, that was composed in my small town or can I translate it as ‘kampung kumuh.’ Jaksel in my dictionary, consist of Rempoa, Bintaro without sector, and Kebayoran Lama. To get into my house, I have to get into a small alley. Jaksel was a tiny piece of city to me, yet it gets bigger as I start to explore it.
Sebegitunya kaget gue baca buku ini karena bingung sama Jaksel, bahkan Jakarta in general. I have to admit, Kemang, Cikini, Blok M, and other sparkly new places is NEW to me. Jakarta Selatan really is that big, I spent my 19 years old wasted inside my small alley, my small mind.
Bayangin, gue asalnya dari kampung betawi kecil, menerka untuk ngerti kehidupan “Jakarta” yang bukan Jakarta gue. Gue jadi penasaran: berapa banyak versi Jakarta bagi 10 penduduk Jakarta yang lain? Buku Johani mungkin baru satu dari sekian banyak Jakarta yang terlukis lewat kata-kata.
Gue terkesima sama perbedaan dalam kesamaan, lebih sering miris. Ya, gue ngerti di bagian ketika Johani cerita tentang angkot, di dalam taxi, gue tau di mana Plaza Senayan. Tapi pertanyaannya: apa gue pernah merasakan hal lain yang ditawarkan Johani? Rasanya langka, makanya gue lebih sering menerka-nerka.
Ada beberapa puisi Johani yang relate ke basic gue sebagai mahasiswi kEhUtAnanN. Seperti di “Hear,” “De kurk waarop Djakarta drijft,” dan satu lagi judul puisi yang gue gak inget judulnya ngebahas daun pohon karet yang majemuk menjari tiga. Anjay, akhirnya kepake juga ilmu Dendrologi gue!
Regardless of what I felt, sampai akhir gue merasa canggung sama buku ini, karena identitas (kelas, tempat, waktu, usia) yang melekat di diri gue saat baca buku ini belum “tek-tok,” mungkin nanti buku bisa resonate ketika gue merasakan “Jakarta” yang itu. Bisa jadi gue akan lebih jatuh cinta sama buku ini.
Gue rasa pembawaan Johani dalam puisinya seperti cerita dan beda dari puisi yang biasa gue baca (btw jenis bacaan puisi gue dikit banget). Gue suka banget. Johani ngajarin gue cara menulis yang baru dan bikin gue untuk nulis makin liar dan berani. Selama ini gue nulis dengan kenaifan tanpa inget dosa, paling serius ya, beberapa kali konsulin puisi atau artikel ke dosen Bahasa.
We Are Nowhere and It’s Wow.
Wow. Baca selintas tentang puisi-puisinya Johani, wawancaranya di Vice, dan biodata Linkedinnya yang gue bisa jadiin motto ketika nulis “The goal is always to ignore language and get straight at LYF.“
October 24, 2008
Seperti biasa, terdampar selalu jadi episode aneh dalam hidupku jika si Dia menyediakan sebuah buku. Seperti terdampar di salah satu tempat tidur volunteer Ubud Writers n Readers Festival 2008 lalu, yang membuatku berkenalan dengan buku puisi ini. Saya baca abis puisi-puisi tentang Wiji Thukul-nya.
Asyik,unik, hening, dan meditatif. Thank you.
Asyik,unik, hening, dan meditatif. Thank you.
November 24, 2022
Udah lama kepengen baca ini, dan akhirnya kesampaian juga. Puisi tentang pembicaraan dengan supir taksi dan prelude di awal, jadi puisi yang paling banyak dikenang.
April 30, 2020
Mikael eats Rupi Kaur for breakfast.
January 13, 2020
I couldn't help smiling ear-to-ear reading this. Oh, don't mention that, even the bio in the back got me right from the start!
Got a lil bit sense of Bukowski's influences here and there. Fresh, brave, careless - sometimes agonizing but fresh, still. I love how Mikael connected his poems and his stories in-between the cities. Personally, I always love poems about Jakarta - this mad city does crack the poets inside us.
Some of my favorite bits:
1.
34-days after election day
the poles remind us
of what the people
had decided
they hang
limp
from the earth's surface
like toothpicks
stuck
to the brown-grey gums
of the earth-
god who had forgotten
to clean
his teeth
pull out the signs
when the moment was over-
time was when
people did not
decide
there were no signs
sticking into the sand--
2.
Starbucks Djakarta Theatre at 2.37 a.m.
Chinamen slurped green cream
argued the length of the plastic cups
Short, Tall, which way
to end the day, Grande?
There are too many things to describe in this city
and no space left
to make something real out of imagined images.
An old man grew Ho Chi Minh's beard
outside the silver din of the 24-hour
McDonald's and patted a grey cat.
Inside other cats wait for men with
fat wallets to take them to their bachelor pads,
retrofitted with silver disco balls and
corrugated iron roof - fashionable
accoutrements of you, you and you.
The 37-degree heat kills everything
inside and outside an idea
before it had time
to begin.
Got a lil bit sense of Bukowski's influences here and there. Fresh, brave, careless - sometimes agonizing but fresh, still. I love how Mikael connected his poems and his stories in-between the cities. Personally, I always love poems about Jakarta - this mad city does crack the poets inside us.
Some of my favorite bits:
1.
34-days after election day
the poles remind us
of what the people
had decided
they hang
limp
from the earth's surface
like toothpicks
stuck
to the brown-grey gums
of the earth-
god who had forgotten
to clean
his teeth
pull out the signs
when the moment was over-
time was when
people did not
decide
there were no signs
sticking into the sand--
2.
Starbucks Djakarta Theatre at 2.37 a.m.
Chinamen slurped green cream
argued the length of the plastic cups
Short, Tall, which way
to end the day, Grande?
There are too many things to describe in this city
and no space left
to make something real out of imagined images.
An old man grew Ho Chi Minh's beard
outside the silver din of the 24-hour
McDonald's and patted a grey cat.
Inside other cats wait for men with
fat wallets to take them to their bachelor pads,
retrofitted with silver disco balls and
corrugated iron roof - fashionable
accoutrements of you, you and you.
The 37-degree heat kills everything
inside and outside an idea
before it had time
to begin.
September 8, 2024
A confession: The book has been on the shelf for what feels like forever, but I finally manage to read it. Even though, I already read of his several essays, poem on his blog. Also, I've known Mike for his works to Indonesia literature, especially in building Paviliun Puisi.
This poetry collection is very honest, alluring, imaginative, and explorative. It was pleasant experience reading this poem, and in fact, sent my mind hurdling to be here and there according Mike referential places & others pop culture. And I don't why, in his poem, I can see someone who is lonely, yet wiser one to face this cruel, nasty, but elegant vibrant and remarkable world.
However, I also found that some poems are not related to me and seems it is far from a daily basis of Indonesian--at least for me. But, that what makes this poetry, I don't know what the exact word to describe it, but let me say it with my own make up words = supakewl.
This poetry collection is very honest, alluring, imaginative, and explorative. It was pleasant experience reading this poem, and in fact, sent my mind hurdling to be here and there according Mike referential places & others pop culture. And I don't why, in his poem, I can see someone who is lonely, yet wiser one to face this cruel, nasty, but elegant vibrant and remarkable world.
However, I also found that some poems are not related to me and seems it is far from a daily basis of Indonesian--at least for me. But, that what makes this poetry, I don't know what the exact word to describe it, but let me say it with my own make up words = supakewl.
March 11, 2020
The epilogue by the publisher, POST Press, is really helps me to understand the poem. As a person who barely enjoy reading poem, I found myself usually trapped in beautiful phrases without understand the meaning behind it. I didn’t find it at Mikael's poem, as he use a direct, personal experience and honesty in his writing. I guess it is true that the beauty of the poem lies in the way they moves us. And I found that the raw and bare depiction on his writing echoes the way I think and feel about Jakarta. Btw this isn’t a typical of teenage angst - life crisis - poems as I thought the first time reading the title of the book.
May 6, 2025
Several lines caught and held me, which is all i ask of poetry. I wasnt fluent in all the references this collection tosses and whirls (see: Amanda Lee Koe’s Sister Snake), but in enough of them that the taxonomies of home/away, east/west, high art/pop culture/low art were discernible and somewhat navigable. The collection felt familiar to southeast asian angst (in the best way); and i loved the post press note that ended and illuminated the collection and its editing as a whole.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 15, 2018
Buku ini membuat saya mampu memaknai hal-hal kecil yang sebetulnya kita jumpai sehari-hari. Pemaknaan tentang pembicaraan di dalam taksi, bulu di betis yang baru tumbuh, logo sebuah mesin cuci yang rumpang, dan detail-detail lainnya, terasa amat dekat.
Untuk saya, tiap halaman baru lebih terasa seperti topik obrolan yang kaya makna. Dan saya amat menikmati obrolan tersebut dengan karya ini.
Untuk saya, tiap halaman baru lebih terasa seperti topik obrolan yang kaya makna. Dan saya amat menikmati obrolan tersebut dengan karya ini.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 10, 2021
This book shout loud to me that home, heaven, and hell is a state of mind. “Catch tygers in red weather” is my 1st favorite, and “I wasn’t the one who shot down Saint-Ex, rapelle-moi!” Is my 2nd fav.
October 25, 2008
mau baca mau baca mau baca mau baca...
*kirimin dong, mik!*
-----------------------------------------------
hore! saya punya limited editionnya :D
*kirimin dong, mik!*
-----------------------------------------------
hore! saya punya limited editionnya :D
October 20, 2017
Hmm, I really need to learn how to appreciate a poetry book. I do enjoy it. I just don't know I did a proper read. How do you read a poetry book?
August 9, 2020
my fav is djaelani the baker and transcript with taxi driver 😬😬
November 11, 2021
love the "under desk"
January 20, 2022
"time was when people did not decide
there were no signs
sticking into the sand"
.
the first book of poems i read, pas baca kayak lagi mengitari Jakarta 🤍
there were no signs
sticking into the sand"
.
the first book of poems i read, pas baca kayak lagi mengitari Jakarta 🤍
August 31, 2023
apa itu daya ungkap? when the poet knew what blue smells like yang ternyata wangi eucalyptus alias gum tree
August 25, 2024
3.5
I particularly enjoyed the ending note by the publisher, putting this collection into perspective for me.
Quotes:
Page 14:
‘The fences ran through the land like arteries. They’re signs of man, of life unwanted by the land. Like human arteries, do they give off life, or feed off it? Barbed wire fence: seeing them makes me nervous.
Page 17:
‘the sun brought them there
and me to you
i remember myself
standing there
enjoying the view of you
waiting for me
I enjoy the view of anyone waiting for me!’
Page 18:
‘As a grave I don’t feel funny. I don’t feel like lying. The truth is important again, the cold hard facts of everything, every fucking time. Everything just feels hard, iron like, iron-y.
I have forgotten how to make fun.’
Page 19:
‘for signs mean nothing when
words mean everything’
Omphalos - the centre or hub of something
Page 35:
‘the everything
like the spelling
archaic
fake.’
Page 63:
‘where now sleep:
a pang for the past,
the nausea of the present’
Page 64:
THE EXPRESS WISH OF A CHINESE KAPUTAN IN BATAVIA, 8 OCTOBER 1740
i wish my life was as pretty
as a girl walking slowly
under the midday sun
her hair like a dance of ashes
Page 68:
‘stop breathing.
nothing gets done when you’re too busy breathing.
put on your floats.
be here now.’
Insouciance - casual lack of concern; indifference
Page 76:
CATCH TYGERS IN RED WEATHER
Page 78:
‘I had been spending too much time there listening to the sun’
Page 81:
‘where i come from, the trees keep everything in.’
Sembah - genuflecting with hands clasped together in front of your face or on top of your head, a gesture of obeisance
Page 93:
‘It is as if there was one definite place we belong to, one culture that shaped us, one nation we always represent. So what about the little things the we find in cities we have been, and the person we get to be in a given place at a given time - could these as well be what they call roots? Aren’t these enough to help us make sense of ourselves?’
‘We are nowhere, the poem tells us, and it is wow’
I particularly enjoyed the ending note by the publisher, putting this collection into perspective for me.
Quotes:
Page 14:
‘The fences ran through the land like arteries. They’re signs of man, of life unwanted by the land. Like human arteries, do they give off life, or feed off it? Barbed wire fence: seeing them makes me nervous.
Page 17:
‘the sun brought them there
and me to you
i remember myself
standing there
enjoying the view of you
waiting for me
I enjoy the view of anyone waiting for me!’
Page 18:
‘As a grave I don’t feel funny. I don’t feel like lying. The truth is important again, the cold hard facts of everything, every fucking time. Everything just feels hard, iron like, iron-y.
I have forgotten how to make fun.’
Page 19:
‘for signs mean nothing when
words mean everything’
Omphalos - the centre or hub of something
Page 35:
‘the everything
like the spelling
archaic
fake.’
Page 63:
‘where now sleep:
a pang for the past,
the nausea of the present’
Page 64:
THE EXPRESS WISH OF A CHINESE KAPUTAN IN BATAVIA, 8 OCTOBER 1740
i wish my life was as pretty
as a girl walking slowly
under the midday sun
her hair like a dance of ashes
Page 68:
‘stop breathing.
nothing gets done when you’re too busy breathing.
put on your floats.
be here now.’
Insouciance - casual lack of concern; indifference
Page 76:
CATCH TYGERS IN RED WEATHER
Page 78:
‘I had been spending too much time there listening to the sun’
Page 81:
‘where i come from, the trees keep everything in.’
Sembah - genuflecting with hands clasped together in front of your face or on top of your head, a gesture of obeisance
Page 93:
‘It is as if there was one definite place we belong to, one culture that shaped us, one nation we always represent. So what about the little things the we find in cities we have been, and the person we get to be in a given place at a given time - could these as well be what they call roots? Aren’t these enough to help us make sense of ourselves?’
‘We are nowhere, the poem tells us, and it is wow’
November 2, 2020
even after i almost finished the book--when i reached 70ish page--i was sure i did not want to rate this because i could not decide how i felt about this book. i did not like it, i did not hate it. it is something, it sure is, but it is just something that did not sit with me.
it is not because i did not understand, despite the poetry being brutally direct and straightforward, because in fact i did. okay, i admit, it took me a while to actually understand what the author was going to achieve with this book. i told myself while reading it that reading this felt like going from nowhere to nowhere. it was directionless, groundless and unsure.
and that was exactly what was in my head and what made me did not want to rate this, but then i read the publisher's note and it was like there was a switch in my head. of course it felt like i was going nowhere, of course it felt like i stepped on a baseless ground, that is exactly what the author is trying to deliver in this book. it is about the frustration of never actually know where home is, it is about being away and not being anywhere at all. it is the confusion, the questions, the belongness.
when i realized this, i felt like i wanted to slap myself. i went back to the previous pages, and read a few of the poems, especially what seems familiar enough to me. this work is extremely personal, like most poetry are, and i am glad i am able to finally understand them--even just a bit--at the end. this has been such a ride, so i gave it an appreciative three stars.
here the earth vomits trees it doesn't know what to do with. you said i was right.
then
you put a hand, pale like a flower, on the grey trunk of a palm tree. i feel so out of place--where i come from, the trees keep everything in.
it is not because i did not understand, despite the poetry being brutally direct and straightforward, because in fact i did. okay, i admit, it took me a while to actually understand what the author was going to achieve with this book. i told myself while reading it that reading this felt like going from nowhere to nowhere. it was directionless, groundless and unsure.
and that was exactly what was in my head and what made me did not want to rate this, but then i read the publisher's note and it was like there was a switch in my head. of course it felt like i was going nowhere, of course it felt like i stepped on a baseless ground, that is exactly what the author is trying to deliver in this book. it is about the frustration of never actually know where home is, it is about being away and not being anywhere at all. it is the confusion, the questions, the belongness.
when i realized this, i felt like i wanted to slap myself. i went back to the previous pages, and read a few of the poems, especially what seems familiar enough to me. this work is extremely personal, like most poetry are, and i am glad i am able to finally understand them--even just a bit--at the end. this has been such a ride, so i gave it an appreciative three stars.
here the earth vomits trees it doesn't know what to do with. you said i was right.
then
you put a hand, pale like a flower, on the grey trunk of a palm tree. i feel so out of place--where i come from, the trees keep everything in.
January 14, 2025
I don't know if it's best to read with context or without context, because if I were a better poetry reader, I think it's going to work with both. But for me, reading the poetry in the "away" section feels like a walk down the memory lane of early 2000s Jakarta. Mikael and I are basically in the same age, we even went to same "skena" back then. The poems captured those time, I can smell those days, those places, those people in the writings. I had a taxi driver like Aris. Everything is familiar, but the structure is quite foreign (it’s new to me).
November 7, 2023
I casually bought this book in an independent bookstore because I liked the title and its font. These poems are attached to specific locations, Bali, Jakarta, Blok M, etc. Poems are beautiful, I personally believe these written poems are beautiful as well. But somehow I did not get them or the poems did not get to me. Or maybe that's just the thing about poems, sometimes they don't have to make sense because poems are supposed to make you feel things.
May 29, 2020
Puisi-puisi favoritku yang sederhana dan membawa memori ruang: obrolan sama supir taksi, parc, gong xi fat cai. Beberapa mungkin belum aku mengerti, atau membahas pergulatan-pergulatan yg berbeda, atau referensinya terlampau asing. Kapan-kapan akan kubaca lagi.
September 14, 2020
Too personal to my liking
August 12, 2023
thank god it's wow, not wew nor uwuw.. although i don't understand most of it, i just keep reading it.. because, you know... (or you don't)
November 15, 2025
I'm hudzaifah, the reader. not the baker!
March 3, 2025
Easily digest but not so my cup of tea..
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