“Sometimes it’s bad
When the going get’s tough
Ya may look in the mirror
Ya may wanna give up
Sometimes we don’t even want to try
Sometimes we cry”
– Van Morrison, “The Healing Game” 1997
i have to explain, why i am sometimes in tears. Maybe i am over the top in my sentiments due to an incorrigible romantic streak inside. Or maybe I am tired of telling jokes. Especially when we don’t hear really a hearty laughter no more but usually that squiggly “hehehe!” as if quite often it sounds a lot like we are just reading them “Ha ha hee hee Ho ho” of an sms text on the ubuitious damn mobile fone that’s hypnotised a whole gerneration and a half this side or that new era of Anthropomophenes” and my wife still the last of the mohicans resisting owning one today (a hard core ‘keitai hantai’) and i can tell you it ain’t cute when you married to one and lately i declared once again to her that it’s over between us and yet we are not and that is probably the reason for my inability to hold back my tears.
i normally will not say things about personal relations in public discussions but it has come to a point where i have to in order to retain my seemingly eroding or thinning of a shaven dwindling integrity or trust in my ability to live up to the many claims of responsibility I am consciously claiming out of certainty that not many in this god forsaken society bother with the things i feel is necessary and hence have added to my already full choke a bloke schedule.
I cry for you Singapore because you have pains and yet you do not give enough attention to them, or even acknowledge them. You have pains that are symptoms of your ills but you do not see them or are numbed to them taking it astride like a stoic warrior ignoring these pains in order to fight the larger battle.Your continued trivialization of these pains you say is pragmatic, that’s the way to move on. But for me the fact that these pains you chose to ignore are in fact all the reason why your idea of moving on is nothing more than an aberration, another long held recurring nightmarish delusion. For the pains are the symptoms and areas of utmost concerns to be confronted, addressed, changed if not seeking care in order to heal that body in pain otherwise we shall only be playing illusive games of virtual movements of ‘moving on’ in progress toward that bright promise of a better age.
I cry for you my Singapore for your little red dot of a great promise keeps missing the point. I once sang with gusto an anthem had my mates sniggering for being not loudly singing it were made to sing it again and again by the disciplinarian school principal. Boys will be boys they say and naughty as they come they enjoyed the vexations of the principal punishing us as seeing him behaving in anger or in irritation, was an extra performance to watch and at real reason we rather liked it that it took almost the whole first period of the classes and usually we were half asleep anyway. But naughty as I was I secretly held patriotic sentiments whereby I would always be singing the anthem in my loudest, feigning nonchalance in parlance with my mates but I had as much faith in this song to sing it loud with my heart a blazing.
And yet I cry for you Singapore, for your people may have grown in fortune, in numbers, in education, sophistication and experience, exposed to various diverse cultures by travel and tourism and yet in many ways hold on to out-dated ideas of currency in terms of refinement that often enough is causing unnecessary anxieties as well as questionable postures of uneven judicial administration in a population of increasingly evolved individuals of self reflective consciousness.
I cry for you Singapore…