Happy tiredness + CSI blogs

November 16, 2012

Today I woke up at the crack of dawn and joined the farm hands in the field. It’s now nearly three and the sun hangs high in the steely skies. I am totally spent. My arms are so tired that they feel as if they might be leaden. My legs ache and they seem to have gone on strike. As I lie down underneath the shade of a tree, it seems I am broken. Yet a strange happy sensation fills my heart that reminds me of a character in Tolstoy masterpiece Anna Kareninna.

But enough of this reverie. I must try to get up now and make the return journey back to my house on the hill to shave, shower and dress to receive Missy Dotty. The helicopter will be arriving soon from the South. I have not seen her for nearly four years. Not so much as spoken to her for this lenght of time. Maybe it is best not to strive to make conversation for the sake of conversation – perhaps I shall just ask her to accompany me in a repertoire after dinner. Yes, I shall open a fine Pinot and we will simply play Cafe Tango 1930 together. There are after so many happy variations to keep up us occupied throughout the evening. That is all I want to do this evening. Not to strive for wonderfulness or to try or to even do the impossible by trying to explain why I felt the need to leave Singapore in the way I did – like the happy litany of toil I simply want to feel the honesty of muscles as it ploughs through strings and cords to create beautiful music. To go into score, through it and to be spitted out like a seed to the otherside – that is all I wish for. That is all I really want. And that is all I can offer. No more or less. I have no more words.

“He thought of nothing, wished for nothing, but not to be left behind the peasants, and to do his work as well as possible. He heard nothing but the swish of scythes, and saw before him Tit’s upright figure mowing away, the crescent-shaped curve of the cut grass, the grass and flower heads slowly and rhythmically falling before the blade of his scythe, and ahead of him the end of the row, where would come the rest.

Suddenly, in the midst of his toil, without understanding what it was or whence it came, he felt a pleasant sensation of chill on his hot, moist shoulders. He glanced at the sky in the interval for whetting the scythes. A heavy, lowering storm-cloud had blown up, and big raindrops were falling. Some of the peasants went to their coats and put them on; others –just like Levin himself– merely shrugged their shoulders, enjoying the pleasant coolness of it.

Another row, and yet another row, followed–long rows and short rows, with good grass and with poor grass. Levin lost all sense of time, and could not have told whether it was late or early now. A change began to come over his work, which gave him immense satisfaction. In the midst of his toil there were moments during which he forgot what he was doing, and it came all easy to him, and at those same moments his row was almost as smooth and well cut as Tit’s. But so soon as he recollected what he was doing, and began trying to do better, he was at once conscious of all the difficulty of his task, and the row was badly mown.”


Aiboh: “Darkness! Have you heard. There is a site called Singapore Hall of Shame, they have exposed the internet brigade!”

Darkness: “Oh really? And just because they release a couple of facebook pages. You buy into that aspect of their account hook, line, sinker? Do you mean to tell me life is so simple Aiboh? They jump, you jump and I just follow all of you down the rabbit hole. Or maybe what you mean to say is: probabilities make for possibilities – like that other blog that depicts the happy life of the Singaporean train driver who is feted by everyone under the bloody sun from ST to the school of Rajaratnam? No Aiboh, I don’t think they have exposed anything at all. All I really see is a blog that is trying very hard to sell bottled Himalayan air. And I can understand. I understand completely. As time is running out and that simply means their masters are desperate to get results. They want a bang and bang. And desperate people will do virtually anything Aiboh. Anything! But I think it best to hold my tongue. Besides they haven’t really made a move against us. So why even stir up shit? Does it even make sense Aiboh to start a new front? Maybe we should live and let live? If people want to believe that there is really a site that is able to reveal all and peer into darkened interiors – then let them believe what they want to believe. What does it really have to do with me? Since when did I elect to be the Batman of blogoland? Besides you’re forgetting one thing dearest Aiboh –  I am such a polite sort of fellow. Even all you ladies have to concede to that – it’s best, if we keep mum as to who they really are. Don’t you think so? After all they have a right to be here as much as anyone in blogoland. That is really all I am prepared to divulge for the time being. I am sorry, my lips are sealed. Nothing more or less. Besides I really have far more pressing concerns to deal with this evening. You see Missy Dotty. Do you remember her? She is visiting my plantation this evening.By the way Aiboh, do you still have that killer recipe for the caramel pear dessert? Do be a nice girl and send it over.”

Captured in a thread in the Strangelands – relayed by the Magneto class deep space scientific cruiser KDD Nebraska – brought to you by the Interspacing Mercantile Guild.

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