Log 16-7-13

July 16, 2013

Bird house filling up nicely. Time of observation: 1130 to 1430. Weather: before mild rain. I have never seen such agile swiftlets before – their flight arch is tight. Yaw and pitch snappy. They are strong. Alpha birds, the creme of the crop. That why only such birds have managed to make the epic journey across the sea from Sumatra during the recent haze – the rest who are not in this top physical quality have perished – the question now is will they settle and breed.

I suspect they will, there are hardy lot – so even if the temp and humidity is off – they will settle. With such quality of birds the genetic pool will be very good.

Instructions to bird house keeper:

– I want daily reports during 0700-0800 and 1800 to 1945 daily.

– security is good checked outer parameter fence for anomalies – none.

Bird House Control Room: to scientifically manage a bird house. I need a lab. I have vicious enemies. I must design this lab in such a way where I can defend it, if it is breached. Deception must be used strategically. If they come which I believe they will – I must be able to funnel them into a killing zone. Doors must be narrow so to blunt their numerical superiority. I must have the capacity to hold out, water, generators and food to last 30 days must be provisioned.

It will be designed for one purpose – to neutralize effectively and cleanly. Meanwhile I will lull my enemies into a false sense of security. That way when they come. They will be complacent and I will be able to terminate the threat robotically, metallically and professionally.

They are vicious. But they do not know how vicious I can be after what they have done.

Mental Health: No one must know I am so very sad. They must not even suspect this. I must assassinate my emotions and the show must go on – to perform to play the role of the unbreakable man.

I must take refuge in discipline – but it is difficult. Today during archery practice – I couldn’t even get a decent grouping at 50 yards – it was everywhere – I must be thinking about her.

Today I broke my violin. I will never play again. I have decided – as it is a time machine that makes me think of her. I must be focussed. I must be focussed. I must be focussed.

My Muslim farmhands believe the farmer is a man who respects the Hadith, so he fast alongside them in the month of Ramadan – truth is I have no appetite at all – I have lost 2 kg. I must eat.

The only person who suspects something is not right with me is Siti – the 23 year old daughter who cooks for me in the month of Ramadan – she notices I do not touch the food. Perhaps she even detects a lingering sadness in the way I so often look out on the world vacantly – today she touched me on the shoulder and told me, “what is wrong with you master?” I will need to sack her. Although we do not share the same fate, this girl secretly loves me. It is too risky to have her around. I may succumb to temptation. Tomorrow I will terminate her services.

No one must be allowed to know that I am damaged goods – they must never know that I dying slowly but surely deep within me.

Discipline. I must switch to Mossad agent mode and fool them all. I am happy. The world is going exactly as I expected it. I will return home to my family one day. I must project this image and snap out of my grief. I must.

Concerns: today I told the headmaster of the school that I can no longer from time to time lecture the school teachers – he told me it was regrettable as the school has through the years relied on my inputs whenever the teachers are befuddled about math and physics.

I did not reveal to him the real reason why – I just feel sone of the school teachers, especially the pretty ones seem to delight in making fun of my imaginary wife – they don’t even have the courtesy to treat me like a landowner – instead they seem to spend so much of their time teasing me.

There is a girl. She knows something is wrong. She is the only one who doesnt relish what the rest do regularly – she knows sometime is wrong.

Everyone who knows, suspects or even has a hint of suggestion that I am dying within must be eliminated.

I am unbreakable. I am unbreakable. I am unbreakable.

I must return to my work. Work is good. As I do not think about my Samurai wife when I work.

My wife believes I am a monster. When I was poisoned she saw a side of me that she has never seen before – she always suspected she didn’t marry an ordinary man – maybe I am a monster.

Can she not fucking understand that I have to be a hard man to thrive here – put any Singaporean man here for one month and he would curl up and die. But not only have I survived, I have succeeded. Singaporeans like to think the world is a fair place. Truth is only a hard and cold hearted man can survive here. Not even the police can be trusted here. As those daughter fuckers are all on the take – I am going to buy more land this time in their turf – I want to send out a clear message, I am attacking you, prepare for war.

My mind is running wild again – I must calm myself. I must be so still that I am a rock. I must think like a Mossad field agent.

I need to brush my teeth now.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: