She speaks. I listen. She finishes her question. I translate.
You speak. I listen. You finish your answer. I translate.
She smiles. You smile. While I anticipate the next string of words in either language.
She tells a story. I translate at each suitable interval. I speak while I listen. I listen while I speak. It is a long story.
You find the story interesting so you interject with a witty remark. I speak while I listen to your remark. I translate your remark while listening to her speaks. And the story continues.
I think while I translate. I translate while I listen. I listen while I think. Now, I wish to interject. Because the story got me interested. Two languages. One after another. Every time I make a comment.
She smiles. You smile. And I smile because of the oddity of speaking all the time. In both languages. Most of the time I am talking into space. Soon, I am lost in translation.
If that is not odd enough, now it is time for me to tell a story. In two languages. In near real time. Are you ready?
I saw a dog on the street. Listening to music. 我在街上看見一隻狗。傾聽音樂。 A man was jogging. Tripped over the dog’s tail and nearly fell onto the ground. 一個人在跑步。被狗的尾巴絆倒, 幾乎跌倒了。 The dog howled in pain 狗在痛苦中嗥叫了 and started chasing after the man 開始追逐那個人. Ten minutes later the dog returned with something in his mouth that looked like a wallet. 十分鐘後, 狗返回, 似乎咬著一個錢包。 The dog dropped the the wallet onto my guitar case 狗把錢包投入我的吉他盒 as I continued to sing 當我繼續唱歌. I saw a dog on the street listening to my music. 我看見了一隻狗在街上, 傾聽我的音樂。
(1st translation by computer, 2nd translation by Lora)
Should you blog for yourself or should you blog for the visitors who read your blog? Where does self-indulgence begin and public demand of affection end?
Dan and Young at 98.7FM asking callers to finish off the sentence “Singapore needs more …”. One lady caller replied “animal lovers”. On the same stretch of road a day ago, I jam braked my car to avoid killing a monkey that was strolling along the street. A dog from my neighbour barks incessantly. I dream of hundreds of ways to shut it up.
Met JS for lunch. We talked about building houses in Singapore. I want one with a basement. Not just one but twelve. I want a lift that gets me to B12. Carbon dioxide sinks so I want a garden at B12 with 24 hours daylight to suck up the CO2. I don’t want to faint at my basement for the lack of O2.
I want a house with twelve levels of basement underwater. Like an aquarium. JS laughed. It’s impossible he said. I said have the concept first and leave the details to the scientists! And to the scholars of Singapore! Rubberized concrete. Suspension system. Whatever it takes. I want to build a condo underwater.
Global warming. Water level is rising. Environment around us is changing. Way too slow. Incremental accommodations of the change paint us deeper into a corner. Same mechanism that wiped off the Greenland Norse civilisation (Google it). Underwater condos and houses are our future.
I have not been writing seriously for a long time. Today came the inspiration as I heard the sound of the howling wind outside my windows. Hope you enjoy it. Perhaps one day I shall turn this into a song.
The howling wind outside my windows reminds me of a particular season of my home town. So strong that my bedroom door rattles – even with my windows closed. These atmospheric sounds, going through my head, enough to make me feel a certain unknown force that I have yet to feel for. A summon? A warning? Or the passing over of a higher being? My mind is all clear, no thoughts but sounds that I hear. A surreal moment that seems to rise above all meditations. My body is so relax as I am lying with my back on my bed – feeling dead.
As I am lying with my back on my bed, with my eyes closed, I cannot feel a single ounce of energy from my body. Not a single muscle of mine is working. All flaccid, limp, out-of-order. Not quite so. My heart is still beating and I am still breathing, am I not? Such a drain in energy. Outside, the force of nature. Inside, the shutdown of an organic machine.
A thought came into my mind: what would a painless return to mother nature be like? Like the final moment of a bee or a butterfly? How do they feel? Sipping of energy? Listless body? If a walk down the memory lane all the way back to the tunnel of light is a certainty, I wish I could take that walk any time I like. Like now, so drained of energy. Would time matters? Or could I take my time as I journey through this memory lane? There are already moments of my life I wish to stop over. Just to enjoy the lost moments. How I wish …
As my mind slowly shutting down portions of itself, the line between dream and reality blurs out. And all too soon for me to realise, the sound of the howling wind and the rattling door seems so distant from me. I do not remember hearing my heart beats, nor the sound of my breathing. I no longer remember the effort of my own life sustaining mechanism. And I do not recall such a vivid remembrance each night I fall asleep.
The howling wind sweeps me into another dimension as I surrender all of my conciousness.