Sunday, 20 July 2008

Like A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

If the fish swam out of the ocean
And grew legs and they started walking
And the apes climbed down from the trees
And grew tall and they started talking

And the stars fell out of the sky
And my tears rolled into the ocean
Now I'm looking for a reason why
You even set my world into motion

'Cause if you're not really there
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter

'Cause if you're not really there
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to you
Black and gold
Black and gold
Black and gold

It's been a week that's characterised by pervasive little bouts of busyness, especially on the capoeira side of things, such that even though my schedule may hardly seem packed, there was very little time to really do anything else. Sports camp turned out surprisingly successful, with more people than we'd expect expressing both informed and uninformed interest in capoeira.

Today is Social Science Camp day zero, so we've all gotta report in the evening for pre-camp briefings and prop preps and stuff, and I'll be away til wednesday.

This morning I decided to run some neighbourhood errands and grab some goodies for the family, so I put on my slacks and took a walk around my heartlands. And I wasn't quite expecting this but a pang of nostalgia hit me because, honestly, I can't really recall when was the last time I took a stroll around my area and my best memories probably came from a time when I'd still be holding my mom's hand on my left and my dad's on my right, and when I hated going to the market because I had no vested interest in it but I was still forced to and when everyone in the hawker centre towered over me, their endless chatter convoluted into a drowning mass of noise.

So I dragged my feet in my flip flops, a feeling that was once lost but came rushing back to me, as I lazily sauntered through alleyways and past shophouses that have changed ownerships and patronages but have still retained that good ol' vintage touch of sorts. The landscape's changed but deep down everything still feels comfortingly the same. I squeezed my way through the narrow passages in the pathetic NTUC that has renovated at least thrice but still boasts one of the lousiest shelf selections I've ever seen.

And at once, even after having been away for so long, I felt at home again as the neighbourhood came to life this bustling Sunday morning, as I guess it always does every other Sunday morning. Such is the enchantment of community spirit.

Anyway, I decided to grab The Newpaper, something I hadn't done in a while also, and it had this interesting headline: Hey Girl, You're A Hottie: Online travel mag ranks S'pore in top 10 cities with the hottest girls. One reason: Her 'cute and sexy' Singlish. Really?

No shit. I mean I really do believe in the quality of our local ladies but because of the Singlish? Some fascinating locally-flavoured food for thought perhaps.

It's as if I'd just fitted in a final jigsaw piece, and then at that moment I thought I could run through a field of yellow and gold, and set the birds into grand flight like a medley of a thousand canons.

Audio Candy:
Sam Sparro - Black And Gold

No comments: