JUNE 27 — This is a fabulous time to be alive, well for me anyways. I wish it is for you too.
My mom is probably undecided if rice every other day is real living in her second week in France, my brother is as ever preoccupied in reframing the gender debate for the people living in our depressed economic zone south of Kuala Lumpur, one nephew’s voice is breaking while another is breaking everything in his long backyard watched over by his grandmother who wishes he ate more. Meanwhile, my flatmate is trying to get people to wear gas masks and play football in this trying weather.
And here I am, working on another plan.
While I still have so much more to achieve and to deliver in 2013, taking stock at halftime with July urging on I’d say the year has been pretty decent.
How would the social outlook be for the second half of 2013? I say social, because I am going to hold back on the politics for a while. Mind you, I’m all political, but the public can be spared one more analysis on that this week. (Call me if you just want to talk politics, even Klingon politics.)
The haze
We had our final pub league match called off last Sunday, but not our annual do the night before.
Finishing second last in the league may have hurt the feelings of real footballers, however since the winners have to parade grotesque plastic medals in their plush condominiums everyone is getting somehow punished. Some were even unlucky enough to win a few.
Not punished as much as those working on the MRT project in this weather, though.
While our throats collectively don’t feel quite right for a few more days, when the haze does clear will you really end up running up and down a field near you, or trek to a waterfall?
Was it not said that it is the extremities which force people to savour situations when the preferred rotation period is in play, like seasonal weather? While I am not asking us to mimic Scandinavians on a beach in summer, well not specifically, still there is the persistent argument that Malaysians hardly embrace adventure out in the open when it’s safe.
Football transfers
Speaking of summers, while most of my countrymen have little regard for the sliver of heat in England right now and showers disrupting play at Wimbledon, they are eager about the transfers abound in the Premier League. England to Malaysians generally can be reduced to one word, football.
The stuff about castles, towers for beheading and rowing don’t even factor. When it comes to Premier League Malaysians are just completely oblivious of race, colour and religion, you are useless if you can’t head the ball.
My team, Tottenham Hotspurs, are mired in what has been an annual distraction — to be linked with every moderately-priced player available. Every odd named South American or Eastern European with a club contract is a possible buy. Lifelong supporters do not get dragged into the gossip. Like me, I rather wake up in cold sweat thinking of the horror opening weeks of the season we will have, only to collect a decent number of wins before dropping the points when they count the most. It’s masochism without the whips and chains.
Last month, you will not believe it (actually I did not believe it, I still don’t), I attended a Manchester United fan club event in Kota Kinabalu. For me, Man U are the reason why I have not visited Manchester yet. And yes for the non-footballs reading this and thinking that it is absurd loathing a club thousands of miles away, when they have very little to do with my everyday life, I thank you for your input. I want you also to jump off a cliff and repeat your advice, I hear better when there is an echo.
Durians are missing
Two days now I have been hunting for durians. They are seemingly only at Petaling Jaya’s SS2 and Bukit Bintang. Which means they are expensive. All my usual haunts for cheaper durians are not up yet.
A friend of mine said that it’s because they Chinese are eating them. I said that the Chinese have been eating them for eons. He corrected me, the citizens of the People’s Republic of China are now eating them he said thus more and more are being exported.
My friend is also the one with the theory that you should not trust women who drink bottled beer. I’d ask him, but that would just encourage him to talk more. He did add unsolicited that when Beijing’s calling, no coal worker can say no.
I envy those who do know where to sort out their durian craving — please don’t say a supermarket — for they are truly children of the tropics blessed with inner truths.
Then to July we must
I’m not running a bed and breakfast in Tampin, everyone at work uses “live” ammunition.
Yet, that is not reason enough to walk around moping about. I’m not an advocate of looking your profession, which is why some people have mistaken my affability as a sign of lacking toughness. It’s an easy mistake to make.
So as this year moves a gear to its second half, and in football that’s where the results mean even more, I’d want to opine a view: That while serious things need serious people to see them through, losing your perspective of what is important to see anything true is a recipe for disaster.
End of sermon. We’ll talk again soon. I have to continue feeling fabulous.
“I am certainly and without a doubt fantastically well and was close to spectacular but I must say
You just pissed spectacular off, and don’t even mention exactly...
But here comes fine right now” — Good Day, Good Sir in Speakerboxxx/The Love Below (Outkast)
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
