The museum was beautiful. It really was. I had a thought that art mediums go in this order. Musician, Painter and then writer. Maybe others are better than that but what?
Singapore
firstly it gave me the irks, I felt it was an orchestrated country using its people to produce tax to support their next engineering feat, speaking of feet, mine fucking stink and there's nothing I can do about it. ill have to chuck them in the airport sink and give them a scrub. ill have India turning its nose up. Everything was Disney, everything was brands, I felt the place was just a giant shopping centre. I had heard the people get given a place to live and pay it back through their work. That they aren’t allowed to have a car or if they do its one a family. That everything was clean and there weren’t any homeless. there wasn’t any poverty. What is freedom without the ability to be homeless? what sort of communist country was this? And then I realised I was just hungry. I had burger king at the airport and the place didn’t seem so bad anymore, albeit still fairly expensive. But then again, so is Melbourne Airport, so is Melbourne City, so is Melbourne. And Singapore is pretty much Just Melbourne if it was closer to everything. Filled with Malaysians instead of Brits. Jetstar delayed my flight a day and derailed the rest of the flights. I now had a 10 hour stop over in Singapore before flying to Bengaluru, a five hour stop over there and an hour flight to my Airbnb in Kochi that sits empty. The plane from Melbourne wasn’t even half full. We all had an aisle to ourselves. I sat and watched out the window for most of the trip. I got to Singapore around midnight. Walked around in circles like a lost dog for and then jumped through the hoops to get out of there and collect my bags. That’s when I walked around, working up a sweat in the humid night on the equator. I was in good spirits, anything, anything, is better than going to work. So I sat and laid on the tiles in a dark corner and didn’t expect to get any sleep but dozed off for close to an hour. awoken by a man snoring like he had something to prove. The roof tiles on the airport were falling off. He registered on the rector scale. It’s a good effort to fall asleep on the floor of a public place but to shake said floor in your slumber is a whole new level of impressive. I was restless, listening to peaceful piano through my noise cancellation headphones. Still hearing him snore through those, defeating the latest technology known to man. I walked to check in and then I could sleep knowing I was near my gate. I walked up to my airline, indigo it was called haha, and the man asked for what I thought was my covid vaccination certificate. So I showed him my fake one which worked at Melbourne. Because I'm not vaccinated, because bill gates is being held hostage because he fucked children and now he has to use all his riches to please the powers that own him. Bill, if you are reading this, and I know you probably are, Jesus will forgive you for all sins once you repent, but please, stop.
but the man wasn’t asking for my certificate, he was asking for a Covid Test in the last 72 hours. From a doctor. India had required this from only certain countries and Singapore was one of them. My little heart broke but not really, like I said, its better than being at work. So they sent me to the basement and I got my test and paid for the results to be rushed but its was going to take 12 hours. So I missed my connecting flight, God did not want me to go to Bengaluru just yet, he wanted me to see more of Singapore and learn a lesson to not have prejudice over anything you haven’t seen with your own minds eye!
as I type a man puts a clothes peg on his nose as the green lines from my feet find his nostrils.
the man who stuck the cotton buds up my nose was watching man united play Leeds on his phone. Leeds scored in the first 55 seconds and it was at old Trafford. Leeds is in my blood and I hate man united and as I walked out of the clinic with a smile and grateful for the kind help from all involved I heard the game playing around the corner. I laid there and watched Man u bring back a 2-0 deficit and settle with a draw. A great game. I caught a train in the morning into the city. I was hot and a bit lacking in energy but my spirit was still curious. The town didn’t light up until at least 8am which I found interesting. I walked around Singapore. Walked and walked and it really is a strange place. Everything is in English, everyone speaks English. Everything is brand new and everything is spotless. I was walking and chewing on a chewy and realised I was breaking the law and it made me happy. Not even Singapore can stop my rebellious nature. Everyone was running. Everyone was exercising but they all had bodies and a running style that it was the first time. One thing I noticed that no one had a good ass. I still haven’t seen one. I miss them. I laid on the park grass and fell asleep for a little bit. I had a dream Elvis was answering a question I forgot I asked, and he said, ‘around 1954’. He seemed happy, I'm glad he is doing better now. Talented no doubt but didn’t write his own songs; do with that as you please. It seems a talented black man would make a song and a white talent would steal it. That’s just an observation, I'm not trying to get pats on the back from the LEFT. Singapore began to shit me a little, it was too perfect, it was constructed and didn’t have soul. So after my sleep and some food I went to the Museum. The museum was beautiful. It really was. I had a thought that art mediums go in this order. Musician, Painter and then writer. Maybe others are better than that but what?
I love writing, I love reading but its just saying it. The painting and the song they don’t need the clunky letters stuck together. I started to feel good and I got my results from the covid test and they were negative. I could get a direct flight straight to Kochi. Which I catch in about four hours. I'm sitting drinking $20 pints of tiger and just smacked the back out of half a margherita. I wanted a full one but you should see the prices.
On the train home, when I had kind of worked my self out of the place. Appreciating the precision of this Country. This city. Everything is just perfect. The average Singaporean may take it for granted, it may leave them dumb. You get off the train and the other one is five metres away waiting for you. You use your own Card instead of buying a ticket. Well I did, and that probably cost a mortgage but I got used to those!
On the train I watched the city pass by. I realised, like Melbourne that where I was walking around was orchestrated. That wasn’t anyone’s real home. But watching the pants hang over the ledge in the middle of the complex of apartments. The yellow plastic chairs beneath the awnings selling cheap and probably nice food for the willing. There was a pulse to the place. You just needed to know where to look. And maybe when I win tattslotto or when the writing career hits off (both as likely) then ill come back. ill come back and find someone with a good ass.
