Woebegone - Shark (April24)

 

Poor old wounded Shark over on the garden wall there. Ciggies his best friends. Where did all that resplendent wardrobe go, suddenly? The Widow’s kids surely could not have claimed it all. Caps, tees, shirts, trainers—none of it the cheap China product. Reduced to the uncle-wear like the local pollies when they set out for their meet ‘n greets in the heartland. (There might possibly be a few flutters at the top of the towers in this run-up to the election Friday, the festival of democracy a national holiday.) Dull, unbranded blue polyester, sandals, plastic bags tied to his bike’s handle bars, teh included. Poor devil might even be sleeping rough. Could not have swung the docs with a lawyer. Perhaps the poor dear had passed without warning; certainly there had been no sign of any kind in the last sighting at Al Azhar back in May-June. Seven or eight years biting without getting his teeth into the estate proper? Possibly the process was still entrain and the man remained some kinda chance. They had been together so long, even though word was formal union had not occurred, various theories proffered. Doesn’t have a leg to stand on otherwise, clearly. 

 

 

 

 

Packed Prayers (Dec24 update)

 

Caught the Courts man 12 hours ago on his bike stopped on a path at the Haig. Chap had been seen there before at the same time, beneath the sheltered walkway, pausing for some reason with the wheels between his legs. Boyish in the company polo. It was heartening hearing Helen’s report of the government survey man couple months before, commenting how nice he found the Courts man. My, my! That was reassuring. There was an impulse to report the compliment. Hey, you know that survey guy few weeks back?… In the year or two prior to Covid the man’s Viet girlfriend had not returned; now neither these 14 months later. Visa probs possibly, or else funds dried up. Heavy smoker, coughing his guts out upstairs, trying to clear his nasal passage in the echoing bathroom. When he turns on a smile that guy, it’s a helluva thing. Musta been generously hosted, the survey guy on his rounds. 10-11 hour shifts at the store in his particular department, white goods from memory. Evenings you could hear the man returning with his bicycle, coming in through the narrow opening. Earlier it was Wahyu’s sandal slapping that had echoed out there. Young Calvin from one of the capsule rooms upstairs had a brisk shoe-tap. The taciturn Toyota guy with the Viet karaoke girls was away somewhere again, his sedan parked up the side outside the bedroom window. Apparently, according to Auntie Helen, the Toyota actually comes alive and speaks to landlord Tan. (Respecting money, according to Helen.) After he was told the other day of the wearying prayers in early teens, trying to remember all the unfortunates who needed mention before signing off and getting under the covers, dear old Zainuddin reported that he had the very same problem currently, in his late-seventies, wearying himself out with the catalogue of all those in serious need of succour. 

 

 

Gentle Chirruping (Nov25)

HOLD ON 

                  // 

                   PAIN ENDS

Another lady indoors carried on her canvas the old apple pie wishing a nice day. The impulse to run that one down to make the woman state her bona fides was resisted. On another day the lady would not have gotten away unchallenged.

Either/or was in fact welcome relief from GENTLE WOMAN. Truly!! Yeow!… That one was seriously pulping the brain. 

Months it had been only GW bags, albeit carpet dimension. Now, suddenly without warning, the progression to purses & apparel.

The older gal here, older than the second—first was advanced years—with her usual heavy eye-liner, had tried on a shy smile last week, after sheepishly fetching up to the table at the end of the row. Make-up, smart office/front desk navy, tightly bound coloured bun. The echo of the Italo/Grecian tragics, those beauties who had never found love nor managed children, surprised in that unfamiliar Chinese form. For her tea break the lady didn’t cart her bag, though there was  certainly a GW in her wardrobe.

The regular 4PM Indian techies at Toast Box knew the style you yourself were sporting, by the way, Buster. For them the slightly ragged, dishevelled chic referenced the old saddhus back home, the gurus & holy men. Didn’t get much of a run hereabout, especially in the biz quarter.

These particular guys were quiet & shy; couple generations later the colour bar still remained. You got that as one of the esteemed privileged, from all three races here; but the Indians in bucketloads. Passing a word, a comment or hallo, automatically elicited a start, with something like gratitude in the blushing.

But Gent double V. That tickle would not let up. It kept on keeping on. Feminism had barely scratched the surface in these parts on the Equator. There were plenty of feisty, knowing old gals around the place; the feathery snowball fem, however, certainly did blitz the field. Some of the chipmunk voices on the street drilled through the bone. Nothing anywhere comparable. Minnie Mouse & the other cuties essentially.

Couple years ago one of the conservative Malaysian Ministers… But this was going to sound crazy, impossible. Who would believe?

…Women ought, suggested said Minister—for women’s affairs, from memory, in the recent backdoor government up on the Peninsular. Lady by the name of Rina Harum. (Google to confirm.)

…Women ought, counselled Minister RH, in her tight scarf & caked make-up… Ought speak to their husbands like the cartoon character Doraemon. Lisped she, Rina.

Well, whatever that fun cutie critter might be. You read it here. Sic. Quote / unquote. No make-believe or invention; on the public record and easily verifiable.

(Women, Family & Community Devel, in the Ismail Sabri government of Malaysia. Also some wee way contentious Rina on the subject of underage marriage. Check that out too.)  

Thought had been Gentle was first adopted in the fashion houses of France or Spain, as part of the backlash. We’re on your side, boys. All for it. Trad. gentling laid on here. You can count on us. 

Advertising. Allow women to be women. Cats & poodles. Pleated skirts, heels, nails & lashes.

Beauty duty was a given here; matter of course. Well-nigh impossible to get a look-in otherwise, on a career ladder, or any place else. You almost never saw casual Gentles; nothing but the full panoply. Twenty-five minute prep before getting out the door.

They wouldn’t exactly gravitate to old, worn guys with bad teeth, though naturally the whiting did retain its allure. Certainly got you a foot in the door.    

 

 

NB. Googling again, the Thai genesis was surprising up in those BKK ateliers. A triumph for the designers.

 

 

 

                                                                                                         Singapore, 2011-25

 

 

 

 

 

Charades (April24)

Oh! Too late; squeeze by. You would have liked to have avoided such dining companions. Fallen into the trap. But I’m gonna guess these gals would struggle to make the ID here, in fact. No Ranjit in attendance might help; no one to blow the cover. Sooo good! I love it!… Very inner-city Great Southern Land. Oh, FFFF! a fourth joining them. Early-mid 50s; the immediately adjacent younger. What might give the game away, possibly? Not a single, damn thing actually. Nandri… Xie xie ni. The Tamil & Mandarin to the waiters usefully muddying the water. Goatee; chin beard. (The latter tugged by Yani last night in her throes, just as anticipated from long ago. How could a Mussie gal resist?!) Nothing to hint. En route in the bus and then the queue under the veranda, a Jamaican immigrant piece in the Review on the second generation’s riding on the back of the first; or in fact riding those numbers of ancestors preceding. Bab Ruza, Rose, telling her early teen beauty, Jos ti neznas na cije zube kruh jedes! You still don’t know on whose teeth you’re eating your bread!… Baba had left some other locale in Bosnia most likely, for Southern Herzegovina, before finally marrying (twice) over the border on Uble. Right-thinking gals, polite thanks for the plates. Diet Coke fattie. Careful body language—no cringing away, lest it draw attention. Rely on table manners. (Boy! was that some kinda blind if you could pull it off.) Chook’s cackle. Oh! Guaranteed fans of the Matildas. The NSW Premier had promised a State public holiday if the team won the upcoming final. The semi-final had been a record-breaking TV audience for any sporting event in the history of the country. Oh! Oh!… A reader would never believe. Late-comer facing: Where did you watch the game?… English immigrant in her case, thinner Princess Anne, who followed the hair styling. CAN’T ANGRY TODAY journal (from Yogyakarta) was unfortunate. Contained like the practised Tamils here within these walls and roundabout was the go; always impressive models of behaviour. Drove in two of them; parking problems. Children at camp; looking forward to their return Friday. Husbands good earners. Resentment still burnt deep all these many years later; all that early effort at passing. Best line of defence and the surest, the mou, clipped super-fine, centimetre shaved on top. Nowhere to be seen in these ladies’ circles. Contrary, you betchya. (Can’t Angry & Wrath-Bearing Tree in the folder, but they’re certainly not going to get a squizz at the latter.) Clean getaway; pretty perfect. They might have caught the odd twitch & grimace.

Earth’s Make-Over (April24)

 

Planet Earth...

Craning round on Lavender – Boon Keng Corner. 

Nondescript light industrial either side of the river. Post-Covid Darwin Interiors along there somewhere on the No. 21 was no more; couldn't be sighted.

Planet Earth. The only one we had, as the enviro guys were warning and the US Republicans denying. (There was the moon and beyond for one thing.) 

A senior government Minister here had recently explained the absence of a US delegation at a forum by pointing out the Democratic Party in the States did not in fact consider Singapore a democracy. Stood to reason no-show.

This was shortly before the wheels were set in motion for the election of the new President; the incumbent would not be seeking a second term. (Management of a $500m enterprise recently stipulated as one of the chief qualifications for the role.) 

Darwin had always seemed odd. Did it reference the great thinker, or the town on the great southern land?  Effective, penetrating branding was always a challenge here.

Planet Earth... A New Era of Décor. 

Coming soon. Finishing touches were being delivered presently behind the rice paper screens.

Publication news: Murder, War & the Dead - The Wrath-BearingTree

 Hello all 

_{Here is a Vietnam War story just published by a magazine in the States called The Wrath-Bearing Tree.} 

_{The matter that turned into Murder, War & the Dead was first discovered in Singapore back 10 yrs ago. A long gestation.}

_{Since the end of that war the thoughts have regularly returned to the boys 4 - 5 yrs older who were herded over to Vietnam, not to mention all the slaughter and devastation on the Vietnamese side. Some association with the Vietnamese community in Footscray, Melbourne too also kept the war from slipping away.} 

_{In Singapore there is virtually no knowledge of the operation referenced here, either then or now.}

3.5K words, free on the site—

https://www.wrath-bearingtree.com/2023/08/new-fiction-by-pavle-radonic-murder-war-and-the-dead/

_{Best of the best to all}

_Pavle