Lunch was at Bras Basah & teh afterward Old Chang Kee at the library. Pulverising neon for the stalls in the remodelled food court, which someone must have decided had begun to look a little tired. On the laminex tables and benches the colour tones were 20-25% muted. Fluro throughout like in surgery. All it needed was some dribbling golden oldies or Chrissy carols to complete the job. An Albert Tucker might have rendered something of the scene, or maybe Francis Bacon better. The Turner guy with the cow carcass in formaldehyde, somehow. But it was impossible. Shattering. Defied belief. If you were hungry you just tip-toed through and focused on your plate. Christ almighty, the active agent sterility! Cockroaches must have vacated the area. The young lad adjacent with the Mickey Mouse squeak talking some impresario music it might have been to his girl couldn’t help it, that was his natural voice. You did get that in these parts, both genders. It comes outta some kinda distinct gene pool, some biological marker on the stem cells. The pussy loving had to be way bigger in Asia that’s anywhere else on the planet; soft toys same. The 40s-50s girly fashions had never skipped a beat locally. Was the squeak of Chinese opera something of the same sort, the same range, integral somehow? And this is all coming from a strong, definite Sinophile by the way. (XXXXTrumpet😈😈😈😈.) Has there been a single mention over the ten years of the visual filth plastered across the island. Well, there was rather less of it last week going out to the block at Admiralty to visit Zainuddin, at least on the tube & down among the towers. The less salubrious quarters were denied all the splash. Stripping away natural elements, even grass and bare ground, colour and glitz needed to be substituted, that seemed the underlying logic. Once Silvia had raised the matter of the inescapable fluro; she had been having a bad skin week, she thought, falling a wee short of faultless. Another time earlier in the year around Earth Hour there came pushback in the conversations at the eateries. All the electrification, the colouring & fairy lights over the buildings, the malls, shopping precincts, the walkways was an enhancement according to some. Having no verticality to speak of in our skyscape, we in the land of Oz had nothing to show off; naturally fitted for Earth Hour down there. And now we were under a fortnight to Christmas. The giant green plastic towers had been springing up since October, they made popular backdrop for photos, sometimes 2-3 groups different sides. Various cartoon characters along the line of Santa’s helpers drew children & adults alike. All of it was ablaze through the night. In the library the underlying drone of the aircon descended from overhead. At the Sec. desk at Reference on the 8th the sweet old guard responded to comment on the coolness with the simple advice to rug up. For himself he had come well prepared, carrying perhaps even four layers on top. When he pulled on the uniform jacket there might have been a vest before his shirt. It was tough. Around Geylang Serai the Muslims still provided a refuge of sorts, in that narrow quarter from the Haig to the market. Anywhere beyond in any direction you were really asking for it.
Geylang Serai, SG 2011-24
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