1240 hrs May 12th 2006

I don't know

what the hell fuck

am I doing

with my life.

Mum just asked,

when are you gonna

see Dad?

I'm too busy this week Mum.

That was what I said

last week too.

I work 7 days a week,

to what purpose?

A penthouse, a sportscar, a boat, a beautiful girlfriend.

Why do I need all that?

If beautiful girlfriend

can find a homeless begging monk

more attractive,

you can bet,

I'll be the first

to be a homeless begging monk.

But you know

it doesn't quite work

that way.

Since the time

of the neanderthals,

if a caveman

would be critically injured

in a hunting expedition,

Mrs Cavewoman ain't gonna hang around

with Mr Invalid Caveman.

I actually envy the neanderthals.

Be a caveman,

go hunting for meat

all day.

Come home,

sit by the fire,

just toss a piece of meat

in the general direction

of the woman

is all it takes.

PAP loved to parrot

from Third World into First World.

I'm not so sure

if that is a good thing.

I would imagine,

if Dad is living

in a kampung,

his life would

be a whole lot more

bearable.

Old age might

even be fun.

His farmer son

would have time for him,

his daugher

would dote on him,

his grand children

would be giggling

at his feet,

like the way

I used to sit

by the feet

of my Grandpa,

not understanding

a single word

he said,

his teochew accent

was way out of my league,

but just happy

to be near

grandpa.

Now Dad lives,

in his HDB.

No one at home,

other than Mum

and endless supply

of TCS soap operas.

Is that progress?

Frankly,

if I reach 80,

I would retire

to the Himalayan Mountains,

where opium

is readily available,

and die

of opiate overdose

and a happy drug induced

death