by Hans Ebert
It’s not unlike Bob Dylan singing about being Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again. Except, more and more, we seem to be stuck with, well, Stupid.
The less we travel, those frequent travel points are reduced to Barney Rubble whereas the art of conversation dries up so badly that one can actually hear the sound of one hand clapping. Why? Because you’re with the same old people and going around and around talking in circles.
We’re all grounded and locked down. It reminds me of a t-shirt I used to wear that said, “How can I soar with the eagles when I am down here with the turkeys?”
Nothing personal, but we’ve all had to downsize every facet of our lives to a point where we’re now happy to receive the crumbs. Or pretend that we are happy to receive the crumbs because what are the options? Sirloin? No one seems to be baking or breaking bread anymore.
Some of us try to create something- let’s say, music or a short film. But where’s the team? Where’s the Yin to your Yang? Where’s the Milli to Vanilli? Where’s the beef to give it some fat?
As that old song went, Kicks are getting harder to find- and this is because our “network” is shrinking.
We’re often working with whatever is out there, and, most of the time, what’s out there is what the cat dragged in.
There are those moments when there’s the urge and Silent Scream to call the Samaritans hotline, but even there, who’s going to be on the other end? Yoda?
Who’s on the line anywhere? Whose line is it, anyway?
Ever called someone recently, and after less than a minute, wondered why you bothered? Waaaaiiii? Hello? Is there anybody out there to feed one with even a soupçon of wafer thin inspiration? Or even a droplet of perspiration?
Right now in Hong Kong, we’re having something of a Feel Good Renaissance period with a Gold and a couple of Silvers at the Tokyo Olympics. How do we make these good times last?
Before being grounded, we would have known. It would have come naturally.
Today? The government will probably drag out Canto Pop boyband Mirror once again to be Hong Kong’s serial cheerleaders.
When all else fails, there’s always Mirror. Isn’t this all getting tedious? All this Mirror time?
Shouldn’t these fabulous victories be celebrated throughout Hong Kong with some creative snap, crackle and pop that’s not confined to a tweet or a staycation message on Facebook?
Talk about ideas and what could be done- if you find someone who understands what the hell you’re saying- and what you hear is Ronan Keating singing how you say it best when you say nothing at all. There’s only a roaring silence.
It’s effing eerie out there, Muldur and Scully. Is The Truth really out there or is it just more gummy bears walking through the woods wearing hush puppies and reminiscing about the good old days?
It’s like being so desperate for something to happen that one waits the whole day to watch Stradivarius run at “Glorious” Goodwood.
It’s something that some of us did earlier this week only to have Stradivarius withdrawn half an hour before it was to race.
Who cares, right?
The thing is that nobody really cares about anything except perhaps being vaccinated as this is going to make everything better and we’re all going to get out and sing about letting the sun shine in even though this is hardly The Age Of Aquarius.
Often I think we’ve regressed into being kids who are waiting for mummy to kiss our ouchies and make them better.
Meanwhile, anyone wanna send me some chain letters from Nigeria?
I have plenty of time on my hands. And hands on my time.
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