Rambling and rattling
one of the 2 houses next door (it seems to be one big plot of land, with 2 giant houses) caught on fire tonight. As to why and how it happened, one can only guess. It was such a huge raging fire that when i first saw it through the glass panes, i thought it was mine on fire and i almost freaked out. Thankfully, it’s settled and the fire brigade got here quick enough. Unfortunately, i judging from the size of the fire and the amount of water needed, i think the house is quite destroyed.
JB Jeyaratnam is gone too. Personally, he was one of the first few political figures i have ever studied, rather than the Australian ones, because he was a “home” character. His life struggles with the PAP will never leave my memories. They were shocking, a bigger revelation than what I was used to, and funny how… I only found his biography here in Australia. Obviously, to some people, they might view him differently from me. I always thought he left an interesting mark on the Singapore political scene - fighting, will not back down, will not be “bought” by nice speeches or insincere gestures.
His was a long, dramatic life where he did not back down. Goodbye sir, thanks for all the time you spent on Singapore. No matter how much or how little, you left a mark that can not be erased.
This poem, by Dylan Thomas, probably sums him and all he has done up the best.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.— Dylan Thomas
contemplative
