mollymeek (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} mollymeek) wrote,@ 2008-03-25 22:42:00 |
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"I don't speak for you. I can't. I speak to you." (I, 2008 - )
Not too long ago, but already quite forgotten, someone spoke--spoke up for himself, so to speak. Spoke against how he was treated--or perhaps not treated if you are thinking of the medical sense of the word. Or maybe I should say that he spoke about it but, it is rumored, was nevertheless interpreted having spoken against and was thus deemed to have defiled the sanctity of an institution that can simultaneously (and perhaps paradoxically; who knows?) arouse much resentment and patriotism.This post is dedicated to you and to all who have been rendered invisible by the most damning commandment of all: the state and all its institutions and supporting entities shalt be protected from blasphemy, which is defined as any form of private or public expression that the state deems potentially damaging to itself and its good name, the existence of which need not be scientifically or otherwise verifiable or proven.
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Occasionally (often, in fact), people produce and give out gases.If it happens when you are in a big soccer field and a noisy plane happens to be passing by when you break wind, no one gives a damn even if you are dying of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. But sometimes one's bodily functions might express themselves in a crowded lift. Or perhaps it really isn't you who pass gas, but if someone covers his nose and looks at you, the rest will follow suit. If you happen to be sharing a lift with your obnoxious boss, then you are in a very awkward position indeed.
Why, though, is Molly indulging in such gaseous talk? Has Molly finally fallen into the No Man's Eden of Nonspeak? Flatulence is, after all, just flatulence. You make a sound that lasts no more than a few seconds no matter how good your Qigong is. But, of course, the smell lasts longer than the sound, particularly in stuffy, stifling environments such as lifts. Someone might try to cover up the smell using some cheapskate lemon-scented air freshener bought from NTUC. But most people who are trapped in the lift, will not be able to get past the odor that has etched itself in their hearts and minds.
What lessons can we learn from the above fictional exposition on flatulence(certainly, Molly is perhaps being paradoxical again)? Note that Molly is really obliged to talk about learning lessons because she is a Singaporean kitten and Singaporeans must be constructive. Otherwise they will incur the wrath of the Big Fat Cats, the Bullies of our dystopian neighborhood. (Of course, it's another thing to be de|con|structively constructive, but let Molly not give out any more gas.] Let's start with a few FAQs.
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Frequently Asked Questions About the Production and Exhibition of Flatulence
Q1. Why does flatulence exist?
You give out gas because you've got shit. You've got shit because you are born as the wrong living thing. In other words, you have flatulence because you have got shit because you are not a vegetable.
Q2: Why do people try to suppress the gas in their own bodies?
Trust me, most people don't want to do that. Everyone knows how comfortable it feels to give out the gas down there instead of withholding it there indefinitely till it bursts out in one alarming explosion. People only suppress the gas in their own bodies because they are told to do so, directly or indirectly. In other words, because they are told that it's wrong. And there is always a price to pay when you do something wrong. For instance, people will point their fingers at you until you start feeling like you no longer have a face to face anyone and no longer have eyes to see. You will be made to feel so bad that you wish you have never existed.
Q3: Why do some people use cheapskate air fresheners to cover up the odor of flatulence?
This is a very complex issue. To sum it up first, let's just say that these people are just trying to prove that the odor does not originate from them. Perhaps they had force-fed the apparent culprit a bucket of beans, but they do not want to be held responsible for the odor, so the use of air fresheners can be said to boil down to sheer irresponsibility. Why cheapskate air fresheners? Because they sting your nose. The seeming defensive is actually an offensive. You have to respect such a brilliant military tactic.
Additionally, these people see the need to prevent any spin-offs. If I release the gas in my body, someone else might be inspired to do the same. And if I had force-fed each person in the lift a bucket of beans, the last thing I want is to have every single one of them releasing their gas in the lift. Even if I have an impaired sense of smell, it isn't pleasant to hear all the noise.
Finally, these air-freshening people have a terribly warped sense of entitlement. The truth is that they are really fans of flatulence. Their hobby is really to give out gas for their asses. However, they want this hobby to be the sole entitlement of the privileged few with air fresheners.
Q4: Is there such a thing as the right to release bodily gases, i.e. with all the sounds and smells?
By rights, there is such a thing. However, whether you can exercise your right or not depends on where you are. Nowadays the right can only be exercised in designated places called the Gas Releasing Corner. In Singapore, I think you can find such a corner at an obscure park, the name of which I have forgotten. (Yes, it's surprising, isn't it, that such a huge shithole has only one place designated for flatulence-releasing.)
Note though that you need to get a Flatulence Permit before you can release your gases at the Gas Releasing Corner. Otherwise you will be attacked by a pack of wolves and be crucified for sins that you have never committed.
I hope the FAQ section above has cleared your doubts. Now let's move on, like all respectable people.
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But where do we go from here? For if I were to really break wind here, wouldn't the gas, too, be drowned by the ever-fresh fake lemon scent? Wouldn't I be deemed to have broken The Commandment and be invisibilized?I. A born failure condemned to perpetual trying. A word that has become obsolete, but will forever continue to exist as such. An amnesiac novel lost in the tangled tendrils of its own plot. A file deleted from the Recycle Bin before it could bid goodbye to a teardrop fallen off the face, forgotten by the sadness that mothered her. What could I do with this painful paralysis?
I can't help it that I can't help, but I can't help it.
I try to remember, navigating through deformed caches, challenging endorsed lemon-stenched archives, excavating fear only to find it replenished. I depart. I refuse. I absurdize. run out of verbs.
So sometimes, I, too, fart.
Sometimes, I, too fart.
--> Oh it did? You suck. Here's one more for you.
