Feverish and Indistinct
*
All the single ladies, all the single ladies, the music pounded in the bars and he danced, briefly, without consequence, without need for approval, without cooperation. Feverish and indistinct, he had been sick ever since he had arrived in Cambodia. There were alternatives, but none were savory. Diseased fate lines. Paths not taken. Consequence coming home. Outside the sun never stopped. By 7.30am the sky was a single glare and the heat was already kicking up from the ground. His own state made it impossible to embrace wherever he was. He couldn't be free. He couldn't see what was coming. Love to shadows, black moths picking at his skin. They pay you all the attention in the world, until the money runs out, his companion said, and they both laughed in the knowledge.
Here one eyed strangers and old Asian hands gathered to help, but there was nothing they could do. He had been free and he had made the wrong choice. He was sick and the era was not his own. Too many things had happened. Feverish and indistinct, he padded around the massive mansion, as empty as his own life. The ceilings were high. The marble gleamed. There were servants to accomplish everything. All was calm. All was bright. All was an infinity that could not be mustered. He was strong. He was weak. He had seen too much. He had betrayed too many. He had seen off his friends and survived, only to end in this terrible state.
The past is a troubled vault for both of us, my son, let's not open it up. The past is a troubled country, and all was past, all was lost, he was trapped in circumstances not of his own, the diseased fate line from which he struggled to survive. All was lost but not lost, all was crazy. He felt indistinct, as if nothing had ever mattered. The paper's were full of complex stories of another era; and everything he had hoped to contain, within himself, within his own story, was as nothing. The feverish intensity of this place, of the millions, of its frontier quality and the plain intensity of other things, these days we made our own.
All was coming but not conquered. He bowed his head to the surrounding tide. Next door the clatter of construction began early and ended late. Hard lives, different lives. Sometimes he came through, sometimes he simply wasn't there. Others looked on in concern, tried to treat him like a normal person. But there was nothing normal about this terrible state. He came back, I come back, the guard smiled. But there was nothing there, nothing to say: come get me, I am human, you are not divine. The gaps in the force field, the fabric of reality, they were opening up everywhere and there was little he could do to resist. Serious things were happening. It was quaint, die hard, and doomed to failure.
If things could be rewritten, if things could be done again, he would take a different path. He should never have come here. All these things were different. All these places were feverish and discontented, as if the world itself was turning upon him. They looked with kind eyes, from the comfort of their own places. Keep coming back, they said, as if it would make the slightest difference, as if this terminal train had another destination. All the time, everything, closing in, washing away, as his stomach roiled and everything became faint. It wouldn't be clear what was going to happen. There wasn't anyway out, perhaps he would just catch a plane to a different place, perhaps there was a solution, he just didn't know what it was, not right now.
The sting of the Scotch whisky made little sense, except as a symptom of relief. The beggars came and went. All was not lost, but he couldn't feel that now. Time would take him through to the end; on the passenger train; on the path less followed. He would climb into the hills and never forget. He was heading to Sihounikville, but perhaps, perhaps very easily, it was just another mistake. The times were crowded and decayed. He could see everything and nothing. He could finally come back into his own skin. He granted an audience to the king, as the spirit between the worlds. Yet even his own riding of the border of the real made little sense; and he could impart no wisdom, no advise. Stay clear of slippery places. Be clean and comfortable. Let the days roll away, for all is not lost, you only think it is, now, sick, feverish and indistinct.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/03/01/2832826.htm
Prime Minister Kevin Rudd's admission that the Government deserves a "whacking" from voters is simply a ploy to gain headlines, Opposition Leader Tony Abbott says.
In an extensive mea culpa yesterday, Mr Rudd said he needed to improve his performance following the home insulation debacle and the delay of some government policy announcements such as health.
His deputy, Julia Gillard, says the comments were needed but Mr Abbott says they are simply the words of a "rattled" Prime Minister who wants to keep his job.
"I think plainly this is the politics of seeking forgiveness that he's interested in," Mr Abbott said.
"The thing about this 'I'm sorry' routine is that he really wants to get off scot-free.
"I think he's shocked by the scale of his Government's own ineptitude - I think that's what's got him worried."
The Government is preparing to announce its plan to improve the country's hospitals - a plan that has been due since the beginning of the year.
Yesterday Mr Rudd indicated that the Commonwealth could take more control in the funding and planning of hospitals but was unlikely to take over their operation.
"Our challenge for the future is to make sure the system is properly funded and properly planned, but it has always been my view that hospitals are best run locally," he said.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/8541790.stm
A roadside bomb has killed 11 civilians in southern Afghanistan's Helmand province, officials say.
The bomb, blamed on Taliban insurgents, hit a coach in Nawzad district, said a spokesman for the provincial governor.
The blast was well to the north of where Nato and Afghan troops are waging a major offensive against the Taliban.
Taliban insurgents have increasingly resorted to using roadside bombs as Nato countries have increased their troop numbers in Afghanistan recently.
"A newly-planted mine of the Taliban hit a coach bus, killing 11 civilians including two women and two children," said the spokesman, Dawud Ahmedi.
The Taliban has come under pressure from the increased foreign forces acting with Afghan troops but have struck back with bombings and suicide attacks.
A bomb left on a bicycle in Helmand's capital on Tuesday killed seven civilians.
And on Friday, the Taliban said they were behind an attack on the national capital Kabul which lasted several hours.
At least 16 people were killed, including 11 foreigners, two policemen and three gunmen.
All the single ladies, all the single ladies, the music pounded in the bars and he danced, briefly, without consequence, without need for approval, without cooperation. Feverish and indistinct, he had been sick ever since he had arrived in Cambodia. There were alternatives, but none were savory. Diseased fate lines. Paths not taken. Consequence coming home. Outside the sun never stopped. By 7.30am the sky was a single glare and the heat was already kicking up from the ground. His own state made it impossible to embrace wherever he was. He couldn't be free. He couldn't see what was coming. Love to shadows, black moths picking at his skin. They pay you all the attention in the world, until the money runs out, his companion said, and they both laughed in the knowledge.
Here one eyed strangers and old Asian hands gathered to help, but there was nothing they could do. He had been free and he had made the wrong choice. He was sick and the era was not his own. Too many things had happened. Feverish and indistinct, he padded around the massive mansion, as empty as his own life. The ceilings were high. The marble gleamed. There were servants to accomplish everything. All was calm. All was bright. All was an infinity that could not be mustered. He was strong. He was weak. He had seen too much. He had betrayed too many. He had seen off his friends and survived, only to end in this terrible state.
The past is a troubled vault for both of us, my son, let's not open it up. The past is a troubled country, and all was past, all was lost, he was trapped in circumstances not of his own, the diseased fate line from which he struggled to survive. All was lost but not lost, all was crazy. He felt indistinct, as if nothing had ever mattered. The paper's were full of complex stories of another era; and everything he had hoped to contain, within himself, within his own story, was as nothing. The feverish intensity of this place, of the millions, of its frontier quality and the plain intensity of other things, these days we made our own.
All was coming but not conquered. He bowed his head to the surrounding tide. Next door the clatter of construction began early and ended late. Hard lives, different lives. Sometimes he came through, sometimes he simply wasn't there. Others looked on in concern, tried to treat him like a normal person. But there was nothing normal about this terrible state. He came back, I come back, the guard smiled. But there was nothing there, nothing to say: come get me, I am human, you are not divine. The gaps in the force field, the fabric of reality, they were opening up everywhere and there was little he could do to resist. Serious things were happening. It was quaint, die hard, and doomed to failure.
If things could be rewritten, if things could be done again, he would take a different path. He should never have come here. All these things were different. All these places were feverish and discontented, as if the world itself was turning upon him. They looked with kind eyes, from the comfort of their own places. Keep coming back, they said, as if it would make the slightest difference, as if this terminal train had another destination. All the time, everything, closing in, washing away, as his stomach roiled and everything became faint. It wouldn't be clear what was going to happen. There wasn't anyway out, perhaps he would just catch a plane to a different place, perhaps there was a solution, he just didn't know what it was, not right now.
The sting of the Scotch whisky made little sense, except as a symptom of relief. The beggars came and went. All was not lost, but he couldn't feel that now. Time would take him through to the end; on the passenger train; on the path less followed. He would climb into the hills and never forget. He was heading to Sihounikville, but perhaps, perhaps very easily, it was just another mistake. The times were crowded and decayed. He could see everything and nothing. He could finally come back into his own skin. He granted an audience to the king, as the spirit between the worlds. Yet even his own riding of the border of the real made little sense; and he could impart no wisdom, no advise. Stay clear of slippery places. Be clean and comfortable. Let the days roll away, for all is not lost, you only think it is, now, sick, feverish and indistinct.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/03/01/2832826.htm
Prime Minister Kevin Rudd's admission that the Government deserves a "whacking" from voters is simply a ploy to gain headlines, Opposition Leader Tony Abbott says.
In an extensive mea culpa yesterday, Mr Rudd said he needed to improve his performance following the home insulation debacle and the delay of some government policy announcements such as health.
His deputy, Julia Gillard, says the comments were needed but Mr Abbott says they are simply the words of a "rattled" Prime Minister who wants to keep his job.
"I think plainly this is the politics of seeking forgiveness that he's interested in," Mr Abbott said.
"The thing about this 'I'm sorry' routine is that he really wants to get off scot-free.
"I think he's shocked by the scale of his Government's own ineptitude - I think that's what's got him worried."
The Government is preparing to announce its plan to improve the country's hospitals - a plan that has been due since the beginning of the year.
Yesterday Mr Rudd indicated that the Commonwealth could take more control in the funding and planning of hospitals but was unlikely to take over their operation.
"Our challenge for the future is to make sure the system is properly funded and properly planned, but it has always been my view that hospitals are best run locally," he said.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/8541790.stm
A roadside bomb has killed 11 civilians in southern Afghanistan's Helmand province, officials say.
The bomb, blamed on Taliban insurgents, hit a coach in Nawzad district, said a spokesman for the provincial governor.
The blast was well to the north of where Nato and Afghan troops are waging a major offensive against the Taliban.
Taliban insurgents have increasingly resorted to using roadside bombs as Nato countries have increased their troop numbers in Afghanistan recently.
"A newly-planted mine of the Taliban hit a coach bus, killing 11 civilians including two women and two children," said the spokesman, Dawud Ahmedi.
The Taliban has come under pressure from the increased foreign forces acting with Afghan troops but have struck back with bombings and suicide attacks.
A bomb left on a bicycle in Helmand's capital on Tuesday killed seven civilians.
And on Friday, the Taliban said they were behind an attack on the national capital Kabul which lasted several hours.
At least 16 people were killed, including 11 foreigners, two policemen and three gunmen.
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