#singpowrimo #singpowrimoday3 #daryllim D. A. R. Y. L. Do you know who (or what, poor soul) you’re named after and why? Probably some ancestor fondly remembered: a hardwon consensus wrangled through latenight deliberations on satin or even a consultative committee of aunts-to-be. If you don’t, like I didn’t then asking your parents is a gamble: names lose their shine as they brush against other words, scoured by prepositions and auxiliaries, by other names, same names but history, personal and particular, promises to untarnish -- or lead to ignominy, embarrassment or simply nothing, exposing you as a praenominal bastard: ‘It just came to our minds, you know.’ Finally I asked Ma: they had watched a sci-fi film about a cyborg-boy, a Data-Analysing Robot Youth Lifeform: Was this why I had so many namesakes in class (or did their parents go through other circuits)? And I wonder what subtle conditioning this name, these intentions, these thoughts exercised on a forming foetus -- alas -- unwelded to a microcomputer? But what struck them as they sat on folding seats, reaching periodically for popcorn and coke was simply a cute young boy. They took home a faint projection of their child: hazel, skinny, honey-eyed, and though what was delivered was darkhaired, irises brownblack with wonder, perhaps they weren’t too disappointed: like Joyce and Andy they had rescued from oblivion, from nothingness a life determined to be unmechanical and free.
Posted on: Wed, 02 Apr 2014 16:14:30 +0000
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