Songs, Site and Sleaze.

We are all bathroom singers, even the most astute and reclusive diplomats always have a song playing in their minds as they purge the day’s dirt from their bodies. I tend to think that the song you sing as you bathe is somehow reflective of your current state of mind. Though this argument has no rational or scientific basis, I somehow knew that something was going wrong with my mind, when I found myself singing ‘We wish you a merry Christmas’ followed by ‘Jack & Jill’ in the bath. Disturbing indeed, because this would be indicative of a shrinking mind, or rather, a shrunken mind able to shrink no more.

Those around me, presumably with more mental faculties, find themselves singing the songs from Robot, a rather stupidly titled, stupid film by a stupid actor. Yes, I said all that because I cannot see any reason why any sane director would allow a blur to pass off as a man running on the side of a train. A sage once told me that I’d be able to find camels in the arctic sooner that I’d be able to make sense of a Rajnikanth flick. I need all the luck I can get as far as that goes, unless, the Camel he was referring to is the cigarette brand.

Back to the subject of mental sanity, I’d like to introduce everyone to the concept of ‘site’. Site is a place, as you must have concluded, and you would be right. Just as all the laws of physics are broken in the space surrounding a black hole, all laws of logic and sense are broken at site. Site, is the beautiful term used by those in the engineering and construction business to describe that oasis of noise, their very own Garden of Eden, the place where you can do as you please, as long as nothing falls on you; it is nirvana for those who desire it and a mind numbingly boring place for those who do not. See, most construction sites are not in an already established urban agglomeration, they tend to be in places that have no facilities, what so ever. Like sub Saharan Africa, or the Malawi desert, or the Antarctic plains for instance. You are the warriors of the Empire, only now you do not salute Queen Elizabeth; you salute the CEO/CMD of your respective organisation. Yes, the sun never sets on Corporate-ania.

Site, is where time slows down for you, just as for man in a spaceship nearing a black hole, it moves as half the speed it normally does. The pyramids of Giza slow down time due to their immense mass and by extending that logic to the construction site, with the immense amount of concrete and other material that is being amassed at one place, you can begin to see my point. Site is where normal men, with normal orientations, suddenly start looking at dogs and animals in lecherous ways. It is where others take to talking to motors and transformers. The more mentally unstable start claiming mosquito infested rooms as their personal fiefs, and occasionally refuse to leave their confines for fear of an invasion in their absence.

It is also rumoured that when at site, you can see aliens in the sky, if you stare at a certain part of the sky long enough.

But site is also where people hope, where dreams are born, where that germ of an idea is allowed the thinking it needs to grow in to something bigger, site is where friendships are made and toes broken, it is where things move and where machinery meets man. Site is where it’s ok to be the mental age of a toddler and to suck your thumb as you hear machinery roar into life. Site, therefore is all things to all men.

Like the Volkswagen Golf.

It is not for the faint hearted and I would not recommend it to people who have spent their entire lives living in the confines of civilization. It’s a jungle out there, and the office is where the snakes are. Yet, the real Steve Irwins are not in an office, they’re at site, bringing urbanisation to the less fortunate and less economically capable.

Cheers from site!