on Holiday Weekend

It’s very late at night on the last day of Ramadan. Technically, lunar calendar begins when the moon showed so that was about four hours ago. After much fanfare of cosmicians and politicians agreed on some one thing or another. I live in a nominally civil neighborhood and they’re doing barbecues and fireworks out there. All Indonesians, even my dog was invited. Verbal went over and never ceased staring with amazement at the fireworks. I think he likes it. Quite literally a party animal, the dog.

Everybody look so happy today and I refuse to be a party pooper so I’m staying indoors for now.

I’m still wondering about why so many Indonesians don’t care. I mean, there was the whole lot of them, euphoric mums on some vitriolic nationalism dance for weeks on end after the August independence.

It made a trending topic on Twitter and I thought that was a big deal, except that nobody seem to know what it means. Everybody wants some glorified ideals from ancient text books and high school photo albums.
Pubescent, almost romantic longings for notional historical moments when things were good, right and pretty. It’s maddening.

The whole country was charmed, content, mesmerized and absolutely wishful that in completing a five yearly ritual on multiple choice ballots, they have done their sacred civic duty and things will just magically get better.

This people believe in democracy religiously, almost in a literal sense.

Meh.

Back to the question, why so many Indonesians don’t care. I wrote about this a lot and sometimes, some poor souls wonder around to find this blog and I probably got some to think a little bit but most of them i bullied away mostly for my amusement. Unlike politicians, I don’t really have to promise you anything. This is a blog. If you want to find smart stuff go read a wiki or something.

I asked that question a week ago – and firmly blaming the rising middle class Indonesians for this defect. The whole yuppy Nuremberg defense - that everyone got a mortgage to pay – just doesn’t fly. It’s a crisis. A real crisis. An economic crisis – everywhere else in the world but Indonesia. It’s a constitutional crisis, right there happening before your very eyes. On a Holy Day weekend. How convenient.

Morally bankrupt.

I used that phrase to describe myself.

I find this puzzling.

Back later.