Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.

Just when I'd stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.

Don't you love farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.

Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer,
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.

[Thanks to karl.krebs@colorado.edu for lyrics]

I heard this on TV just now... and again, rush of memory. Is memory something there, like a ghost. trapped for an eternity, just bidding its time? A fragment suspended in a no man's land where time stands still, forced to repeat itself over and over again when called?

I was standing next to the piano, my singing teacher there where she always was in front of it. She handed me the music that she wanted me to try, and there it was,  Send in the Clowns. I don't actually remember whether it was cold or hot. In the music room, the temperature was usually quite well regulated. I was in my blue and white strip uniform shirt, and the puffed up pleated uniform skirt. Navy blue of course. My feet in the dark blue socks and the trusted, dark brown shoes. Funny thing that pair of shoes... They were never what I would normally bought. I bought them when I still lived in Singapore, not knowing that in a few months' time, I would be packing everything up and moving to England, and starting my life in England, in a boarding school. There would be no better orientation into all things very English than that.

I hummed along to the music coming out of the keys, to get the feel of the song. I was, and am, no singer. Holding a tune is pretty much all that I can do. But singing made me happy/sad/excited. It plugs straight to the emotions and bypass all the bullshit. Just like acting, just like running. Maybe that's why I pursue it now.

I don't know the story behind this song, perhaps it's time that I find out after I finish this blog. From what can be gathered, it seems to be the story of an actress, a performer, coming to the end of her career. Self-depracating, immensely sad loaded with a great sense of loss. I opened my mouth, and sang it.