here we go again!

for those of you who're still hoping that i'm going to start a new blog someday, fret not - the time has arrived. it's here.

thank you and good night.

it's funny how i put up a long post and blogger ate it up. it knows.

so here is the condensed version:

i've decided to spend more time publishing offline rather than blogging, and after careful consideration of the options (rare posts or frequent banal stuff) i've decided to stop blogging altogether. i may return one day, but that's not on my mind at all.

to the readers of my blogs, i thank you for your comments. i blog for them and them only.
cheers.

rahul.

alchera #29.

prose / option one (a)
written in first person, the scene begins in a department store on december 23rd. as stated before you are to write this in first person and the narrator (the "i") is a man in his mid-thirties. he is single. he is christmas shopping. these are the only things you must follow. from there the story is wide open for you.
---

bloody hell.

that was mine. i saw it first. i had my bloody hands on it first. what more do i need to do? plant a flag? sign a treaty? there's no justice in this world. they took that poor blindfolded lady with the scales, shrunk her to the size of my palm and then stuck a douglas fir up her bum. bloody bigots.

oh great. they're all out of wrapping paper as well. guess it's more current affairs for the kids this year. i'll try to lay off the world news this time. i remember the grief i caused the pallenides's last christmas with that article on the christmas eve attacks in israel. little stephen thought the gruesome pictures were cool, which of course, made mr and mrs pallenides lose theirs. local news it is, then, with cheer and spirit and that sort of bollocks.

what sort of mall runs out of wrapping paper?!

oh i see mrs parekh there, looking at dresses for her daugter keila. she's got the loveliest cornflower-blue eyes and she makes sumptious christmas cookies too. santa would have trouble getting back up the chimney if he ever really stopped by their house. there she stands, holding the dress aloft in half-astonishment, as if she'd just sieved out the last gold flake from the periwinkle waters of the nile delta. and now she's gone and put it back on the rack. keila would look beautiful in that.

i've picked up the dress, seeing as how mrs parekh can't afford it anyway. she really shouldn't be walking around in here amongst these ovine bargain-hunters. she'll make herself feel worse. she doesn't belong here and only she and i know that. pity. this was the last piece. it really is a beautiful little dress.

to the check-out counter. i've had enough. i'll be back tomorrow. you haven't gotten me yet, you christmas rabble!
-

it's christmas eve, and as expected, half of yorkshire and the entire population of northern ireland is in here today. it's the same story every year, with last-minute shoppers packing the boutiques searching for exclusive gifts that were already snapped up by eager hands as far back as september.

i've picked up everything i need for yet another lonely christmas. i was standing in the line at counter five and it dawned upon me that i enjoy my last-minute clambering for presents despite the savage hordes i have to contend with. it's a different kind of loneliness here; one i can deal with.
-

there's nothing but snow out tonight. some neighbourhoods are quieter than others. some doors remain unlocked only because bolts are far too expensive for some pockets.
-

christmas morning. the images in my mind have me smiling now. i'd be infinitely happier if i could see their faces. let them think it was saint nick who put those presents in their houses. merry christmas, everyone.
-

commons sense.

the british government used the parliament act recently to bring the hunting bill into law. (the act allows the house of commons to override the decisions of the house of lords in certain circumstances.)

the complicated back-and-forth process of suggested amendments to the bill ended in a particularly memorable exchange in the commons:

mister speaker: i have to inform the house that a message has been brought from the lords as follows:

"the lords insist on their amendments to the hunting bill, to which the commons have insisted on their disagreement, for which insistence they assign their reasons. they insist on their amendments to which the commons have disagreed, for which insistence they assign their reasons, and they disagree to the amendment proposed by the commons in lieu of the lords amendments, for which disagreement they assign their reasons."

honourable members (shouting): explain.

mister speaker: i read these messages;

i don't understand them.

hubris.

along the banks we rest our tired limbs, watching idly by,
the deluge of tears that stain the soil below
i am the river from which no ocean draws its ebb and you,
you are the ocean to which no river entrusts its flow.

oh dear me.

exchange one.
by sms

r : eh.. i think i'm going to apply to stanford. can you send me your stanford essays? thanks.
me : why?
r : so i know how not to write.

exchange two.
by msn

me : speaking of christmas, check this out. http://xmaswatch.blogspot.com
a : what's that?
me : reindeer porn. you'll like it.

exchange three.
conversation

me : you have the attention span of a doorstop.
e : no i don't.
me : yes, you do.
e : no i don't.
me : yes, you do.
e : no i don't.
me : yes, you do.
(pause)
e : i do what?

kitty.

if you have never heard of the murder of catherine genovese, you must read this article. i've read about the theory (diffusion of responsibility) behind this appalling crowd behaviour and it truly is unfathomable how anyone could let someone suffer like that. 38 people could. would you?

All about the Kitty Genovese murder, by Mark Gado

staring at my own reflection.

can somebody please explain the ending to sophie's world to me?