Monthly Archives: October 2012

Prose #2 – The Boy

Well, this is really more like prose four or five, except the others were postscripts added to the end of other posts. Nevertheless, read on if you will. If you’ve been reading my other fragments of prose, you might recognise this as from the boy’s point of view. If not, it doesn’t matter: take this short work as an experiment in writing.

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Carrying the Fire, or…Why Do We Keep Going?

I must begin by apologising for my rude behaviour, that is, not posting on Friday. I have a list of excuses but I’ll only say one: I was tired. I am human. I am sorry. Now enough of the melodrama, and on to Sunday’s post which will be a ramble/reflection: Why do we keep going?

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I Loathe Thee, NaNoWriMo

…and you haven’t even begun. I’ve gotten a little page up with a novel summary and everything, and I now have a rough idea of my planned NaNo journey. Seeing as my month-long toil will be concentrated on the novel from which all my excerpts originate, I hope it goes smoothly. Relatively. Somewhat. From this sketchy planning and a wide-reading of NaNo tips, I have already concluded:

-I need to follow more writing blogs (feel free to recommend some!)

-I don’t drink coffee, I may need to start.

-I have to finish this challenge now that I’ve let all of you guys know about it along with a few literary-minded friends from school.

-There are not enough hours in a day.

That is all. Also, Bjork is one of the strangest singers I’ve ever listened too. More about that on Friday during my rant. And I wanted to give quick shout-outs to NicoLite for starting and sticking to his own Post-A-Day challenge, and pineappleflavouredpeople for sticking to her Habites challenge for thirty-four days! More inspiration for me to stick to my NaNo one! 😉

And I leave you with an excerpt (my apologies if you are sick of these by now, but unfortunately you shall be inundated with them almost everyday of November if you follow my blog. What’s that? You arrived here through some strange internet search and are not yet following? Clicky-clicky.)


On the days when he remembers that which he does not like to, he speaks to himself. He talks about the weather and the latest corrupt government official (there are many of them.) Sometimes he talks about conkers and spinning tops and the things he used to play with as a child. Sometimes he is a good listener. Sometimes he is not, and at these times he becomes lonely in the solitude of an English home.

Other times the boy comes to speak with him. It is the only time when he sees the boy relaxed because there is no death in his English home, and thus nothing to fear. They talk about everything and nothing but mostly about the things which they fear. Rhododendrons and people, for the boy. Honey and cypress, for the man. Death for them both. And sometimes he can see the boy’s wings, but not always. On rainy days, they have a tendency to disappear.

Multiculturalism Or Integration?

But can the similarity overcome the difference?

We had an interesting debate in my Philosophy class the other day: we were discussing, amongst other curious ideas, whether the British government’s philosophy of multi-culture was a good thing. Our teacher mentioned that a lot of the conflicting feelings over it came from the fact that, back in the 50s and 60s, immigrants to Britain would assimilate into the culture. However, in recent years, that hasn’t been happening because of a push for multi-culture, and now there are people living in Britain who want nothing to do with the British and cling to their own culture, refusing the society they live in.

Do you think this is right? Which do you think is better: multiculturalism or integration?

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Spinning Top

Ah, writing day, bringing with it an attempt at poetry. Disclaimer: Not my strong suit.


We ran away we did

to where

the angels landed

when they fell to earth and

lightning storms grew

in the nodes of green legumes.

Where we thought that

they couldn’t find us.

And on the third day

there you were


around like a spinning

top, crashing

into glass roots and dead trees

displacing gods and sprites and

thunderstorms, trying

to claw your way back to heaven.

A Short Toast to My Thirtieth Post

Cheers guys.

I’m so happy, I feel like writing parts of this in Mandarin. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to put the tone signs on the words with an English keyboard; this escapes my moderately tech-savvy skills. Nor do I know the pinyin for every word to be used. Woe is me. But I am glad to have reached 30 posts! I’ve been blogging for 2 months and 1 week as of today and I’m surprised to have gotten this far. I’m also ridiculously happy to have the readers I do! So thank you everybody! 8000 views and 187 followers; hopefully we still have a long journey yet. 😀 I will leave you with this further story excerpt if you deign to read it (don’t worry if you’ve not read the previous ones, they’re all rather stand-alone.)

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What’s So Great About This Thing We Call Democracy?

Positivity Link: Disney and occasional cases of decency.

It’s election time in America again and the media will not let us forget it. I live on the other side of the ocean, and yet there’s still talk about Biden and Ryan and a whole sea of Obama supporters (for some reason us Brits don’t like Romney. I think it’s something to do with the Mormonism. Or the unnerving smile.) Even here in English politics, the entire country was able to groan when Nick Plebb “apologised” for his party’s lies and then readjusted his tie in preparation for the 2015 elections.

Politicians on both sides of the world are preparing for their slinging matches and proud voters are buying badges and shirts to publicly affirm their support for X party. And I have to admit that I just don’t understand it at all. Democracy seems to be a popularity game, with an entrée of lies for the voters and a main course of unfulfilled promises. And yet the public buys into it every single time.

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