WYWIWYG

I have no idea what to blog about. Also, I am sure you are sick of simply reading my post, commenting on it to be polite to me, and carrying on with your business. So, lets do something different here today. Its a little game. It is loosely based on a literary style that has quite caught on in recent times. Here are the rules -

1. If you are reading this, you have elected to participate. So, don't you walk out on me. Ok, please don't walk out on me. Pretty please.
2. I am going to write a para.
3. Person 1 reads what I have written, and adds a para in the comment section. He/she also suggests a title for the piece.
4. Person 2 most nicely reads what Person 1 and I have written in and adds another para with an appropriate title.
5. And so on and so forth.
6. In my next post, I shall stich the paras together, choose a title from the titles given, and present it to my dear readership.

Sound like fun ? *Psst - Yes it does!*

Feel free to sound exactly how you would like to sound! You can be as melancholic, melodramatic, insane, inane, idiotic, absurd, vile and anarchistic as you want to be. Violent murders, alien invaders, mushy dialogues with too much eye contact, exploding cars, lilting poetry *add to list* - anything goes.

A Million Little Pieces

Starting Point 1

..(VS)

Ahh ahh, what a catch!
What a highly suitable match!

Why he has not married yet,
Always playing hard to get.

Famous poet, so they say,
"Besh", decent in every way

...(Alraqs)

She giggled, and wiggled out of this one,
Unbeatable catches and suitable matches,
All end up the same way, up in flames, I say,
Or slip off the tips of your finger-o.

..(Ramani)

Highly sceptical, or so she seemed,
On healthy dislike, she had been weaned,
Unbeatable catches and suitable matches,
All end in flames, with none to blame.

Starting Point 2:

..(DA)

Meanwhile, he woke up, blearily. Wandered blearily round his room, opened a window, saw a bulldozer, found his slippers, and stomped off to the bathroom to wash.

Kettle, plug, fridge, milk, coffee. Yawn.

The word bulldozer wandered through his mind for a moment in search of something to connect with. Yawn. He looked it again. It seemed to be quite big. He stared at it.

... (Dee)

He remembered last night's latest Bollywood horror flick.

Bulldozer- Be careful while you're dozing.

He shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't believe he'd watched that movie for a girl.
And paid for it.

To find out she wasn't the one Atul had 'fixed' him up with for his blind date.

...(Intern)

"Ahh! The inevitable element of surprise of such trysts. The wandering mind. Movie with a blind date. Bulldozer? Eyes Wide Shut? And I paid for it! Sheesh! So which movie was it again? What a waste!"

But, he coudnt keep his eyes off her.

..(Siddhu)

But what chance did he have? She had already seen him count his last few coins - including the 1 penny coins - as he tried to piece together the horrendous amounts that cinema tickets cost in these vile days. She had seen the look of disgust the chap at the ticket counter had thrown at him as he pushed the little pile of coins towards him. She had probably heard the same chap mutter violently under his breath, 'Must either be a tramp or a graduate student.', as he tried to add the coins up. (Hardly anybody can tell the difference between the two life-forms at the lowest rung of the ladder - ask any graduate student whom his supervisor mistook for the friendly neighbourhood tramp).

But nevertheless, his eyes remained fixed upon her visage, and his hand moved inexorably towards her. Just as Nicole Kidman was preparing to take her clothes off for the 650th time in the movie, flesh pressed flesh. And then it happened...

..(Pavan)

A cockroach was crawling over his left foot. He panicked. How could he scream? He really couldnt reveal his fear for cockroaches and one-eyed aliens (and annoying girls). It being his first (blind) date, he started to hum to himself in an attempt to shift his concentration.

Then suddenly his blind date screamed. She was freaking out on seeing the cockroach. But something was wrong. Her scream was a constant high pitched "trrrrrrrrr" - like the rattle of a Californian Diamondback crossed with the whining of a kettle. How could that be ?

Then he realised that it was his alarm and it was all a dream. It was a Freudian manifestation of his fear of relationships. He then sat in a chair, thinking deeply.

..(WS)

Though everyone else knew why he was sad, he knew not. His mind was tossing, like a little boat in the swell of the ocean. He was weary. He knew not how he caught it, found it or came bit. And such a bore this sadness did make of him. He really did not feel like he knew himself.

..(Megha)

But he held on. To this little wisp called hope. Like a buoy, bobbing about in the middle of the sea.

He chuckled inwardly at his own corniness. Come on now, get a damn grip, he told himself.

..(Prashanth)

"What I need is a vacation, to cure me of these morbid thoughts!" he said aloud, to nobody in particular. The ancient rocking chair in the corner creaked, as though to show its agreement.

But I'll settle for some good company, came the thought unbidden.

PS: What You Want Is What You Get

..(Intern)

A man left alone with his thoughts - does that define good company? He had read somewhere that it does. In the thick Friday night he suddenly wanted to go out on a long walk, to come to terms with the voices exploding in his head.

She had clear vision of the situation. He needed sometime alone. She left. Did he notice?

..(AYTIDA)

He thought for a really long time and only then did he realise that the blind date he was set up with was really "blind". He could not belive it. HE was tricked....cheated... He thought again and realised that maybe it was only in his thoughts that she was really blind. Now he was really confused. Was she blind and his date?? Or was she just a blind date? He was going to call Atul immediately to ask if the girl he had set him up with was really blind.

He was shocked when he called Atul. He immediately knew it was not Atul that answered the phone. "Hello" said a female voice and he recognised it. It was the voice of the ghost from the bollywood horror flick he went to last night.......................

..(VC)

He couldn't seem to recall her name. He begged his mind to focus on the blue china vase which held his dog Dimpu’s ashes and practiced the 50$ deep breathing technique taught by Swami Yogananda .Something triggered in his memory, his heart skipped a beat, the name reminded him of strawberries and bile juice. Savithri was her name.