Christmas interlude

There was a lull in the Christmas preparations. A thousand things still had to be done, but none of them seemed to be having to be done right this instant, so they weren’t. Someone – unclear who – threw a stream of cat videos onto the living room television screen, a seemingly haphazard collection of cats doing silly things, accentuated by seemingly random Korean music

It hit the spot. The music probably had some pop-cultural significance, but right there and then, all that mattered were silly cats doing silly things. The spirit of Christmas descended, one mediated fluffy furball at a time


She had a firm belief that you could tell a lot about a person based on the contents of their bookshelves. They served as a miniature table of contents, as it were. This bookcase, however, revealed nothing. It contained the most generic, least eye-catching books imaginable. The only thing standing out was the high prevalence of crime novels, but that in itself said nothing

Perhaps, she mused, there were some intriguing clue in the fact that some crime authors were present and not others, some hidden divide plain to those in the know. She, alas, could glean no such insight

A categorical move

It’s strange, she thought, how the categories on the boxes packed while moving house only ever appear there. They should be used in other situations as well, as moods or metaphors or shorthands. “DVDs and glitter containers” – now that’s a very specific kind of situation. “Garden decorations and kitchen utensils” – it makes sense if you were there. “Cat toys and roleplaying gear” – the things that make up a life. “Bones and cutlery” – how could it be otherwise?

And then, there were the old boxes. Those packed during a previous move, which have yet to be opened. Surely, that’s a metaphor for something

Content management

It finally happened. After months and years of careful juggling, temporary email accounts and free podcast promo codes all the way, the jig was finally up. The world finally caught up with him. After all these years. Resignedly, he accepted these new terms and conditions, and thought it – like growing up – probably was inevitable anyway. At some point, you just gotta settle down

And thus, he had a permanent, bona fide, regular Audible account. It had been a long time coming


It was late. So late, in fact, that the late bus was further away temporally than the early bus. This presented a dilemma: patiently traverse the distance between late and early, or walk home

As he walked, he noticed that the buildings looked different in the absence of people. It was as if the architecture could speak freely, its design and intentions laid bare. The intention of this particular neighborhood was clear as day – it was the embodiment of a socially engineered dream, the different parts fulfilling different specified functions. There was an order to it, as predetermined as the bus timetable whose beginnings and ends he was now keenly aware of

Love, in so many words

“Is this the point where you tell me you can’t live without me, that I am your everything, that I fill some hole in your soul, something about undying love, etc etc?”

“If that was what I was gonna say, it’d be said rather quickly, I gather. But it isn’t that. In fact, all those things are the opposite of how I feel”

“How so?”

“Well, see, I’m pretty sure I could do pretty well without you. Very sure, in fact”

“This is unexpected”

“But I don’t want to do without. Things would be much more interesting with you around”

“I prefer this to the undying love routine, to be honest”