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Font style in TextBlock from Isolated Storage in Windows Phone

void FileStreamingCompleted(object sender, FileStreamingCompletedEventArgs e) { IsolatedStorageFile file = IsolatedStorageFile.GetUserStoreForApplication(); FontSource objFontSource; using (IsolatedStorageFileStream fs = new IsolatedStorageFileStream ("Font.ttf",System.IO.FileMode.Create, file)) { fs.Write(e.Result.byteArray, 0, e.Result.byteArray.Length); } using (IsolatedStorageFileStream fileStream = file.OpenFile("Font.ttf", FileMode.Open, FileAccess.Read)) { StreamReader reader = new StreamReader(fileStream); objFontSource = new FontSource(reader.BaseStream); MyTextBlock.FontFamily = new FontFamily("Font Name"); MyTextBlock.FontSource = objFontSource; } MyTextBlock.Text = "Changed Font"; }

Guilty as charged

One of the most inexorable state of mind wherein its faculties tend to become the food of the state itself. The two components of it are guilty to oneself and towards others. Repentance and remediation come into play and assertiveness decreases. Mistrust and blames tend to make you a hangdog. The guilty to oneself urges one to incessantly ask the same question “Why”. The guilty towards other urges one to perpetually ask the question “Howcome”. The spectre and its consequences leave you with mental ailments. People lose faith in your words as well as actions. Recuperation from the result of your misdeed reminds the affected ones how they believed in you and within a moment you filched it.   You wish you could just turn back Time and rectify everything. You want them to look at you the same way they used to earlier, but that flare of confiding in you is missing and it kills you. How tired God must be of guilt and loneliness, for that is all we ever bring to Him.  ~M...

The Triangle

The ceiling fan shadow extending towards him slowly paving the way for the impending darkness. The entire afternoon was a lull, the distant honking along with the rustling leaves of a nearby tree in tune with his heart beat tethered to the harbinger of eternal pain were settling on his ears like a melancholic euphony.  Pigeons happen to frequent the window of his room trying to pry about the triangle. The triangle is somewhat dissimilar to the legendary Devil’s triangle. Its three vertices happen to be desire, punishment and the soul. The one being pulled inside is the social being. The upshot of desire is the deplorable actions involved in fulfilling it, followed by the punishment for the doings. Thus the soul deterioration leads to underwhelm the supreme-being and hence the triangle . The pigeon mockingly leaves his room fluttering its wings as though running away from his insanities. He feels hungry after formulating the socio-geometric theorem and so the clichéd 2 min no...

12:52 AM

·        The nerves of my temple are once again taut.        Will the efforts lead to another naught? ·        Times like these create a plaintiff. Laws and policies urge me to riff. ·        Honesty once the best policy! Stays six feet under jealousy. ·        Anti-corruption movement via civil society. Some say it’s nothing but exaggerated anxiety. ·        Human development index or fuel statistics. No one there to seer or clear the politics. ·        Few ounces of petrol but beer to the brink. I do drive but I don’t drink.

Unjudged.... contd.

  previously on unjudged Act 2 Scene 2.   The moon, stars and grey tattered water objects all seem to flatter him through the night, but his thoughts are wandering aimlessly. Thud-thud droplets echoing all the way into the hallway seems to harmonize with his vacillating heartbeats, the angel and devil sitting on each shoulder persuading him for something his heart desires but mind resists. The foyer gleaming with the moonlight is boxed between the two rooms one of which is like the darkest corner of his heart other has a small flickering candle on a corner shelf. Here he used to play with his friends; echoes of them frolicking and merrymaking still exist. Those were the olden days filled with innocent mischiefs. What happened, how-come he was caught in such tentacles? But now none of this matters all of this cannot be shoved under the carpet he’s sitting on.    The flashes of mob jeering at his naked torso being whipped, the scorching flares from ab...