The Sanctum

Welcome, traveller. This be the realm of Jay Niner, where everything be possible, and nothing ever happens. If, perchance, thou wisheth to tarry, then find thou a page from the Grimoire and read. For we are here in eternity, and we are in medias res.


Utter Idiocy/ Ah, back in the 502 again

It was a gloomy day in a gloomier month in a gloomier semester. Everything was in shades of monotonous sepia. Tchah. I swept the assumption aside and everything, with a jolt of reality, slid back into focus. The first sensation that followed was the burn mark on my fingers, where the cigarette had burnt itself to nothing.
Then I got up, shedding the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes. Then to the bathroom. Basin, wash, brush. Yawn.
Outside, a crow came and cawed until I threw the ashtray at it. The blasted bird flew off with an annoyed caw, then flapped away, presumably to annoy the other denizens of my apartments.
SHIFT-FOCUS to my personal ghost. That's my sister, barking orders in that endearing way of hers. I dressed quickly, to avoid more damage to my senses, which are always at their most tender in the morning. Retrieving my bag and its assorted contents from the niches and most unlikely crevices of my bachelor pad, I settled down to eat. Then I made the worst mistake in my life so far; I checked the time. Ten twenty-five. No breakfast for this starving stomach.
SHIFT-FOCUS to the annoyingly bright symbol of boredom in this world- "
SYMBIOSIS". Two minutes left. Typically, the lift was out when I reached it. That when the irresistable urge comes to murder something/someone with my ever-handy switchblade. Nah. Too many witnesses.
Then, with four seconds to spare, I checked the schedule. 502; photoshop. Ah, back in the 502 again, hounded by the five-one-oh of the college; the Thin Man. With a second to spare on my watch, I smiled hopefully as the photoshop expert cooly slammed the door in my face, then snarled and swore for all I was worth.
Well, now at least I had time... for breakfast and a blog.

"Father time's a flighty guy,
He's got places to see and sigh
He ain't got no time for me,
I'm just myself, see.

"502's just the place to be
If in attendance lies your glory;
Or if, like yours truly
You perchance arrived early
And missed entrance;
Have breakfast, that's the penance.
Bloody hell and murder on my mind
As I chewed and spat on juicy rind,
I wondered, but once more
How utterly idiotic this is to the core.
And are you any different, I ask.
Just wait, I'm taking you to task.

"Father Time's a flighty guy
He's got places to see and sigh
He ain't got no time for you.
So go and your thing do."


Unusually untitled

'Life, for the lackwit, is a tangled mess.
For the intelligensia, it's filled with cess.'
Thus thinking, I rose to the dawn,
Looking out on a dirty lawn.
I sighed, half-heartedly as before.
And for nobody's sake, sighed more.
Another day in another year,
Another smoke and another beer.

Outside, chaos reigns, relentless.
A day twisting into chaotic mess.
I keep walking, ignoring, smoking,
Watching disaster and calamity flirting.
It's odd that at the end of the day,
When everyone's done and had their say,
I have something at least to write.
An empty blog to set right.

Thanks for reading! Now get the heck out of here.