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.


The Road taken everybloodyday

Went out for a walk today. And a smoke. And I met this old boozehound along the way, sloshed out of his balls, running the razor's edge behind a particularly violent truck.
And what did he say? Nothing much. He was drunk. It was just interesting, watching him chase that monster along the thin little asphalt strips that pass for roads around my pad. I wondered what happened to him afterwards. When I returned, there was a big enough crowd on the way, and I couldn't see through them; but I could guess what they were hiding.
How? 'Coz I saw the truck driver not too far away, held by several members of our disgustingly moral society.
Accidents. So many of them have been happening around here. And five of them involved two-wheelers. I'm just wondering when I get my turn on the stage. 
Driving a bike along Wagholi is just begging for trouble. The sad thing is, the traffic couldn't care less unless there's a sizable difference between victim and wannabe murderer. And they're immensely bored. So the slightest excuse for an accident will do, providing it involves a biker and an obscenely large truck. And a Punjabi, preferably. 


Thinking ahead

Been doing almost nothing but reading this last week. Brandon Sanderson. China Mieville, Patrick Rothfuss, Dan Simmons, E.E. Knight and my constant companion of two years, John Norman, from whose considerable repertoire I have but three books left to sample. That's saying something because John Norman is bloody monotonous after the first few books, and then suddenly from around the twentieth book onward, his plot gains momentum, and Tarl Cabot stops being a brat and decides to do something big.
I finally got around to deleting my Facebook account. What a pain in the ass. Facebook, Mark Zuckerburg, is becoming a farce. A nice big farce that we can all laugh at, because not much of it is actually true. 
And last, but not least, I've got to start paying more attention to the newest twist in my life - I managed to get a job.
Quite accidentally, too, but who's complaining? It's bril. I get to sit at a desk and edit for seven hours. No running around like I did a few years back, trying to find a story which may/mayn't interest the editor. No. This time I HAVE THE POWER! Or at least, a taste of it. My ass, currently, is under the jurisdiction of the sub-editing department of the irredeemably esteemed The Hindu. In Bangalore. It might not be the booze capital of India, but Bangalore has the works. And cheap rent. Hooray.
The sad thing about it is that I have nothing to complain about. Like an artist without his muse, a cynic (even an aspiring one) can scarcely turn his nose up at life without going through some measure of stress. And right now I've got absolutely nothing to be worried about.
And that should worry me. Because this is the time in a man's life when Fate in her obnoxiously complicated way decides to throw in something permanent into the mix. Young? Check. Bachelor? Check. Staying alone? Check. Independent? Check. 
That sounds like such a recipe for trouble. Broken bones, obsessive girlfriends, sadistic landlords, house problems... a lot of ouch for comparatively little bang.
Right now, I'm just killing time, waiting for several of my downloads to happen. I just pulled out this blog, after twitter, and realized that I'm going to have quite a lot of free time in the coming months. Which means I need to get my priorities in order. I need to know exactly what I'm going to be busy with in that free time, and how I can maximize that to full potential. Kya kare, the life of a slacker is full of complications, like who's going to make me a sandwich. After all, the acquisition of lunch is, according to Douglas Adams, one of the biggest questions of life.
Eh. Let's wait and see. I foresee a lot of problems in the next few weeks. Hopefully, I won't be inspired to take longer hiatuses from my social responsibilities, i.e. blogging, tweeting, downloading, et al. There will be time between rum shots and joints, between acid and coke, between intoxication and subsequent depressions, to waste some time doing something a bit less constructive. Depends on perspective.
Well, let's see. In either case I want this job for at least a few years so that I can concentrate on other stuff. Psychology, Creative Writing, Literature, learning German, trying MMA... got a list ready. Now gotta get meself shipshape.