Virus

The malady has hit the world hard.

And that is one of the understatements of the year.

Experiencing a real pandemic is surreal because all those Hollywood movies don't really prepare you for it, do they? Outside my window, the street looks as innocent as it did a month back, and all the more inviting because the first time in forever, a million vehicles are not constantly trying to run you over. And yet the outside is my enemy. Somewhere in the air lurks a deadly virus, and it takes just the slightest touch of human skin to kill a person. If that's not dystopian science fiction, I don't know what is.

How am I keeping sane? Well, truth be told, I have changed over the years. I don't care about travelling around the world anymore. I don't long for adventures. What I really long for these days is a room of my own - where no one else is allowed to enter. In that context, the lock-in is almost ideal. It would have been completely ideal had people outside not been dying by the thousands every day.

I've been doing what I always do. I've been writing more pages. It's painful to focus, especially because I feel like it no longer matters if I finish the book or not. Still, if we all end up dying, at least I'll die with a fleeting sense of accomplishment.

The book isn't all that sunny either. My next book (if we come out the other side of the tunnel) will be a happier book. That's a promise to me.

Revival ... ?

Seems like I'm not the same person anymore.
I re-discovered my own blog, after nearly a  decade. Of course I'm not the same. And honestly, a part of myself feels ridiculous writing another post. Some things are best left to the graveyard.

Thing is, I'm trying to practice more. I'm actively trying to be a better writer again. Perhaps it's a futile exercise, but in a way it's a good thing too, because this blog is so dead, no one will ever find it anyway. A personal journal, or a noodling space, on the internet. And completely invisible. What a superpower!

So what will this blog be about? Not fiction, I'm sure, maybe not poetry either. Idle thoughts, maybe. Some random prose pieces that I've accidentally vomited and  have a soft spot for. Or some random prose pieces that I've accidentally vomited and deeply regret. Whatever.

The idea, basically, is to just put words on the screen. Even if it doesn't make any sense. 

The White Knight's Invention

He called himself an inventor and recited mournful poetry.

An interesting figure, generally speaking, the white knight isn't one of the most glamorous characters in the world of stories.
Mainly because he's rather old. He's frail, lost and gloomy. And his head is full of impossible ideas.
But I have always had sympathy for him.

He could be another Einstein if he knew his theories. Or had his ingredients right. His problem is that he has everything muddled up right at the beginning.

But isn't it the same with most people?

Hello Again.

Should I say, this is a start for a new year? Could be. Or it simply could be a change of things. An idea of beginning things from the beginning again. Right from where I started.

Why do we throw away new things? Or why do we hoard what is utterly worn out? What is this funny side of the mind that compels us to do things which we have no reason to do?

I don't need to philosophize. This is only a new blog.

But this is also a new year, a new chapter added to our story.
And as the days roll, I hope I have lots of things to write about. Even if there aren't many to read.

Meanwhile, enjoy what you come across.