Random Musings

I haven’t worn a night gown in ages, is the line. And it’s true, you know, very true. In fact, I haven’t worn a nightgown for as long as I can remember. But that does not matter, for this is one of the days when spelling Tuesday correctly (or not) doesn’t matter a jot.

Writing that last line makes me wonder if there are ever any days when spelling Tuesday really matters. I suppose if you draft contracts or write best-selling books it might matter, but how many of us actually do that, hm? Not many, I’m guessing. I wouldn’t mind writing a best selling book, but knowing my luck, I’m probably going to end up drafting snooze-inducing contracts. You know, it might be fun to actually write a book for children in the middle of a long and very complex contract. I mean, does anyone actually ever read those things? Unless of course it comes up for litigation, in which case the judge is going to have a ball. Ah, the thought is a funny one, is it not?

Of course, the two lawyers will probably die of apoplexy, but hey, there are too many lawyers in the world in any case.

Last evening, I was all zombied out, and riding home on my bike. I came to a red light, and while I was waiting there, I noticed an old man limp to the guy in front of me. Now, the old man, he was decently dressed, not like a beggar or someone down on his luck. The old man touched the guy on his arm and seemed to ask for something. And that guy brushed him off. So he hobbled up to me, and in polite Kannada said something to me. He saw my baffled expression and switched to English. Very politely, he says “Sir, I need eight rupees for the bus”. Normally, I would not give money, but he just seemed real, you know, not like a con-man. Yeah yeah, I know, he probably was a conman, but what the heck, it was just ten bucks (What, you expected me to ask for change??)

In any case, since this followed a rather nice weekend, I say that life is fun. Not as much fun as Roman Holiday, but fun nonetheless.

TrekBuddy Map of a small trip in Indiranagar

That pink line is me wandering around Indiranagar. I didn’t sit and draw it in in Photoshop.. I used the GPS on my phone to automatically keep track of the route, and automatically generate the map.

I’m leaving for Delhi in a couple of days, and I’m going by train. So, since I’m going to be pretty much going through the entire country, I thought it would be fun to map my journey. The interesting bits will be average speed, and the route the train takes. This is dependent on their being a power port in my compartment, but I’m guessing there will be one. In case it all works out, I’ll post the trip up here, along with statistics about it.

Here’s what I’m using:
1. TrekBuddy (http://wiki.trekbuddy.net/index.php/Main_Page)
2. TrekBuddy Atlas Creator (http://sourceforge.net/projects/trekbuddyatlasc/)
3. uTrack – online GPX track report generator (http://utrack.crempa.net/)

I may also use GPSed for some bits of the journey.

for a subject line, so I just leave that be, and continue on. It’s Saturday, the origins of which are shrouded in mystery, but which is universally acknowledged to be a day of rest, one day before the actual day of rest. A day of peaceful contemplation, ideally spent mostly in bed.

Sadly, I had to clean the house. Sweep it, take eight kilograms of clothes to the laundry (yes, eight… 8), fold stuff, put other stuff away, and so on. So I did. Cleaned away. It wasn’t too bad.

Why exactly am I putting up mundane details here? Well, Mom said to me today “what’s the point of a blog that you don’t write on”. Well, this isn’t exactly a blog, but what can I say, except Hi, Mom.

So well, what’s there to say? Nothing much at all. So I’ll stop.

Yes, that’s right. Default setting it is. And what might default setting be?, you ask breathlessly. Or not, since you don’t care as you click through to what the internet was REALLY made for: Porn!

I fervently hope Mom does not read that last line. Of course, since I hope that, she’s reading this right now. Hi Mom.

Anyway, getting back to the point. Is there a point?, you ask wonderingly. I nod sagely, to a round of oooh’s. It’s besides the point that the oooh’s are the sound a bean bag makes when you jump into it. See the clever pun there? point.. besides the point.. no? Aww, come on, you got to laugh at that. Philistine!

I am laughing out loud as I write this. (No mom, I’m NOT drunk. Seriously!) I’m laughing cause there’s like a ton of funny stuff that I am thinking of writing. But my paranoid side is sending me urgent “Nay, you idiot, NAY”‘s. In a situation like this, there is only one option. Speak allegorically! Allegory, for those of you just joining us, is “in literature, symbolic story that serves as a disguised representation for meanings other than those indicated on the surface. ”

The only problem with the brilliant plan is that the people that I am symbolizing will be totally able to pierce the gauzy veil of allegory, and then come kick my ass. So what’s a guy to do. Here I am, all wanting to talk to someone/thing about this funny stuff, and I have no options. Sigh. I could make this a password protected post, but where’s the fun in that.

Alack, alas, things have come to a pretty pass. It is time, my friends, to think for a moment. Think of the starving masses, and the crowded buses. The high tall buildings, and the short fat children. Now that we have thunk it’s time to move along. Shimmy to the left, fat kid, and let me pass.

A drumroll? That’s it? Yup, that’s it. Sadly for you, my better sense prevailed. Routine boring transmission shall resume shortly.