The outfit - thoughts

 What is the idea of a "gentleman"? I've heard of the term several times and it is very prevalent around us. It is generally associated with positive characteristics of a male person in society. And over the years some characters have been associated with this, like chivalry and honor. But me personally, perhaps many of the peers have been taught on what specifically a "gentleman" is characterized as. 

The outfit starts off portraying a gentleman, a calm well traveled, wise soul who is patient with the world and cannot be surprised by most. A man who is passionate about his craft. A man who is portrayed to be so good and utterly focused at it that he doesn't have that many friends or a social life aside from it. A cutter by profession making precision suits for gentlemen.

However he also moonlights a stress-free lock box service for the local Italian mafia. He is least interested in their business, but just hosts a tiny mail box in his basement. It seems like a harmless way to earn some extra money in his peaceful life of making suits for his 'gentlemen'.

His receptionist is a young woman who is looking to get out of that town and travel the world. If I haven't mentioned it already, this is completely based in mid 20th century Chicago. Something I realize I should have mentioned in the beginning, but here we are. And you, YOU are part of my journey now. Welcome. 

The receptionist is full of life and brimming with excitement to explore the world. She sees the people using the lock box, just observes and finds and opportunity to make something for herself out of it. To the naked eye, both the receptionist and the cutter are harmless and don't have any sort of motive or interest any business but their own. But one thing that the movie portrays is how people listen. How the people you least expect to listen. And how they remember. The climax of the movie is worth watching, suspenseful, well written and sentimental towards the end. 

But what is sad to see is that how the primary gentleman of the movie was often alone with his demons. This struck a personal chord. And how he didn't have immediate kin there with him to fall back on. Moreover he doesn't open up and speaks in riddles at every turn. It is a great watch and builds on the suspense of the character, but I'm afraid I received a painting of how a gentleman like that would just need to be there for himself, fighting his demons all by himself. And that is a sad sad painting. It's beauty is glorified for the wrong reasons.

Insomnia: The cure.

I've let you down, I'm sorry.

I'm leaving town, I’ll be back.

It hit you hard, didn't it?

You’ll get my card, we’ll outrun it.

I should have known, shouldn't I?

Actually I knew, just didn't buy.

It’s been long since you had tears down those cheeks.

And now they’re back, thanks to me.

I'm weak, but I'm still awake.

I know you are too. Please sleep.

There’s something about the night, it’s all quite.

The filth inside, in constant fight.

Your silhouette, across that dark canvas.

That sight and I drive through the night.

The mistakes of my past, haunting me in this silence.

I hear you ask, seeking my presence.

I've kept myself awake, won't give in.

Not again. Hopefully never again. For you. 

Insomnia: The cure.

Obsession : the fields of Asphodel.

Random flakes and flashes of your brain child

BONDAGE

A puzzle meddling with your sleep.

You give it up; sleep, not the puzzle.

Bound, dissected and resurrected from the flashes.

Sound glitches, corrected.

Addiction, Dreams, and Fear.

DOMINANCE

Her birth, light after your darkest night.

Her growth into a spoilt brat.

Her eventual death, at your knock.

Resurrecting Nightmares.

A gruesome judge ; YOU.

And with that, the fall of Olympus.

Tables turn: SUBMISSION

The game, your master.

Sound glitches, corrected ? apparently not.

In passion, you're lost. In Ecstasy, you’re dead.

Family, Friends, Mortals, Gone.

Desperate for her love, Ignorant to the elements.

Fall at the first whip, the following clawing at your remnants.

Back to square one…

With Love, yours MASOCHIST

Flip the coin, DEATH or GLORY ?

Death : you'll be sparing the puny mortals mere gossip.

Anywhere in between, you're as good as worthless.

Obsession : the fields of Asphodel.

I've forgotten how to cry

There is this dull hollow, within.

A soldier in need of war.

She can resolve only within,

For she’s a fool at war.

Two spaces, two very different spaces.

Wave over wave, she’s struck.

POW at last, like any other longing death.

She isn’t getting weak, thus scared.

Dormant collateral damage.

Rage. Floods. Ambush.

I’ve forgotten how to cry.

That Kid

There was a kid, probably 3-4 years old. He'd come with his mother. I couldn't help but notice him. He was hyped up, full of energy and wanted to play.

He was fair, cute, and his mother had to keep an eye on him as he cruised the vicinity.

We were at church and his mother found it a bit awkward doing so, yet instincts took over and her eyes were fixed over him.

Fortunately for her, he'd geared down, just for the moment though. It was the time of ceremony, where we were to kneel down. Everyone did, so did the mother.

The kid had grown tired of sitting idle. He noticed this gesture by the people in the gathering. One would probably assume he did the same too, despite which, he visualized a rather interesting scenario.

He went behind his mother who was kneeling down in prayer, and sat over her legs. I wonder what the thoughts through her mind were then, probably nothing, probably she was used to his playfulness, yet again, just curious.

He apparently didn't find the game amusing enough. He got up, held his mother by her shoulder, stepped over her legs, with rather feeble balance, almost slipped off once, but his mother, held him up. Once he was up and relatively stable and balanced, he looked around, satisfied at his feat, cherished the elevation for a brief time and his mother helped him down.

I've emphasised the scale a bit, feel free to paint the scenario in your head with a lot of innocence and cuteness.

Innocence and cuteness : something the world had stolen from us long long ago.

Or was it a foolish sacrifice?….

St. Joseph's Cathedral.
Chengalpet, Tamil Nadu.
India.

Feb 28, 2016.

The actor

Why do we talk to mirrors in the dark hallway?

Why do we smile at them?

Is it because they can keep a secret?

Is it because you’re depraved for the service they offer?

Or Is it because they’re enslaved to the same?

The radiant candour spirit walks free,

The defiant mimic stalks, wreaking a killing spree.

We haven't lost those ancestral traits.

The hunts through those ancestral days.

With the consolatory echo that ran across framing kin,

Funny that you haven’t despised yourself as of now.

Alas!

Cheaters and liars make of the world as brethren in the same.

The mimic is weak, a feeble magician.

An unrefined statistician.

Unwary of the shrapnel left behind.

A treasury of floo, with a name inscribed.

And soon your game described.

BEWARE.

A Wave of Gratitude at

the Candour Spirit across the country.

The game I lost

It was something we did together

We didn't work hard, yet a bout together.

We searched, built, and failed.

We searched, built, and goal.       

It was something he was proud of.

Unlike me, he had done it for me.

He guided and learnt with Me.

The face I hadn't seen.

Moments to cherish throughout my life.

The supplement by constraint.

Constraint, a funny word indeed.

Constraint with anonymous love indeed.

Alas! I lost.

I'm sad, not because i I lost…