Running Out of Things

 

I always run out of things to write about.

It always happens. 
Then i look back at my life and try to envision what it would be like if all of my dreams were real.

I close my eyes and I fail to imagine it.

I am not able to find words. 

Mouth runs dry save for a cold breath.

If only I could tell you how it feels.

This exact feeling when I am hopeless with everything. 

When future isn’t a bright promise but a nightmare.

These cribs about an unjust and unfair existence.

Say mind is free and soul is forever young.

But mine is reduced to a failed imagination.

There are things I tried when I was desperate.

Mind me If I say I’ve lived the 24 hours of a single day inviting hope when I laboured on.

Hope came when I was down,

It lifted me into the high skies where I saw the Sun and felt its warmth on my skin.

It was all, a moment.

Hope is gone now and the Sun burns my skin.

I have forgotten the emotions I used to feel while crying.

Dry eyes ache but they do not conceal anything.

I am done with disappointments.

I have forgotten what they meant and how they affected me.

For all the care in this world,

None is for me.

Life isn’t roses and sunshine and it isn’t fair.

All I can say is that the thorns are picky about people.

Call it cynicism, pessimism or whichever word you deem right.

Doubts flicker as I know things.

There is no fight with the world.

It knows me well to spare me.

Plight is just a thing said to cover the big picture.

And this life that people so often speak about, 

They attribute words to deepen its significance.

Nothing is significant and none is worth saving.

Religion and money should be synonyms for life.

For everything said and done in this brief life of mine I have understood nothing.

I could feel love in my flesh and bones.

Only if it had something to do with my hunger.

I am hungry and this feeling is the worst there is.

I want to break out of this cycle but it is not allowed.

I must confine myself to these breaths and hopes.

Running away is not an option. 

Advertisements

The Girl with All the Gifts – New Teachings

There are a number of limited things one can include with zombie movies before they get boring. Sure, there are zombies hungry for humans and brains and ‘the humans will go extinct if a cure isn’t introduced’ drama. That’s true for every movie with zombies in it. Needed are exceptions to rule. Zombieland and Shaun of the dead were such exceptions.

Enter ‘The Girl with All the Gifts.’

The movie starts with a kid counting from one to thirty. There is little to tell, except obvious things from hush and push that it’s a military base with kids. The kids are strapped to chairs and they are assembled in what appears to be a classroom. The teacher makes them remember things from the periodic table. Many kids fail here. But Melanie. She’s intelligent. Following events happens where the base is overrun by zombies and a group of survivors manages to get out.

The gifts Melanie has, this movie explores them. Writing them would be like writing spoilers. I’d refrain. There is a certain innocence to the character of Melanie. Her primary instincts make her dangerous to others, but she’s kind to Miss Justineau. It’s shown when she, unsuccessfully, tries to refrain herself from attacking her. She knows trying is futile, but she tries anyway. 

The aerial shots of a ravaged human world, they are beautiful. Beautiful in a sense that the aesthetics of theirs have been withdrawn and overrun by vegetation. They are not a tool to move the story forward, but rather distractions. This movie doesn’t concern itself with the world and its saving. It has a group and it’s focused on how each person is different in it. Survival is paramount for everyone. They want to live. But there’s more to them, like Dr. Caldwell wanting to make a vaccine and Melanie trying to interact with the newfoud world.

I liked this movie. For it has something exceptional for the zombie movies. 

Wild Tales – Wild

Take a normal thing. Shake it. Upside down. Sideways. Shake it till you are content. Now, what you have is the same thing, but twisted. 

Wild Tales is an Argentine-Spanish movie. It has six tales. Each one in its own setting and characters. Mine favorite is Pasternak.

These tales are wild for sure. But for them to be wild, they follow a safe path that never makes them ridiculous, saving them from absurdness at the same time. They have passion driven characters, who just let themselves go. Contemplation takes a backseat and its pure passion. The separate tales are like thoughts of an person who often wonders with what would happen situations. The comic element is one which is left for the viewer to find. 

I liked this movie. I found it hilarious. 

These broken bits do not tell any story

These broken bits do not tell any story.

Say they do not get well along with each other.

They murmur quietly to them as they go with the day.

Everything is uncertain and unanswered.
They and the Gods seem mutually done with each other.

This jail has got their cruel comfort, confined.

They don’t have the hero who can save them.

Save for the hope which slogs them day and night.
Their simple faces do not have the crux of a good life.

The essence is grief has not captured them.

But the regularity of their common notions fails them,

As to why they can’t tell from need and want. 

Moonrise Kingdom – Let’s Run

Monday is an odd day. People have work to do. I got none. So I watched a movie.

It’s Moonrise Kingdom. A movie by Wes Anderson.

It has a runtime of some 1 hour and 35 minutes. It runs fast when it has to, settling down once in a while to offer some humorous bits.

So, Sam and Suzy are two kids. Sam is an orphan and Suzy lives with a quirky family. They aren’t liked by anyone. Misunderstood kids. They meet at Church and become pen pal. They find comfort in letters and one day, they decide to run away. Then, the whole island searches for them with a storm looming over them.

It is told like a fairy tale. It settles itself to you, making sure you are at ease with its oddities and then, it presents subtle twists and turns. The dissatisfaction of adults with their lives while having the urge to run away, presents itself with the kids. The difference, the kids run away. Maybe it is deeply rooted in young ones that life is their play and they shouldn’t be afraid to grab it and shake it until it’s right, or atleast feels right.

This damned verse

Here is the song the damned souls of the world say.
Oh God up there in the sky,

We are doomed.

Damn this life and its meaning,

& I don’t see any sun.

Life’s been hurting,

Ever since it began,

I’m done with it and its pain,

Hope now spells itself hell.

It seems like I’m crying,

For bitter and cruel is its taste,

Trust is gone with unanswered questions,

Too late it’s been for rain.

Was the world cold before,

Or it happened since I came.

I know the taste of losing sense,

What has happened, what begun.

We are losing souls by the day,

They don’t bear these cold nights.

For we cry out too loud,

And the dead silence does

Pry deep into our lives.

All said and nothing done,

A man was never known so.

You ask us to love you,

Where does yours go.

Questions pop up out of surface,

If you have got other plans.

Tell us if you always seek attention,

Or it just happens so.

You are the cruel thing,

We are your bitter fun.

Poked and pried by you for none,

You seek attention, maybe it gets you high,

The chiming bells and the help asking cries.

You like your pride and the begging prayers,

You hurt them because they aren’t near.

All this drama is painful and insane. 

For your angels and demons,

Damn your heaven and hell.

Burn them holy books,

Raze your homes to the ground.

We’ve killed each other always,

Instead of killing you.

This blind hatred which runs amok in our hearts,

Blessed the world would be if we didn’t have a heart.

Sick

It is 11 P. M. I am up. Sleep is nowhere.

This world. I don’t know what kind of a place this was, and has become. I was reading newspaper, the Hindustan Times. I saw this news and now mind is sick.

I am not sure of the feeling I have right now. It’s mixed. There’s disgust, rage, shame and a lot more I can’t recognise.

I want to write long paragraphs, condemning these horrible acts. I can’t. I am numb with an inability to act on anything specific.