Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Misfits, Madmen & Misanthropes

Supposedly May brings flowers but over here it just comes across as a burning tropical heatwave that wilts even the hardiest blooms. So lazy sultry afternoons are upon us again, those sweltering hours of the day when the blazing sun burns till late in the evening, the boiling road steams up a dubious mirage and even the mad dogs stay hidden in the shade.

Never have I been more glad for electricity and air-conditioning. Recovering from my springtime malady and then having to face this sudden blast of hellish summer heat is almost too much. Fanning ourselves with paper fans on the verandah, we've chanced upon an old past-time.

Yeah, card games.

Though not the old card games of yore such as go fish and parcheesi. No, these days, we're more into Gloom.

Damn this tropical heat. Let's get some Gloom here. 

When the sun's burning bright right outside, it's so much more fun to imagine a place where the sky's dark and gray, the tea is served cold and a new tragedy lies around every corner. Sometimes brought upon by your closest neighbour. Which isn't all too surprising since after being dealt with a hand of the cards, we're usually playing with the unfortunate lives of the most miserable motley of misfits, madmen and misanthropes.

Then we start the game by hurling our own gloomy characters into the most lamentable events ever from being tortured by toddlers to being vexed by vampires. The more tragic, the better. Hence the name of the game. Think Happy Families crossed with Lemony Snickets.

Of course I tend to get quite attached to certain characters. While Fabulous Felix loves the rolling high life with the accursed aristocrats of Hemlock Hall, I have become quite enamoured with the dramatic dilettantes of Le Canard Noir! Honestly an entirely tragique brand of bohemian artistes ranging from a misunderstood model to the consumptive courtesan, none of whom would look even a smidgen out of place on the Moulin Rouge.

There's even Rosseau, the patchwork painter with a hearing impairment due to an overly generous gift to his paramour.

And might I say I think James de Winter, the penniless poet, kinda adorable in his own way? Reminds me a little of the woebegone Christian in the movie. 

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