by | | Random
Recently, a fellow friend who prefers to remain autonomous decided to take up blogging.
He calls himself Tryptology. (although i dont really know what it means, it sounds cool !)
Sometimes, science just fails to explain every pheomeon in the world. That is when self-invented theories come in. They do not have to be proven! (not everything is proven either) It can be illogical or just based on tapping into the knowledge of the universe.
Today, Trptology has decided to follow the lead and come out with his own theory on caffeine headaches:
I have a theory about caffeine headaches. They are the result of toxins built up in the body accumulated through caffeine use. My hypothesis is that caffeine halts the natural detox process in the body. It triggers the body’s emergency flight or fight response, prepping it up for an ‘ultimate state of mind’, relieving pain, postponing sleep and rest, etc. This accumulates a kind of body ‘debt’ which expresses itself in the form of fatigue and toxin accumulation. Of course, repeated caffeine use halts the user from feeling these symptoms. It is only when they stop caffeine, are they alerted to the true state of their body.
I kind of agree with that, i just can’t seem to focus without coffee!!
Did i mention that i spent $60 on coffee alone the past month?
Coffee is a real killer.
Visit his new blog at http://tryptology.wordpress.com/
by | | FlashFiction
Falling back into
a deep deep dream
I wonder if i could ever
wake up
my warped memories
a haunting darkness of evil laughters and pointing fingers
They gather around, pointing, laughing
I buried my head in my arms, kneeling in the middle
I screamed and screamed, trying to drown out their laughter
Eyes of green sinister fabrication is all i see.
wake up…
My warped memories
A teardrop of undying pain drips across my frozen cheeks
My lover tries to wake me up, i could hear him but i can’t feel him
In a deep deep coma in darkness, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.
wake up…
My warped memories
A hundred girls being dragged out of their homes
By devil like faces with a long heavy sword,
Raped right in front of their ancestral homes
and killed immediately before sunrise
wake up…
My warped memories
Taking me further away from the darkness
There is no reprieve from the devil’s shrine
Drifting heavier and heavier… crawling weaker and weaker
Towards the light at the end of the tunnel
before the darkness consume my soul.
“Wake up”.
by | | World
There was once i asked my mum why did she take up classical piano.
She replied, “Music is a universal language, no other language can replace it.”
For my typically bimbotic handbag perfume loving mother to say something so profound shocked me initially, i recovered after a while and pondered about it. No matter how much i tried to argue within my heart, i couldn’t find a better argument for her statement (i am used to arguing with her when she says illogical stuff like sleeping with my cat makes me sneeze).
“There are so many barriers in languages, not everyone can understand the differences in language. For music, it is different, everyone can understand the emotions in music, and that is what makes it such a powerful communication tool.”
It is true, no matter how flowery or brilliant language can be, its impact is limited within that few words in a statement (that is if the person reading it has a good comprehension of the language in question). Music is different, its impact is so powerful that anyone in the world can be swayed with its emotions.
Which reminds me, when i was in St Francis doing my A levels, a teacher called up an “ah beng” from my class to play the piano. With tattoos all over his chest and tattered knuckles, i thought he was the least likely candidate to be able to play the piano (more like karate).
“Play us a song about how you feel” My music teacher kindly instructed. When he sat on the pedestral and started moving his fingers across the keys… i was astounded. I could feel his emotions as he played the notes… his body swayed with the melody as he transported us to another land. My impression of him changed drastically after that, i did not see him as a gangster, in fact, i admired him.
by | | Private
by | | FlashFiction
Existence is just temporary.
The beauty of life is the little moment of display of our beauty
Like falling raindrops, our existence ceases once our time is over.
It is just a passing phrase, a short memory of happiness
Before misery sets in, regrets of the past
No one will ever want to grow up, no one will ever want to live forever
It is just that split second of happiness in life that we are living for
After that… it is nothing.
by | | Private, Random
by | | FlashFiction
She stands deep in the middle of a round tower, trying to look out above her head.
The stars filtered the night sky… filled with little tiny signs of hope.
She tries to find a way out but there isn’t a way.
She was all alone, and it seems like eternity.
Her long golden curls caressed the stone floors…
The high walls seem to hold her and not let her go
She screamed and cried but no one would hear her endless pleas…
Forgotten… like the wind.
by | | World
The world is full of people that pretend to be who they are not.
They boost of extraordinary feats when they are nothing
I call them fakers.
They are just living in denial.
An imaginary lie.
A sad sad one that is.
I hope they do realise that they need to DO something instead of not doing anything…. things happen for a reason. It needs a strong intention to manifest it into a physical form… that is real.
Sometimes they really make me sick in the stomach. Not everyone is dumb to believe in their fantasy world and i hope they stop trying to brainwash others into a “paradise” at the end of a cliff.
by | | Photoshoots
I just love the new web layout.
Minimalistic black.
Visit the collection at Ejun Low Portraiture
by | | FlashFiction
An empty box sits in corner of the walls
Disappearing shadows walking back and forth
There was not a single street light in the dark alley
A soft sound faded as the box jerked unexpectedly
Whispering voices dissolved into the midnight skies
A gush of cold wind blew, pulling the leaves as it wandered
It moves again, in a weak attempt to break out of the box
A muffled cry broke the silence, but no one was there to hear
An empty box it remains, or so it seems to be.
