Saturday, December 4, 2010

Slice The Lice Nicely,

This is before your birthday gift of height(!)

This is too important to ;
1) Let the days pile on top of each other to get me into the mood of writing.
2) To waddle long round' the waters to wait for the writer's block to lessen down.
3) To have the mental block be banished, BUT to be presented with a situation of not having any outlet to pour this into.

A lesson I should have learned by now, is that ;

Thus, Imma write this now, and post it as soon as I'm done. With procrastination in my core. This ought to be a hard task, yes, but I will try.

Wait, let me munch on some Metaphore Bars to get me started...

...K, done.


The spell of solitude which have plagued my 20 years of existence, have now finally been lifted. Who would've guessed, a lil' 5 footer (and 1 inch!) possessed such a strength.

Again I say,

Thank you,


Monday, July 26, 2010

A Poked Lip, Pukes Up Prickly Picks.

It feels like post-Apocalypse in here. You know, like all that's left is an endless, lonely stretch of dusty plains. Decayed ruins scattered meagerly throughout. Life feels scarce. Crows and vultures swarms the air, their shrieks echoing about the dead, brown sky. Silence is deafening, as the harsh wind whistles isolation in your weak ears. Your eyelids force themselves open, to struggle for sight as dry sand keeps sweeping in.

Then, you hear a quick, faint shuffing of the sands. As if there's something that was trying to make a quick escape and hide from you. You swiftly nudge your head to the source of the sound.

A brief moment of complete silence then, suddenly, a small, weary figure pops it's head out, slowly from a cracked wall in one corner.

And that head shivers by the thought of emergence. It then steal glances here and there to see, if there's actually still prying eyes that it thought had died long ago in the gap of prolonged abandonment.

Even if there are a few that's left, it wouldn't know if it shall bring it relief, or add more to the overwhelming paranoia. Would it be welcomed, or would it have it's arse be burned down to smithereens. But "Ahh, what the feck" it thought. It's now or never, and it's been too, too long.

So, it musters every last bit of air to pump it's chest forward out of his safety wall, and slowly brings his frail head, up. The shadows concealing his face, gradually gets lit up as his face motions upward. It then tries to speak, but he was too weak to even let out a squeak of a voice.

You read it's lips, and you barely make out what it's trying to say :

"I was never dead. I was just not alive for a while. Or, I could be a zombie, that you thought you killed in that Undead Apocalypse you've survived. Next time, remember to double tap, bitch."

Then, in a blink of an eye, even before your brain could interpret how lame and unoriginal the sentence was, it jumps right into your face in a one-two motion. A crouch, and a lightning-quick leap...then darkness.

Just pitch, black, darkness.


You died.

You died a bloody, horrible death. Along with the rest of the remaining few.

Then, silence.


Ahh, feels good to mush a mix of massive metaphores yet again. Instead of making pathetic apologies about how I'd start to keep this blog alive, again, and again. I decided to kill two birds with one giant fireball. I made a little story to both, make something out of the whole "coming-back" situation, and to warm these fingers up.

So, thankyou for to whoever that's left. I bid a very enthusiastic hand-wave.


Sunday, March 21, 2010

Tom's Thumb Is Stuttering From Stamping That Stump.

Holy sweet raping tentacles of Krakken, it's been forever and one night since I was last here.




This is awkward.



Oh whelp, so what do you do when it's too embarrassing to apologize kids ? . Yes, you play the blame game. And for my victim of blame, I'm pointing my finger to the flock of birds, that seem to be able to lift a whole goddamned whale.

Holy Tweet.

Yeap.Twitter. You know, updating it as soon as it happens-Twitter ? . Yeah, that. But you can only tweet and retweet for so long til' you realize, you can only do so much with 140 characters. You can hardly describe how good your last meal was until you see this "-16" , indicating you have to read back and shorten "hahahaha"s into "lol" , remove all irrelevant smileys and convert links that are too long into "tinyurl/tediousx79". For a guy who has a lil' knack for writing, this is a big deal. In the long run, it removes a large portion of the satisfactory factor in writing full, complete sentences (WITH SMILEYS !) . So guys, here I am, slowly returning to the soil of origin.

As inanimate as this little blog of mine is, I actually, honestly, feel guilty for abandoning you for so, so long. Sure you don't have wobbly, puppy eyes to buy my piles of pity, but if I steer my eyes a little bit to the right, I'd see this heart-shattering sight ;


Won't you look at that. Only one measly entry, ONE, in January. And what month is this ? . Yeap, it's March and it's ending fast. I didn't even feed my poor baby a single post in February. What..have I done. I am a m-monster. Is that your ribcage poking out of your frail little chest ? . How in the world did your eyebags works in revers..HOLY FUCK IT'S YOUR EYE SOCKET. I..

Don't you miss my metaphorical, exaggerated nonsense ? :D

Don't y-

Moving on. If I keep going on this rate, I'm gonna have less than 15 posts by the end of 2010. That's like the weekly rate of any normal blogs. Ain't it ? . I can't keep doing this. I can't keep starving my virtual stomach of thought from blog posts. Writer blocks, be damned.

No, not that my life has been an empty abyss. In fact, if I were to update on every single interesting thing that has ever happened between the HUMONGOUS gap from my last update, it would be quite a wholesome read.

I tell you what, for my next few posts, I'm gonna do a montage of what has happened, the notably, fairly interesting ones. Be it in January, it's gonna be written in March. Then, from there on. We're gonna do it at a constant pace, where the gap between when it happens to when it was written would be a week max. YES, THAT IS THE CONSTANT RATE IF YOU HAVE BEEN READING.

So, I'm done with dusting off this whole, cob-web filled space for now. I have rolled the boulder of pace off the cliff, for now. So please do still tune in :)

Monday, January 4, 2010

Two Thousand Ten Tools, Thorns, And Tins.

Can you believe it ? . Can you believe that Hitler only had one testis ? . And even with his singular seed-maker, he did far more devastation than any ol' regular pair of ball bearers could ever unleash. Unbelievableh.

I can't believe how frikkin' fast 2009 took a dump, flushed it and disappear forever too.

Is it just me, or time is getting faster, day by day, year by year, stomach by stomach ? . Or is it the fact that I wake up on evenings, and sleeping at sunrises made it to appear so ? . There is still 60 seconds in a minute, and 24 hours in a day, but..why ? . Wuh-frikkin-hy ? . I am aware that this is one of the little signs of the forth coming Apocalypse, but how the hands of clocks are rotating, ever so progressively rapid, is just giving my brain a solid atomic wedgie.

Lock me your knuckle, if you're like me, having your 2009 to-do list to be ticked less than a survey asking the appeal of hairy warts. Or, knock the fist harder if you're not even sure any of em' was ticked. Sure, you know you did something. But none of them was significant enough to make any difference between the 1st of January 2009, to the second you're reading this. Or, just straight-up give me a bear hug for procrastinating and piling things up so much while thinking "There's always tomorrow" every single time. And poopf, before you know it, a year just went down the gutter.

But nothing can ever be as mind-boggling, as hard to wrap my mind around, as "Oh shit - this ain't happening", as the fact that,





..I'm turning 20 this year.

YES, THE BIG TWO-O . The age where there's no longer a -teen behind your age, but a -ty. TWENT-TY ! . Which doesn't stand for ;

T = Too
Y = Young


T = Tata'
Y = Youth.

It's the age where when you were little, you thought when you're big, you're gonna have a beautiful wife and kids, a big house with an indoor pool and a zero-gravity room (just because you f-in can), a big car and your dream job of building spaceships and buses for aliens you bump into during one of your space trip. Because you think technology will be that f-in awesome in the future of when you're 20, at the time.

But here I am and my anorexic wallet. And not even on the first step of the process of building a family. Hah, the last metaphore was pathetic with a capital everything. And I hope, by some twist of fate, by some glitch in coincidence, that - would at least be attempted.

I will - this time around, grab Chance by the nutsack for everytime it passes. And not regreminisce. Regreminisce. Ain't that the coolest word you've ever seen.

Pass me today's paper and my morning coffee, ADULTHOOD HERE I COME ! *putting on the fakest face of enthusiasm ever.

Ah screw this, I'm reading the comics section and Imma drink a Cola, it's black and has Caffeine too. What's the diff.

AGE IS JUST A NUMBE- who am I kidding. If only there's such thing as twenTEEN.

Anyways, now is now, and now is won. And that sounded sophisticated and doesn't make sense. I've got to learn to adapt. This year, something HAS got to be done. I mean, come on man, I made past through two decades. I want, by the end of '10, the "What if's" and the "If only's" that has been playing in my brain since forever to step into reality. IT JUST GOTTA. God, please pave the roads leading to em' infront of me.

For me, '10 started awesome, and continued being awesome, and later met one of the shittiest twist in my life, ever. In which, I will, or might, elaborate in my next post :) .

Happy Twenty-O'-Ten guys :)