I was back from reading Jerry's blog, trying to figure out the mysterious url. And then I saw the one that I was looking for...
a frenzy of bananas.
T3T
佩服，佩服！
She made me laugh like mad, as if I wasn't.
YOU AWESOME BANANA : D
*randomly doodles a banana and pastes it on Jerry's head.*
Ollie
Monday, 16 April 2012
Saturday, 14 April 2012
Alice Apocalypse, Chapter 2
There is not much doubt in the stillness of the night. She gazes out over the horizon, in her hand a mug. Jagged lines run down the porcelain cup, staining its pure whiteness with stripes of black. Her hand hovers above the cup, and she stares up at the stars.
It is warm and deeply scented with the thick fragrance of coffee. She sniffs at her palm, amused at her own actions. Under the deep cloak of the sky-- ragged and bitter with blackness-- she feels comfort. It is probably unheard of to be out of home, even though it was her home-- the wilderness outside of the barriers of thick, cold walls, in the darkness. This is the time for the members of the triads, a secret meeting amongst the smoky haze. Deep grunts and irritated growls.
"Alice," he breathes.
She groans. Mike, again. He was pestering her over her meeting with Brian, once more. That thick-skull moron, she pauses in her thoughts, wondering who she was exactly scolding. Both, she decides. Mike shuffles over to where she sits, his palm falling over hers. Rolling her eyes, she slaps it away. He settles down into the nest of grass and stares at her. His onyx hair falling into his eyes and his thumb resting on his lower lip.
"What now, Mike?" she demands.
"The papers, you left them--"
"I have no need for such junk."
"Then why the hassle to retrieve it from Brian?"
She laughs shakily, gingerly placing the mug on the grass. The brown liquid sloshes about in its own hypnotising pattern and she gazes at it dazedly. He pokes her arm, and she shudders at the warmth of his hand.
"I assumed you should have known by now."
"Tell me," he questions, leaning in.
"There is no need to tell you."
"Hm," he draws back, staring at the stars.
There is a brief silence as she glances at his profile, surprised at the sudden disappearance of curiosity. She raises an eyebrow suspiciously and scowls. There is no doubt that his very presence --although it had meant to be one to comfort-- was disturbing her. To each her own, there was not much trust-- most of the people who joined the 'black' society had their trusts worn out and splintered into fragments-- if there was even trust left to be placed into the unpredictable hands of people.
She is back in Nox, away from the peacefulness of Eden. In Nox, most of the hours are dedicated to the darkness, to the dreams of the night. Eden was crippling, the bright sunlight that caressed her face, blowing lightly at the strands of chocolate hair that masked half of her face. She tried to draw up her hood, but the people there didn't seem to mind, so she showed her face and arms, proudly embossed with the Nox mark.
"Tell me about Eden," Mike pips up.
"What?"
"Eden, you heard me."
"Who would ever want to know about that place?"
"I do."
"We're in Nox, dude." She sighs at Mike's antics.
"Just because we're in Nox doesn't mean that we can't dream."
"We all dream--"
"Dream in colours?" he interrupts.
"Monochromatic world, this one is. We're in Nox. It's a secret rule never to yearn to be back in that place. We're different, better not to know about Eden," she shakes her head, reaching out for the mug once more.
"I was curious, I don't yearn for things. I am incapable of feeling strong emotions, you know that."
"Fine, it's a place where Nyan-Cats poop rainbows and fluffy ponies fly all over the palace of wonders, hear that?"
"You're speaking like them, now," he complains, ruffling her hair.
"Dude, you didn't have to ruffle my hair. It's true that there are Nyan-Cats that poop rainbows and dudes that sing in chipmunk-like sopranos."
"No, not like the others. You speak difficult terms of the people in Eden."
"I do not," she spits.
"We were from there, once. I don't see what's wrong in speaking like them," he draws circles on the grass.
"It's wrong, it just is."
With that final statement, she stands up with the mug in hand and stomps away. Mike glances dazedly at her retreating figure. She sighs, swallowing back that tiny amount of hesitation. Right now, she would have rather been from Aora, even Kingslain than Eden. Anywhere but that. And she would rather Mike be smarter, instead of being ignorant to spew out logical statements that made her head hurt. If only his brain was a bit more warped and dark.
Then again, she wished that everyone's mind was less complex and simpler. That was the only way she could return to Eden-- an impossible dream of vivid colours.
_______________________________________________________________________________
I has no idea what I has written.
You can see that my brain have deteriorated to the point where I has no grammar at all.
... Alice is squishy and cute.
Jerry, don't tell her that, even tho I repeat it to her every single day.
Lol.
Ollie : D
It is warm and deeply scented with the thick fragrance of coffee. She sniffs at her palm, amused at her own actions. Under the deep cloak of the sky-- ragged and bitter with blackness-- she feels comfort. It is probably unheard of to be out of home, even though it was her home-- the wilderness outside of the barriers of thick, cold walls, in the darkness. This is the time for the members of the triads, a secret meeting amongst the smoky haze. Deep grunts and irritated growls.
"Alice," he breathes.
She groans. Mike, again. He was pestering her over her meeting with Brian, once more. That thick-skull moron, she pauses in her thoughts, wondering who she was exactly scolding. Both, she decides. Mike shuffles over to where she sits, his palm falling over hers. Rolling her eyes, she slaps it away. He settles down into the nest of grass and stares at her. His onyx hair falling into his eyes and his thumb resting on his lower lip.
"What now, Mike?" she demands.
"The papers, you left them--"
"I have no need for such junk."
"Then why the hassle to retrieve it from Brian?"
She laughs shakily, gingerly placing the mug on the grass. The brown liquid sloshes about in its own hypnotising pattern and she gazes at it dazedly. He pokes her arm, and she shudders at the warmth of his hand.
"I assumed you should have known by now."
"Tell me," he questions, leaning in.
"There is no need to tell you."
"Hm," he draws back, staring at the stars.
There is a brief silence as she glances at his profile, surprised at the sudden disappearance of curiosity. She raises an eyebrow suspiciously and scowls. There is no doubt that his very presence --although it had meant to be one to comfort-- was disturbing her. To each her own, there was not much trust-- most of the people who joined the 'black' society had their trusts worn out and splintered into fragments-- if there was even trust left to be placed into the unpredictable hands of people.
She is back in Nox, away from the peacefulness of Eden. In Nox, most of the hours are dedicated to the darkness, to the dreams of the night. Eden was crippling, the bright sunlight that caressed her face, blowing lightly at the strands of chocolate hair that masked half of her face. She tried to draw up her hood, but the people there didn't seem to mind, so she showed her face and arms, proudly embossed with the Nox mark.
"Tell me about Eden," Mike pips up.
"What?"
"Eden, you heard me."
"Who would ever want to know about that place?"
"I do."
"We're in Nox, dude." She sighs at Mike's antics.
"Just because we're in Nox doesn't mean that we can't dream."
"We all dream--"
"Dream in colours?" he interrupts.
"Monochromatic world, this one is. We're in Nox. It's a secret rule never to yearn to be back in that place. We're different, better not to know about Eden," she shakes her head, reaching out for the mug once more.
"I was curious, I don't yearn for things. I am incapable of feeling strong emotions, you know that."
"Fine, it's a place where Nyan-Cats poop rainbows and fluffy ponies fly all over the palace of wonders, hear that?"
"You're speaking like them, now," he complains, ruffling her hair.
"Dude, you didn't have to ruffle my hair. It's true that there are Nyan-Cats that poop rainbows and dudes that sing in chipmunk-like sopranos."
"No, not like the others. You speak difficult terms of the people in Eden."
"I do not," she spits.
"We were from there, once. I don't see what's wrong in speaking like them," he draws circles on the grass.
"It's wrong, it just is."
With that final statement, she stands up with the mug in hand and stomps away. Mike glances dazedly at her retreating figure. She sighs, swallowing back that tiny amount of hesitation. Right now, she would have rather been from Aora, even Kingslain than Eden. Anywhere but that. And she would rather Mike be smarter, instead of being ignorant to spew out logical statements that made her head hurt. If only his brain was a bit more warped and dark.
Then again, she wished that everyone's mind was less complex and simpler. That was the only way she could return to Eden-- an impossible dream of vivid colours.
_______________________________________________________________________________
I has no idea what I has written.
You can see that my brain have deteriorated to the point where I has no grammar at all.
... Alice is squishy and cute.
Jerry, don't tell her that, even tho I repeat it to her every single day.
Lol.
Ollie : D
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
Musings --absence of oxygen
And the absence of oxygen is nothing more than a muted silence, falling into an abyss of darkness where flickering fireflies dance about.
The mere breath that shoots across the onyx backdrop of wishes, landing as sparks that struggle to return to the adventure of thrill and wonder.
Sinking is but a desire to fallfallfall and never resurface to face the merry-go-round of life.
The mere breath that shoots across the onyx backdrop of wishes, landing as sparks that struggle to return to the adventure of thrill and wonder.
Sinking is but a desire to fallfallfall and never resurface to face the merry-go-round of life.
Saturday, 7 April 2012
Friday, 6 April 2012
Alice Apocalypse, Chapter 1
"You used to be here, didn't you?"
There is a pregnant pause.
"Sorta, I guess," she murmurs, stubbing her cigarette on the table
Her fingers scrape through the bunch of drawings kept in the file. Many are dog-eared, withering. On the surface, they are nothing but bleak, dull and random doodles that would never make any sense at all. They are armed with battle scars, who stand tall and proud of the evidence of their bravery. The lines are crooked, winding and long. The papers droop into a low, respectful bow.
Her slender fingers slide against the rough material of the paper. She sniggers and it soon escalates into a maniacal laughter. He glances at her, taking a casual swig of the beer. The scribbles are still there, faded over time. Yet they sparkle, gleaming in the dim light.
Don't you remember? Don't you? They ask softly.
She nods her head seriously, her fingertips tracing the lines. Jagged, uneven and forceful. A sudden spark of indignant, anger and yet bitter regret. A corner of her lips creeps upward, as she flips through the papers almost nonchalantly. She slams the file on the table and leans across it, tilting her head to the side. The cigarette has fallen to the ground, yet it still burns on passionately. Sparks flicker in and out of existence, struggling to survive-- and impossible task. The smoke drifts and floats up in the air, slithering away from the two wretched souls. It hisses in amusement as it watches the exchange between the two doomed souls, one who is trying to redeem what is left of her splintered life, wash away the blackness that has eaten away her soul; the other in defeat, condemned to his own fate already. It smirks and wafts away into another adventure, a new life...
"So?" he asks lowly.
"I... am pleasantly surprised. Name it," she demands hoarsely, combing through her dyed hair.
"I am hurt, that you think so much of me," he leans back into the shadows, but she can still hear the mocking tone-- it is too familiar.
"I see, farewell, we will never have to meet again," she taunts, grabbing the file before standing up.
She takes a step out of her seat and turns.
He makes no movement.
Her steps are deliberate, as she waits for the next sentence to be uttered with malice. The audience is waiting, as she is too-- with an impatient mind. The lines are to be said-- it is the way of the triads, a rule. Her next faltering step is the cue, yet he takes no notice.
Silence still rules. It is too loud.
Where are the shouts? The affronted bangs on the table?
She spins around, angered. What is he doing? He sits at the table, his beady eyes narrowed. His lips curl up into a sneer, a smug look plastered on his face. Her anger amplifies. How dare he toy around with her? She growls, although the temporary disfigurement of her face does not mar her beauty.
"You expected an idiot," he fingers his chin. "Now you lose."
"We'll see."
_________________________________________________________________________________
Ollie : I'm so glad that Alice doesn't have an access to my blog. :D:D:D
... Well, I wanted to reserve the title 'Alice in Wonderland' for another play, but this just fit perfectly. Yesh, I am obsessed with 'Alice in Wonderland' for the moment...
Edit: it is now called 'Alice Apocalypse'. :D
Ollie
"So?" he asks lowly.
"I... am pleasantly surprised. Name it," she demands hoarsely, combing through her dyed hair.
"I am hurt, that you think so much of me," he leans back into the shadows, but she can still hear the mocking tone-- it is too familiar.
"I see, farewell, we will never have to meet again," she taunts, grabbing the file before standing up.
She takes a step out of her seat and turns.
He makes no movement.
Her steps are deliberate, as she waits for the next sentence to be uttered with malice. The audience is waiting, as she is too-- with an impatient mind. The lines are to be said-- it is the way of the triads, a rule. Her next faltering step is the cue, yet he takes no notice.
Silence still rules. It is too loud.
Where are the shouts? The affronted bangs on the table?
She spins around, angered. What is he doing? He sits at the table, his beady eyes narrowed. His lips curl up into a sneer, a smug look plastered on his face. Her anger amplifies. How dare he toy around with her? She growls, although the temporary disfigurement of her face does not mar her beauty.
"You expected an idiot," he fingers his chin. "Now you lose."
"We'll see."
_________________________________________________________________________________
Ollie : I'm so glad that Alice doesn't have an access to my blog. :D:D:D
... Well, I wanted to reserve the title 'Alice in Wonderland' for another play, but this just fit perfectly. Yesh, I am obsessed with 'Alice in Wonderland' for the moment...
Edit: it is now called 'Alice Apocalypse'. :D
Ollie
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
Musings --4 April 2012
you have to learn what is right, and what is wrong.
it is the sudden nostalgic feeling of warmth, huddling in my parents' room, on the mattress on the floor. The light is dimmed, compared to the everyday life wherein it's just too bright and you can see everything clearly. too clearly. My bare feet rubs against the rather furry bedsheet and tries to derive some warmth from the action, although my senses are tinkling at the cooling breeze. my hair is still wet, dripping--rather, and the pillows are stacked under my body, clustered around me. it feels like the past, when we were all so young and carefree. i sigh, and a Hatsune Miku song is playing in the background. from y to y. a soothing melody that erases my flaws and errors and i am lost in it, a hypnotic trance-like state. i groan inwardly upon thinking of the busy schedule tomorrow and it's too clustered. my word document is still open, the flashing tab pleading me to just type something, anything in.
i grin at how it is simply impossible for me to bear a grudge against someone for long. it is the characteristic of a karakuri pierrot. there is no need for me to wear a mask anymore, for it has already been stuck firmly to the contours of my face. a smile that used to be unnatural has already been so frequently flashed that it does not matter what the emotions are inside.
i am an imperfection, one that was born a defect and forever like that. i glance at my seniors and somehow, i am reminded that they are going to leave anyway. people will come and go, and i will too. there was a sudden train of thought that erupted in my mind in the afternoon, on the train.
i hate this place. after six years of misery and forever being alone, i'm still stuck to this clumsy and irritating shell, it hates me. i hate it too but we can only depend upon each other to survive. i thought it would be a change but in the end it doesn't matter because i'm just going to live through another four years. and then two, probably five later before dying away.
it never does really matter. sometimes i wonder about my own existence. what am i? why am i here? am i just another puppet? is this a parody of me?
a quote from Finding Nemo, that I still blurt out at times,
"Curse you aqua-scum!"
Awepic.
sigh. i know i shouldn't be feeling stress-- what is this year anyway? isn't supposed to be the most slack year? where should i be getting the stress from anyway? it's undeserved and if i'm going to point break at this point, i'm just useless. i shouldn't be having stress. i don't deserve to claim that i'm stressed, because i'm not supposed to have.
i need hersheys.
alice is so cute :D
and she likes hersheys too. :D
it is the sudden nostalgic feeling of warmth, huddling in my parents' room, on the mattress on the floor. The light is dimmed, compared to the everyday life wherein it's just too bright and you can see everything clearly. too clearly. My bare feet rubs against the rather furry bedsheet and tries to derive some warmth from the action, although my senses are tinkling at the cooling breeze. my hair is still wet, dripping--rather, and the pillows are stacked under my body, clustered around me. it feels like the past, when we were all so young and carefree. i sigh, and a Hatsune Miku song is playing in the background. from y to y. a soothing melody that erases my flaws and errors and i am lost in it, a hypnotic trance-like state. i groan inwardly upon thinking of the busy schedule tomorrow and it's too clustered. my word document is still open, the flashing tab pleading me to just type something, anything in.
i grin at how it is simply impossible for me to bear a grudge against someone for long. it is the characteristic of a karakuri pierrot. there is no need for me to wear a mask anymore, for it has already been stuck firmly to the contours of my face. a smile that used to be unnatural has already been so frequently flashed that it does not matter what the emotions are inside.
i am an imperfection, one that was born a defect and forever like that. i glance at my seniors and somehow, i am reminded that they are going to leave anyway. people will come and go, and i will too. there was a sudden train of thought that erupted in my mind in the afternoon, on the train.
i hate this place. after six years of misery and forever being alone, i'm still stuck to this clumsy and irritating shell, it hates me. i hate it too but we can only depend upon each other to survive. i thought it would be a change but in the end it doesn't matter because i'm just going to live through another four years. and then two, probably five later before dying away.
it never does really matter. sometimes i wonder about my own existence. what am i? why am i here? am i just another puppet? is this a parody of me?
a quote from Finding Nemo, that I still blurt out at times,
"Curse you aqua-scum!"
Awepic.
sigh. i know i shouldn't be feeling stress-- what is this year anyway? isn't supposed to be the most slack year? where should i be getting the stress from anyway? it's undeserved and if i'm going to point break at this point, i'm just useless. i shouldn't be having stress. i don't deserve to claim that i'm stressed, because i'm not supposed to have.
i need hersheys.
alice is so cute :D
and she likes hersheys too. :D
Sunday, 1 April 2012
Teto :D
I just remembered.
Happy Birthday, Teto :D
WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY~
Here's a french bread. XD
Happy Birthday, Teto :D
WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY~
Here's a french bread. XD
The Train
The Train is always rushing,
Upon the weather-beaten tracks.
It leads to nowhere,
that legend I have heard many times.
Of freedom and a world of iridescence.
It travels loudly and lazily, the constant shaking of the train.
I say it runs in a loop,
A loop of consciousness that drifts through the air.
It fades over a sketch, on the canvas
that is ensnared by the charcoal that slashes
pain of its withering ashes.
It reveals nothing but a cage,
metal and brittle.
The ribbons of memories sidle up the bars like snakes,
poised elegantly and dangerously.
They melt into the metal,
seeping through the unfeeling barriers of the inanimate object.
Threads of emotions bind together in a fluid movement,
a scene is painted out, sepia and bleak
of memories that flow away and evaporate into thin air
dusting away the atoms that burst and reform.
Film frames are discarded and the images
blend into a mixture, a compound of black.
The Train leads to nowhere, they say.
Because it is the rebirth of the passengers
innocent and renew.
They alight as hollow shells
waiting to be filled up
until they board The Train again.
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