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tunnelnuke
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Name: Daniel
Country: Singapore
Metro: Singapore
Birthday: 5/25/1984
Gender: Male
Interests: I read. I laugh. I listen. Nuff said. No just kidding that's never enough is it? Listens to Good ol' Rock n' Roll..Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, The Doors (whose lead singer I absolutely adore), Rainbow, Dire Straits, The Who, Hendrix, The Beatles, Queen..music from the Sixties to the Seventies..basically if your dad heard it then I'm still listening to it. Also gets major kicks outta Dream Theater, who has to be the best prog metal band around, and Iron Maiden. Reads Neil Gaiman (his stories are life-changing), Umberto Eco (this Italian is an amazing writer..go check him out) Oscar Wilde and a dozen other writers who have managed to influence the modern literary world. If you read, speak to me. I love "Get Fuzzy".
Expertise: Conjures silly analogies, creates similes and concocts situations as ridiculous as a skunk in a sack of rice. Actually it could be a sack of wheat too but it is only logical I adopt an Asian context. The skunk makes sure it not only reads silly, it smells silly too.
Occupation: Other
Industry: Other
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
MSN: tunnelnuke@yahoo.com
Yahoo:  tunnelnuke@yahoo.com
Jabber: Oh ho I don't go round jabbing people
Member Since:
12/18/2004
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| 3 appointments in a day get cancelled at the last minute, for whatever reason. Nope, not pissed at all. I'm not taking my phone out any more too since it can't seem to work when I need it to.
If anyone needs to contact me, don't. | | |
| "For history's a twisted root
with art its small, translucent fruit." - Paul Muldoon
"I don't have faith in faith.
I don't believe in beliefs.
You can call me faithless. You can call me faithless.
But I still cling to hope,
and I believe in love.
And that's faith enough for me. That's faith enough for me." - Rush, Faithless
That sums up my life for now. | | |
| Because harsh words don't pierce my soul like an arrow through the heart of an animal, so carry on. | | |
| We live to tear each other apart at the seams,
With violence of the like no friends have seen.
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| We are bricks as soon as we're born
Then time-hardened and weather-worn
The kiln-forged clods of mud we build with:
the people we fill our spaces with.
As a bricklayer thinks, so we pick and choose,
welcoming people as far as their use.
We build our lives on each other;
a fortress of cracks and gaps papered over
that can only stand so much
(I fear being turned to mulch;
what happens when I no longer fit?)
The bastion I inhabit
has little use for fracturing stones
and even less for my flesh and bones.
I could try and rebuild - with the bricks that remain-
the palaces from the past, but what would I gain?
Towers of memories that crumble to dust
and a fortress as empty as an earthen vase.
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I'm tired of being, more so than anyone would care to ask or know. | | |
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