Archive for May, 2011


The new Hollywood Undead album American Tragedy is pretty sweet. Of course I’ve grown up listening to that curious amalgamate that is rap-metal. In other news I’ve always thought that they could have come up with a better name than that.

Hmmm maybe like rapetal, or maybe metap hahaha whatever they call it I still rather enjoy it. Perhaps because I can’t really sing either and it allows me to keep a career as a rapetal artist on my list.

Yes, I am writing about the most mundane things I can think of. No, I’m not avoiding anything. Where are these questions coming from?

Anyway I’m thinking of shaving off my douchey beard. Almost every author has a sweet beard in his bio-pic on the inside back cover of the dust jacket. However, my irishness does not allow me to grow an awesome beard.

There, something I’m not awesome at: facial hair fail.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry

Prolific and Gifted

I rather enjoy that title, it’s actually a Method Man quote. I do love me some Wu.

Well, Public Enemies was a little more dramatic than it needed to be, and I’m still a little annoyed at the g-men who shot Dillinger in the back. I mean seriously, what a bunch of giant pansies. Can you say premeditated? I wish I’d been alive and a lawyer back then because that was a serious breach of both Dillinger’s civil rights and an example of the very loose interpretation our Government has of the social contract. Just sayin.

Ah on to other things, today I think I may run until exhaustion fells me in my footsteps. It is a glorious part of the human condition (at least for me) that when I’m physically exhausted, my brain does not function. It’s part of why the military runs you so hard in bootcamp: break down the old so they can build up the new.

I rather like that idea. I’m not a fan of the old me and I enjoy the idea of building something glorious from the broken moldings and strewn bricks he has left me to create a foundation with.

I also still feel incredibly pretentious referring to myself in the third person.

I wish many things. But I’ll share this one: I wish I wrote novels as fast as blog posts.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry

Am I/I Am

“I’d love to postpone darlin, but I just cashed my last raincheck.”
-Scott Pilgrim

So I think I need to write more before I can sleep. I want to work on my novel, but I don’t feel up to being other people right now; I’m having enough trouble being me.

Well it’s not quite so melodramatic as all that. I’m just, well sad I guess.

I’m wishing/wanting and it’s hard on the heart. I’m writing in circles, my thoughts unclear, everything I say seems to go nowhere.

I’d say I’m only talking right now to hear myself speak, but I’m typing and my voice only echoes back in the hollow vaults of my mind, rushing from wall to wall, a confusing welter of sound and feeling. The walls reverberating as the sounds crash together, becoming one rumbling note: breaking the vault and loosing the caged emotions I try so hard to crush down into a pinpoint. Crush it until it implodes, becoming a black hole in which to feed all feeling, nothing passing the event horizon…lest I digress; I can still feel sadness so my black hole hypothesis will not become theory or reality anytime soon.

But the more I think about it, the less feasible not feeling things becomes. I have to remember that I chose to become a person that feels, a person that faces every emotional challenge the same way I’ve always conquered other challenges; with tenacity and panache (haha). I chose to become a whole person and that means I chose to become the kind of guy who does not run just because things get a little complicated, the kind of guy who doesn’t bail out just because the ride’s getting a little rough.

(Am I) It’s hard being a grown up sometimes. But I’ve made peace with that. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not afraid.

(I Am) One thing I do know that this love is real, and that I’d rather feel that joy and take all of the pain that comes with it than to not know how amazing real love is.

Alright, good talk blog, good talk (this is the part where if the blog were a person I’d slap it on the ass and tell it to hit the showers).

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry

Armor/Heart: Harmor

My heart feels like lead in my chest. Heavy and lifeless. My mind whirls in a thousand different directions, none of them pleasant.

I wonder if I am being foolish, or if my perception is colored by experience.

It doesn’t make this icy dread any easier to bear, but it does make it somewhat less mysterious.

Sometimes I think my mind plays tricks on me, and sometimes I think my heart convinces my mind that it shouldn’t worry when it really should and I can never tell the difference until I’m looking back.

I think that I think too much.

And alternately that my harmor is both too thick and not thick enough.

(This post feels pointless. It serves no real purpose, and yet I find myself unwilling to delete it. Perhaps I should sacrifice my stream of thought blog for one of thoughtful polished utility?)

Let’s clarify: I am a paradoxical mixture of diametrically opposed halves. I am duality personified; both hopeless and hopeful and every other emotion and its opposite emotion you can be.

I believe the word you’re looking for is befuddled.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry


Action Items

Righting, wrighting…Writing!

Today was pretty good: work went super quickly and was, as always, pretty fun.

In other news:
Rocked a personal best 5k and mile today, and it was my third mile so somebody has his first ever negative split. I know, I know; the hell you say. The hell I do.

Really need to motivate myself to write some more today, I almost think I’m avoiding it because I know today is going to be very hard on some of my characters and if you know me you know that my creations are very real in my mind and I will legitimately feel bad about what I’m going to put them through.

Yeah I know.

Anyway, I’ve got some breathing room since I get to write on my own schedule, of course I’m also driving myself to finish this one so I can write the next one. I’ve got stories literally bursting out of my mind. They scream for release and demand my attention when I try to think of nothing.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry

Infinite Strange

I need to re-read my novel, I’ve (legitimately) lost the plot.

Today was an odd amalgamate of emotion. I rather enjoyed it.

Disjointed, this post and my thoughts: sometimes I wonder what sane feels like but never for long.

I envision great things, and I hope that they are true, mostly because they all seem to require a me and a you (I know you’re out there somewhere, waiting for me as I wait for you).

Day by day, so it goes slower every minute, making seconds into little eternities, a lifetime contained in each moment. A galaxy in every breath, spinning irreverently, fluidly toward something infinite; maybe finite but somehow endless.

I am so strange.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry


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