Archive for the ‘ Life ’ Category

Iridescent

I need to streamline my life. Excise the excess; truly cut loose that which is slowing me down.

I’ve thought about it before, I’ve ruminated thoroughly on the issues that I believe are detrimental; emotionally, physically, spiritually.

When you were standing in the wake of devastation
when you were waiting on the edge of the unknown
with the cataclysm raining down, insides crying save me now
you were there impossibly alone.

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation
you build up hope but failiures all you’ve known
remember all the sadness and frustration
and let it go, let it go.

Chester can write, that’s for sure.

❤

2011
08/20
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Inspiration
Life
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Cruella

And I’ve figured it out, somewhat anyway.

I’m an adrenaline junkie. I need intensity. In all aspects of my life. If there is no envelope to be pushed, I’ll create one; I’ve seen me do it.

Coasting is not an option. I crave challenges, obstacles to overcome.

“There is no easy way out…”

I don’t want out, I want it to always mean something, I want it to be amazing. Always.

I find that mundanity is my eternal enemy. It waits, complacency it’s ally, for me to become comfortable and then it springs and I realize that I am utterly, irrevocably bored. That is when life gets horribly average.

I hate average.

What I want, what I need, is something that I will never become bored with, that will always be the perfect mixture of dangerous and safe.

I also want all of the answers to every eternal quandary that has ever plagued humanity.

Ahhhhhh, impossible desire you are a cruel mistress.

Always she leaves me wanting.

❤

2011
08/19
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Inspiration
Life
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Sub Rosa

I am, at this exact moment, listening to Cold’s first album again, it places me firmly in Miami, Flo(o)rida, a while, a decently long while, ago.

“Well I saw the river flow from heaven, rain mistakes on me.”

I saw them when they opened for Jimmy’s Chicken Shack. Yep. It was at a bar in Hollywood, and they drank with us after their set, pretty cool dudes, all of them.

I find myself going on strange journeys, inside, further than forever.

I can’t seem to escape my mind lately. I find too many decisions, lurking ’round every corner. Waiting like stalkers, springing out with a surprised sort of malice to disturb my equilibrium.

I generally thrive under pressure, I find that I excel when it matters. When it matters. I want it to always matter, sometimes though the futility of some situations wrecks my sense of purpose and place.

I firmly believe that anyone can do or be anything if they want it enough. I know what I want. I know how to do it, I can think in three-dimensions; strategically. And yet I find that my motivation is drastically reduced. It makes me question, to stop and ponder, smelling roses and becoming lost as my thumb hovers over the start button.

The last few months have been odd, and oddly revealing. I dream strange dreams; people and places I’ve never known in waking life. I think strange thoughts, previously held in reserve; the sole domain of my subconscious.

It overflows, dams burst, clouds fly apart and rays of starlight illuminate paths I’d not known existed.

A sovereign-specific for a wounded mind. I wonder in those moments where these thoughts come from. They seem almost introduced; not-quite-mine as they flutter at the edge of my awareness.

I don’t know if I’m going to post this.

❤

2011
08/19
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Inspiration
Life
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forget me

I found this on my hard drive, I remember writing it, but the emotions attached to it had flown. It comes back as I mouth the words, the cadences rolling through my mind; pause, line, break: feel.

I’ve always enjoyed the fact that once I’ve written something down, something that made me feel or was the result of something I had felt that it comes back the moment I re-read it.

It’s a time capusle, a glimpse at who you were and what you felt at some past moment in your life.

What a gift. Language, I mean; the ability to capture the abstract and ephemeral and set it down forever.

forget me

familiar paths and hallways,
flow by me.
forget me.

i can’t sleep anymore,
you’ll never feel the cold,
because you’re not for me (i’m not for you).
forget me.

seasons grow brittle,
i’d like to escape.
forget me.

i’m freezing in this endless summer,
i’d build a world for you,
but i’m no longer that kind of joy.
forget me.

I may have posted this before, or maybe I had read it recently, It just feels familiar. I wrote it five years ago and it still resonates. My life runs in concentric circles. Growing ever outward, encompassing more and more time and space, and yet somehow still drawn to the same spaces that my mind inhabits, in perpetuity? Perhaps, but for now, yes.

❤

2011
08/17
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Life
Love
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With a fire

“…and you say ‘sorry’ like the angel heaven let me think was you, but I’m afraid: it’s too late to apologize, it’s too late…”

Ever hear a song that reminds you of someone you wish you could forget?

I’m sure you have.

It happens to me constantly, but the song I snatched some lyrics from is one that reminds me of too many people at once. I’ve got three different versions of it on my iPhone. I was listening to some music and editing my novel and with some insane roll of the dice my shuffle played all three in a row.

I don’t know what the odds are on that one but I’m sure it’s a statistical nightmare.

I can barely fathom the feeling. It seems like every shed tear hit me at once, as though my heart broke and re-broke several times over with nothing to break the fall. Just a series of near-fatal crashes; one atop the next.

Images, scenes and still-frames fly by me, happiness turns to tears, love becomes hatred and rounds back again. The cycle flows through faces, places and names.

I re-lived half a lifetime in what was surely only minutes.

I find the happiness so fleeting but somehow the sadness sticks. It holds you, like hands made of razor blades; each caress draws blood, and I am furious at myself for believing.

And then, almost as soon as it began, it was over, spent like a cloudburst. I found my center, heart beating wildly, breathing ragged and uneven.

It felt exactly like that moment your head breaks the surface after staying underwater too long.

It was surely one of the oddest things I’ve ever experienced.

I absolutely hate it when my powers of description desert me.

❤

2011
08/15
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Life
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Tapestry

I was going through the last few months of posts while I silently debated the direction of my novel.

Dear add meds, thanks for the focus necessary for the aforementioned multitasking.

It’s funny, I’d never been able to focus on my studies, in high school they assumed I was bored with the curriculum and I was, just not in the manner they supposed.

I was talking to my dad about the fact that I was never diagnosed with it until college because my ‘rents don’t believe that add exists. He said, “sucks to have hippie parents doesn’t it boy?” and recommended a heavy metal detox to improve my concentration.

God love ya dad.

In any case, my grades are always good, although I sincerely have no idea how to study. Luckily for me I can skate by with my (very nearly) perfect memory for anything I see, hear or read.

I often wonder where I’d be today if my ability to concentrate were a match for my memory.

C’est la vie, nothing is truly gained by such exercises. I am where I am meant to be. Although I’d imagine that I’d at least have taken over this hemisphere by now if I weren’t so easily distracted by shiny things.

“I have known no man of genius who had not to pay, in some affliction or defect, either physical or spiritual, for what the gods had given him.”

~Max Beerbohm

At any rate, the new power cord for my laptop arrived yesterday and I am writing furiously, insensate to all else that flows by me. I had been literally lost, ideas running through my mind with no outlet, no place for them to go; folding back in among themselves, combining with other ideas: a confused welter of thoughts and feelings, melting into a stream of potential.

It’s always the visual. I can literally see a glowing flow of them running through my mind. Close my eyes and there they are, golden and gleaming, lit up like a city against the dark tapestry of my mind.

Waiting, rushing forth at my call, begging me to make them real.

❤

2011
08/14
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Cold Summer

A definite – and by proxy definitive – coldness had (has) entered my life. Maybe the passion is gone, but the people I speak of had become important parts of my life. I do not feel passionately about my right hand, but I cannot imagine living my life without it.

I find that I tend to shut down emotionally when I’m hurt by someone, I become cold, unaware – to an extent, unfeeling. I try not to, I try earnestly to internalize the pain, to experience the heartache fully and then to let it go. My subconscious betrays me constantly in this, it will only let me go so far before it’s automatic safeties kick in. Failsafes my mind has designed to protect me. I despise my subconscious at times like those, I think that it gets in the way of healing, of closure.

I seem to talk about closure a lot. I have found that no relationship is free of problems, the issues are always one of scale; in the sense of scale of the issue personally and perspectively.

One person is always more hurt than the other, one person always thinks the issue more serious than the other and this creates a schism. A cataclysm. A break.

It’s hard to recover from such things as a unit, one person always gives up.

I’m not completely certain of whom I am speaking of at this juncture, only that the last couple of years have been hard on the heart and draining in my soul. I find a new cynicism vying with my natural optimism; fighting for equal footing in my thoughts.

My ideals battle my experience: in my mind, in my dreams, there are two Ryan’s; each with his own diametrically opposed views, speaking words that I can never hear and when I awake I never know which of them wears my face.

❤

2011
08/12
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99 Problems

I had started a post a day or so ago, typically (of late anyway) it was somewhat whiny, slightly philosophical; a dubious contribution to literature.

Then I watched a documentary about Burma, shot in secret by a man who risked prison by taking video of daily life in his own country.

That’s what real problems look like.

Check it out if you’ve got hbo or can find it: Burma VJ: Reporting from a closed country

❤

2011
08/10
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Anthropology
Documentary
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Life
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99 Problems

I had started a post a day or so ago, typically (of late anyway) it was somewhat whiny, slightly philosophical; a dubious contribution to literature.

Then I watched a documentary about Burma, shot in secret by a man who risked prison by taking video of daily life in his own country.

That’s what real problems look like.

Check it out if you’ve got hbo or can find it: Burma VJ: Reporting from a closed country

❤

2011
08/10
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Activism
Anthropology
Documentary
Films
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Life
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Harbinger

There is no such thing as someday. There will never be a later. Either you go after what it is that you want or watch it fade away forever.

I can live with the regrets I have, because I only regret things that I have not done, or waited too long to say.

I regret chances I didn’t take, risks I thought too much.

There is only now, yesterday is simply wasted time, tomorrow is a might have been and the ephemeral future; hazy and indistinct, beckons with a frenzy born of desperation. It screams and wails and rages against your plans, and your hopes and dreams fall away.

Only you have the power to create a destiny that you can live with, it seems that there is no “we” in this, the land of eternal “I’s”.

“And I wonder why, I never wonder why, the easiest things are so hard.”

When you look back what do you see?

❤

2011
08/07
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Life
Love
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