"No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world." - Robin Williams
Sights and sounds; I can never get enough of it, people take vacations all the time but they never notice or realize the vacation right in front of them. My city is not big by any means, it's decently sized, and it's majestic and mysterious like a beautiful woman at the bar by herself. You notice her and when you finally muster the courage to talk to her she's more than you ever expected.
These lights they glow ever so bright, there's a sort of passion in it and it's a sweet bliss. Various sounds from people talking, walking, playing with their cell phones. The cars hum through the streets like bees at work, random subwoofers blow out but it's still so peaceful. A saxophone plays randomly and I'm awestruck by the melody.
These small things I can cherish so dearly, they matter just as much as things or great measure, like a compliment to a meal, icing on the cake, or something like a beautiful woman you can go home with. As I light another cigarette I sit and I just absorb it all, the peace, the passion, the bliss.
"Little things that can mean so much at times when things feel so hopeless. Like skating through the park." - Ryan D.
20141029
a writer and a painter..
"When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people not characters. A character is a caricature." - Ernest Hemingway
Blank; this paper seemingly starts blank, though as my fingers slowly reach the keyboard, I'm reminded of what I had come here to do, my mind slowly analyzes and combines the words to which I want to be heard, ideas slowly begin to spill like an overflowing cup, creativity is blessed within my soul, and I have written yet another ten pages. I've written about love, tragedy, lies, truth, hate, anger, suffering, and life. Each coinciding together, each close together yet each far apart, like siblings of a kind; each from the same mother, but each different and diverse in trait, in trade, in heart, and in soul.
A writer writes what she believes, what experiences she goes through, just as a painter sees what he perceives in front of him, what moments are frozen in their mind. We simply can't let it go, we have to take it and store it somewhere, store it safely where time can hold on to it and pass it down from mind to mind. We keep what makes us smile, what makes us laugh, even what makes us cry, our memories good or bad is our tools, our hammer and chisel.
"Influence comes from what happens in this life and the next." - Ryan D.
Blank; this paper seemingly starts blank, though as my fingers slowly reach the keyboard, I'm reminded of what I had come here to do, my mind slowly analyzes and combines the words to which I want to be heard, ideas slowly begin to spill like an overflowing cup, creativity is blessed within my soul, and I have written yet another ten pages. I've written about love, tragedy, lies, truth, hate, anger, suffering, and life. Each coinciding together, each close together yet each far apart, like siblings of a kind; each from the same mother, but each different and diverse in trait, in trade, in heart, and in soul.
A writer writes what she believes, what experiences she goes through, just as a painter sees what he perceives in front of him, what moments are frozen in their mind. We simply can't let it go, we have to take it and store it somewhere, store it safely where time can hold on to it and pass it down from mind to mind. We keep what makes us smile, what makes us laugh, even what makes us cry, our memories good or bad is our tools, our hammer and chisel.
"Influence comes from what happens in this life and the next." - Ryan D.
20141028
the sunlight burnt the bridge.
"We build too many walls and not enough bridges." - Isaac Newton
The sun rises on this very chill morning and I'm reminded of the warmth it brings. Another long night out and I've lit my last cigarette, it burns slowly and I think, "These things will be the death of me." The cliche of the quote but I could care less, I'm busy feeling the energy of the sun, the heat, and the light ever so blinding.
I am alone, but this very moment I'm not lonely or do I just refuse to see the truth. My eyes are bloodshot, they're as red as the devil himself, glazed by tears from a yawn, and I shudder for some reason, perhaps the cold refusing to leave my body, maybe it could be something as mysterious as a ghost passing me by.
Sometimes I take these long exhales and I wonder what I would have changed, what many things that have happened to me would I make different? I change it all in my mind and my primary concern being; what kind of person would I be now? Would I be less humble, more prideful, hateful, happy but in need for a real path.
One thing I do know, I think of all this and I realize I have no regrets, I understand and comprehend that all of the troubles I have ever come to and all the blessing which have crossed me have helped make me become who I am, to whether or not it's taken a toll on me or to whether or not I have lost close people to me, it could have gone less messy but this is life, and it's always a bizarre and disastrous storm, but it's these moments in the calm that shape us.
"Though many bridges have been burned I know I can still salvage wood, stone, and metal to create new ones to new destinations." - Ryan D.
Here's something to seize the day with..
The sun rises on this very chill morning and I'm reminded of the warmth it brings. Another long night out and I've lit my last cigarette, it burns slowly and I think, "These things will be the death of me." The cliche of the quote but I could care less, I'm busy feeling the energy of the sun, the heat, and the light ever so blinding.
I am alone, but this very moment I'm not lonely or do I just refuse to see the truth. My eyes are bloodshot, they're as red as the devil himself, glazed by tears from a yawn, and I shudder for some reason, perhaps the cold refusing to leave my body, maybe it could be something as mysterious as a ghost passing me by.
Sometimes I take these long exhales and I wonder what I would have changed, what many things that have happened to me would I make different? I change it all in my mind and my primary concern being; what kind of person would I be now? Would I be less humble, more prideful, hateful, happy but in need for a real path.
One thing I do know, I think of all this and I realize I have no regrets, I understand and comprehend that all of the troubles I have ever come to and all the blessing which have crossed me have helped make me become who I am, to whether or not it's taken a toll on me or to whether or not I have lost close people to me, it could have gone less messy but this is life, and it's always a bizarre and disastrous storm, but it's these moments in the calm that shape us.
"Though many bridges have been burned I know I can still salvage wood, stone, and metal to create new ones to new destinations." - Ryan D.
Here's something to seize the day with..
20141027
the girl with the broken heart..
"Women are made to be loved, not understood." - Oscar Wilde
How broken is she really? Deep inside? Who's scarred her so harshly that she covers up each and everyday with more make-up or cuter clothes? Picture the girl who pretends everything is alright, everything is fine; she carries herself with the facade of safety, the facade of a cheerleader, a hard hitting business owner, a mother of two, or a girlfriend who poses as strong and independent. So many gorgeous and beautiful women I've met, so many that I know and many of whom hide behind something. They're not all there and you can always pick out the truth, though once in awhile you're blinded by that smile.
You're not sure if it's real or fake at times, but the glow in her eyes tell the truth. Gentlemen I'm going to explain something to you; we are a hurtful species, we run around pounding our chest and conquering whatever we want, whatever shines in our eye. We take and take and never consider the possibility of, "perhaps it was too much." I have been there in my youth, I've been irresponsible in relationships in which I have always considered myself. Time moves forward however; and that woman you've found, that girl you made smile once, just seems to get up and leave, she won't put up with it, not with the hurt you've bestowed upon her.
As she smiles at me I stare in her eyes and I'm wondering what she's thinking of; whether or not I'm just another guy who's going to break her heart, destroy her emotions, treat her like her father or ex had so long ago: like she was worthless, a piece of meat perhaps, something to fuck maybe. I can never fathom the darkest reaches of a torn woman's mind, it's a deep hole which they choose to keep hidden from all, a hole covered up by veils and sheets.
I wish I could change so much about people I've met, and I don't mean change them specifically. I dare say that I wish I could play God and destroy all the bad things that have ever happened to so many close to me, but some how some way I would keep them the same. They wouldn't have any recollection of these horrific events, they would have peace. None of that probably didn't make any sense.. Honestly maybe at this point I'm just rambling..
"I wish I could save the world.. With anything to start just remember to treat her like you would lose her the next day. Treat her like tomorrow you would wake up next to nothing rather than something. Treat her Gentlemen the way a woman deserves to be treated. Chivalry does not have to be dead." - Ryan D.
How broken is she really? Deep inside? Who's scarred her so harshly that she covers up each and everyday with more make-up or cuter clothes? Picture the girl who pretends everything is alright, everything is fine; she carries herself with the facade of safety, the facade of a cheerleader, a hard hitting business owner, a mother of two, or a girlfriend who poses as strong and independent. So many gorgeous and beautiful women I've met, so many that I know and many of whom hide behind something. They're not all there and you can always pick out the truth, though once in awhile you're blinded by that smile.
You're not sure if it's real or fake at times, but the glow in her eyes tell the truth. Gentlemen I'm going to explain something to you; we are a hurtful species, we run around pounding our chest and conquering whatever we want, whatever shines in our eye. We take and take and never consider the possibility of, "perhaps it was too much." I have been there in my youth, I've been irresponsible in relationships in which I have always considered myself. Time moves forward however; and that woman you've found, that girl you made smile once, just seems to get up and leave, she won't put up with it, not with the hurt you've bestowed upon her.
As she smiles at me I stare in her eyes and I'm wondering what she's thinking of; whether or not I'm just another guy who's going to break her heart, destroy her emotions, treat her like her father or ex had so long ago: like she was worthless, a piece of meat perhaps, something to fuck maybe. I can never fathom the darkest reaches of a torn woman's mind, it's a deep hole which they choose to keep hidden from all, a hole covered up by veils and sheets.
I wish I could change so much about people I've met, and I don't mean change them specifically. I dare say that I wish I could play God and destroy all the bad things that have ever happened to so many close to me, but some how some way I would keep them the same. They wouldn't have any recollection of these horrific events, they would have peace. None of that probably didn't make any sense.. Honestly maybe at this point I'm just rambling..
"I wish I could save the world.. With anything to start just remember to treat her like you would lose her the next day. Treat her like tomorrow you would wake up next to nothing rather than something. Treat her Gentlemen the way a woman deserves to be treated. Chivalry does not have to be dead." - Ryan D.
20141026
cigarettes exhuast and air..
driving..
Five Twenty Five in the morning and the engine is roaring, my foot is on the pedal and I'm doing roughly eighty miles an hour, my left hand holding a lit cigarette and the wheel at the same time as my right holds on to the stick. The lights are dim on the interstate, the darkness is ever so tiring, I'm breathing in smoke, cold fall air and exhaust all at once. I move my right hand to grab my cup of coffee, and I drink the bitter sweet concoction of caffeinated bliss as my mind wanders slowly and surely from the concentration of driving to thoughts of my imagination, my dreams, my memories, my future, my past, my son, my family, my friends.. I am everywhere but at the same time I am still on this long black top stretch.
My mind racing through different ideas, different concepts. Just trying to figure out answers to questions, crossing my I's and dotting my T's per say. Randomly; I'm wondering if I should stop by to get gas, if whether or not I have the time and energy this early in the morning. Cars slowly start to appear on the road and I pass them, they appear to me like card board cut-outs or something from an old 1960's chase scene where the car is really at a stand still but my background is continuously moving. I am Steve McQueen in the film Bullitt, I am reckless and I am at ninety five miles an hour now.
To what do I owe this recklessness to, nothing but perhaps a daring thrill, I'm slowly creeping to one hundred and five, and I am still in a space in my mind where time has paused for me and I have taken this time to analyze and reorganize the folders within my mind, archiving memories and dreams. My exit comes up and I finally release the pedal, the motor roars ever so gently as my speed retracts, I'm once again concentrated on the here and now, which turn I must take and which light I must stop and go at..
"Unconsciously maybe I'm running from something, anything, everything.. I'm running from what hurts." - Ryan D.
Five Twenty Five in the morning and the engine is roaring, my foot is on the pedal and I'm doing roughly eighty miles an hour, my left hand holding a lit cigarette and the wheel at the same time as my right holds on to the stick. The lights are dim on the interstate, the darkness is ever so tiring, I'm breathing in smoke, cold fall air and exhaust all at once. I move my right hand to grab my cup of coffee, and I drink the bitter sweet concoction of caffeinated bliss as my mind wanders slowly and surely from the concentration of driving to thoughts of my imagination, my dreams, my memories, my future, my past, my son, my family, my friends.. I am everywhere but at the same time I am still on this long black top stretch.
My mind racing through different ideas, different concepts. Just trying to figure out answers to questions, crossing my I's and dotting my T's per say. Randomly; I'm wondering if I should stop by to get gas, if whether or not I have the time and energy this early in the morning. Cars slowly start to appear on the road and I pass them, they appear to me like card board cut-outs or something from an old 1960's chase scene where the car is really at a stand still but my background is continuously moving. I am Steve McQueen in the film Bullitt, I am reckless and I am at ninety five miles an hour now.
To what do I owe this recklessness to, nothing but perhaps a daring thrill, I'm slowly creeping to one hundred and five, and I am still in a space in my mind where time has paused for me and I have taken this time to analyze and reorganize the folders within my mind, archiving memories and dreams. My exit comes up and I finally release the pedal, the motor roars ever so gently as my speed retracts, I'm once again concentrated on the here and now, which turn I must take and which light I must stop and go at..
"Unconsciously maybe I'm running from something, anything, everything.. I'm running from what hurts." - Ryan D.
20141025
can we pretend..
"The airplane stays up because it doesn't have the time to fall." - Orville Wright
Airport nights; picked up a cup of coffee from Starbucks and I've wandered through the terminals. Here I am empathizing with the feelings of people coming and going, this has always been my place, a sanctuary of mine, just another place to clear my head and find more of what to write.
I sit here and I analyze the beautiful couples of youth and old age; "Where are they going?" "Where are they coming from?" The obvious facts of masculinity: as the men help their ladies carry their luggage, all while the women help navigate through the crowd. Smiles are all around as children rampantly run through the areas, they're all both excited and tired at the same time, wondering what adventure awaits them.
There's an area at ORF where you can actually park your car and just watch the planes take off, you'll be sharing this small parking lot with one trash can and whatever other stranger decides to show, perhaps someone just as alone as you are or perhaps a couple rampant on finding a secret but public place to fuck. It's a simple view of magnificence, nothing special honestly, just the simplicity of watching a roaring 747 launch up in the air.
Secretly I do pretend just like the song itself "airplanes". I make secret wishes on each plane flying as I sit on my hood, all are wishes of something bigger, something better, something for my mother, something for my father, something for my son, and once in a while, there's something for me along the way.
I tend to cling on to miracles, on to things that I logically know can never happen, but there's something about a miracle that allures me, they keep my sanity in check, some way, I make all these wishes and all these prayers unknowing which one could or would happen first.
"Oh how I wish upon a star." - Ryan D.
Airport nights; picked up a cup of coffee from Starbucks and I've wandered through the terminals. Here I am empathizing with the feelings of people coming and going, this has always been my place, a sanctuary of mine, just another place to clear my head and find more of what to write.
I sit here and I analyze the beautiful couples of youth and old age; "Where are they going?" "Where are they coming from?" The obvious facts of masculinity: as the men help their ladies carry their luggage, all while the women help navigate through the crowd. Smiles are all around as children rampantly run through the areas, they're all both excited and tired at the same time, wondering what adventure awaits them.
There's an area at ORF where you can actually park your car and just watch the planes take off, you'll be sharing this small parking lot with one trash can and whatever other stranger decides to show, perhaps someone just as alone as you are or perhaps a couple rampant on finding a secret but public place to fuck. It's a simple view of magnificence, nothing special honestly, just the simplicity of watching a roaring 747 launch up in the air.
Secretly I do pretend just like the song itself "airplanes". I make secret wishes on each plane flying as I sit on my hood, all are wishes of something bigger, something better, something for my mother, something for my father, something for my son, and once in a while, there's something for me along the way.
I tend to cling on to miracles, on to things that I logically know can never happen, but there's something about a miracle that allures me, they keep my sanity in check, some way, I make all these wishes and all these prayers unknowing which one could or would happen first.
"Oh how I wish upon a star." - Ryan D.
20141024
last bit of roach to smoke...
Friday night and Ghent is busy, the Street is packed with families and children's happiness. As couples walk by I think does she even really love him. I'm intrigued by all the people wearing costumes; they're all so vivid in imagination, many of the adults have created their own, artist in their own sense. The joy the season of Halloween seems to bring; people with their dogs roaming around, children at play on the part of the street which is blocked off. I am a witness; to the happiness of people. Photographers take pictures finding their perfect masterpiece, while writers like myself eat our burritos from Chipotle as we absorb the environment. Reapers, magicians, and clowns move through the crowded street. It's time for me to go home and smile.
"Smiles all around and joy to be had." - Ryan D.
"Smiles all around and joy to be had." - Ryan D.
Oktober
"All things on earth point home in old October; sailors to sea, travelers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken." - Thomas Wolfe
I love October; perhaps just as much as I can say that I love winter. I love the feel of the weather not too extreme, not just yet. I love the leaves falling, the taste of the air, the slow and steady time change. October has been upon us and perhaps I am a bit late to actually come out and say all this, it's possible that the reminder was set in motion after drinking some Oktoberfest beer of any brand. Though this month stands out to me, it's like a silver coin left in a pile of gold, the true needle in the haystack.
Funny that I should mention any of this at so late of a time. I want pie; something sweet and savory, perhaps apple or cherry, perhaps something home made: always the best. I want fall beers stocked in my fridge as I lay watching reruns of "The Adams Family" with my son.
It's strange but this month has never meant so much to me until recent, or rather I may just be appreciating my time more; my days, my months, my years. In the wake of my own destruction, I've discovered a strange amount of my living that I had never realized. As curious as it seems I continue to maintain, I move forward just like the seasons ever changing. Ever so romantic..
Romantic because that's something every gentleman should strive to be. Though not in the strange and intrepid classical sense of sweeping someone off their feet but something of mystery; like a handsome young man at the bar, confined by his confidence and talented in heart and soul, he sits and doesn't bother anyone, though everyone continuously wonders about him, about his past, present, and future.
"Ziggy zaggy ziggy zaggy oi oi oi!" - Ryan D.
I love October; perhaps just as much as I can say that I love winter. I love the feel of the weather not too extreme, not just yet. I love the leaves falling, the taste of the air, the slow and steady time change. October has been upon us and perhaps I am a bit late to actually come out and say all this, it's possible that the reminder was set in motion after drinking some Oktoberfest beer of any brand. Though this month stands out to me, it's like a silver coin left in a pile of gold, the true needle in the haystack.
Funny that I should mention any of this at so late of a time. I want pie; something sweet and savory, perhaps apple or cherry, perhaps something home made: always the best. I want fall beers stocked in my fridge as I lay watching reruns of "The Adams Family" with my son.
It's strange but this month has never meant so much to me until recent, or rather I may just be appreciating my time more; my days, my months, my years. In the wake of my own destruction, I've discovered a strange amount of my living that I had never realized. As curious as it seems I continue to maintain, I move forward just like the seasons ever changing. Ever so romantic..
Romantic because that's something every gentleman should strive to be. Though not in the strange and intrepid classical sense of sweeping someone off their feet but something of mystery; like a handsome young man at the bar, confined by his confidence and talented in heart and soul, he sits and doesn't bother anyone, though everyone continuously wonders about him, about his past, present, and future.
"Ziggy zaggy ziggy zaggy oi oi oi!" - Ryan D.
20141022
sacrificing wounded animals to leeches
"I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up." - Lauren Oliver
Why do we do it? What's the point? Is it care that compels us, to push us to even give a fuck? We sacrifice what we love; our desires, our hopes, our dreams, what matters and what we want, for others continuously. Does this make us a better person that we choose to be persecuted a certain way, that we choose to yield for others in order for them to advance.
I find it disturbing the sacrifices we make for people who could care less of us, what matters to them most is not what we give up but what they gain. Greed grasp its petty hands through so much good in this world that, so many people will see the sight of sacrifice and take advantage of it like a wounded animal. A disgusting sight to see as they press slowly but surely on another, feeding perhaps lies or half truths in order for you to sacrifice more of your time and energy for them. Like a leech feeding in your sleep, you don't see it happening, but slowly and surely you're feeling fatigued and restless.
Though belief in your sacrifices strengthens your cause, perhaps it may seem worthless, or perhaps our sacrifices left in vain in some sense. What does it matter when all hope is lost right? Hope; man's greatest strength and weakness. Remember though, it is our greatest strength. To some resolve and in some mysterious way, our hope powers our sacrifices, what we give up is never truly left in vain, something is always brought out of it, as if a sacrifice were planting some sort of seed through a storm and then suddenly at the final calm it has birthed some kind of spectacular flower, something to be proud of, something noteworthy of the sacrifices made.
"Circles my friend but have you finally figured out my circles?" - Ryan D.
I apologize if this video absolutely has nothing to do with anything I'm saying, and I apologize for the mystique and stupidity and hypocrisy in my writing today.. . Maybe we'll hit it tomorrow.
Why do we do it? What's the point? Is it care that compels us, to push us to even give a fuck? We sacrifice what we love; our desires, our hopes, our dreams, what matters and what we want, for others continuously. Does this make us a better person that we choose to be persecuted a certain way, that we choose to yield for others in order for them to advance.
I find it disturbing the sacrifices we make for people who could care less of us, what matters to them most is not what we give up but what they gain. Greed grasp its petty hands through so much good in this world that, so many people will see the sight of sacrifice and take advantage of it like a wounded animal. A disgusting sight to see as they press slowly but surely on another, feeding perhaps lies or half truths in order for you to sacrifice more of your time and energy for them. Like a leech feeding in your sleep, you don't see it happening, but slowly and surely you're feeling fatigued and restless.
Though belief in your sacrifices strengthens your cause, perhaps it may seem worthless, or perhaps our sacrifices left in vain in some sense. What does it matter when all hope is lost right? Hope; man's greatest strength and weakness. Remember though, it is our greatest strength. To some resolve and in some mysterious way, our hope powers our sacrifices, what we give up is never truly left in vain, something is always brought out of it, as if a sacrifice were planting some sort of seed through a storm and then suddenly at the final calm it has birthed some kind of spectacular flower, something to be proud of, something noteworthy of the sacrifices made.
"Circles my friend but have you finally figured out my circles?" - Ryan D.
I apologize if this video absolutely has nothing to do with anything I'm saying, and I apologize for the mystique and stupidity and hypocrisy in my writing today.. . Maybe we'll hit it tomorrow.
thinking about memories in paris..
"You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories." - Stanislaw Jerzy Lec
Slightly intoxicated and possibly rambling.. I continually stumble upon the thoughts of remembrance; memories so beautiful but which are gone from me, from my heart. It's late night and I'm overlooking my entire neighborhood from my roof, the wind creating a bone cold sense within my body as the liquor ingested warms from my insides out. A neighborhood; the suburban houses almost alike apart from their individual styles from their owners, the randomly dimmed or bright street lights placed ever so often, the cars parked, and the peacefulness of nothing. Above; I have what few stars I'm able to pick out, what random constellations which choose to appear, and the moon: ever so bright and ever so ravishing.
One of the many places that I can disappear to in order to feel again, feel what a simple heart beat had felt like, what warmth there was in me. Funny I should mention warmth when perhaps it's nothing but the scotch keeping me buzzed. My closest friends would tell me; that these memories are like a cancer, they're insufficient, things which I should forget, things which matter not anymore, and true they are in every word, every sense.. Though let's face it, perhaps I'm a bit stubborn, perhaps I'm just too ignorant to face the truth, or perhaps these memories had just meant something so dear to me, as if opening an old box of letters from a loved one, rereading times of before.
Trust me; I'm not trying to press the pause button in memories that will never happen again, I know where I stand, I know where I'm moving, I know my true North. Sometimes it's just nice to find peace in a simple memory, like cutting pictures out and placing them in a collage; my own personal collage I like to think, just something intimate for me and no one else, to remind me, remind me that I'm still human.
"nothing but memories; just something to look at like a painting of Paris." - Ryan D.
Slightly intoxicated and possibly rambling.. I continually stumble upon the thoughts of remembrance; memories so beautiful but which are gone from me, from my heart. It's late night and I'm overlooking my entire neighborhood from my roof, the wind creating a bone cold sense within my body as the liquor ingested warms from my insides out. A neighborhood; the suburban houses almost alike apart from their individual styles from their owners, the randomly dimmed or bright street lights placed ever so often, the cars parked, and the peacefulness of nothing. Above; I have what few stars I'm able to pick out, what random constellations which choose to appear, and the moon: ever so bright and ever so ravishing.
One of the many places that I can disappear to in order to feel again, feel what a simple heart beat had felt like, what warmth there was in me. Funny I should mention warmth when perhaps it's nothing but the scotch keeping me buzzed. My closest friends would tell me; that these memories are like a cancer, they're insufficient, things which I should forget, things which matter not anymore, and true they are in every word, every sense.. Though let's face it, perhaps I'm a bit stubborn, perhaps I'm just too ignorant to face the truth, or perhaps these memories had just meant something so dear to me, as if opening an old box of letters from a loved one, rereading times of before.
Trust me; I'm not trying to press the pause button in memories that will never happen again, I know where I stand, I know where I'm moving, I know my true North. Sometimes it's just nice to find peace in a simple memory, like cutting pictures out and placing them in a collage; my own personal collage I like to think, just something intimate for me and no one else, to remind me, remind me that I'm still human.
"nothing but memories; just something to look at like a painting of Paris." - Ryan D.
shooting the deputy and judge down..
"Who are you to judge the life I live? I know I’m not perfect and I don’t live to be. But, before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean." - Bob Marley
There was a time where I use to see my own peers; these were kids from high school and all, either working at some convenient store, or waiting tables at some restaurant. I would always look at them thinking, damn what happened to their lives, where did the time go? Five or six years out of high school and most of them are still working some dead end shit job trying to get by. Though I wouldn't know the real reasons, I only knew what it felt like to be on my own high horse, making the money that I so desired to make, the facade of being out almost every night while everyone else was trying to stay home and "save" money.
I would never approach any of them or ask why they were still in that sort of position, what they were about in their lives, things of that nature. Nor did I ever give a shit really and truly, I had been guilty of assuming the negative and never acknowledging the positive. Always thinking I was better because I wasn't working at the local 7-11 or putting boxes up at Farm Fresh or even sweeping the floor at Target, I never actually analyzed why they were there to begin with. Coming out of high school; I joined the Marine Corps Reserve and during; I had many failed attempts at college, always doing well to a point but always giving up and skipping class eventually, I would jump from job to job until I finally landed my current. A well paying benefit afforded 12 hour a day job. A job I at the time had treasured though now I secretly despise.
I thought I was on top of the world, I thought the money in my pocket would make me feel better, make me feel more successful, make me feel I had the advantage amongst others. Seeing old classmates only made my ego grow more, the comparison of where I was vs where they were. Though I never actually took the time to really look at things in a honest sense. Many of these old classmates were probably just picking up a job to help advance themselves through grad school, and many of them I knew had already finished college unlike myself and had had their bachelors degree in whatever they had wanted it to be. Many of them were living for themselves and not for the dollar, they had not forgotten who they were along the way of growth.
Strange that when I finally came to terms with all this I honestly found how not so high up I was, I came to the conclusion that, I'm not happy where I'm at in my career path, that I'm taken away from family and friends, my most precious loved ones, just for the all mighty dollar. Bitter and angry I was with myself; though I knew these were my decisions that were made, these were my own life choice. Happily it hasn't been too late just yet, I can still turn it all around and find what deep down in my heart is what I'd like to live for, what I'd like and love to do with my life.
The impression of judging; being the one with the gavel and hammering down all who you see. Possibly a double edge knife, you get satisfaction in believing what you want but at the same time the truth spurs out and you're cut and wounded.
I judge a lot, I only know the lies that I make up in my own mind about others, but when I finally learn the truth.. I honestly feel like an asshole.
"don't judge a book by it's cover.. mom use to say. i'm sure yours did also.." - Ryan D.
There was a time where I use to see my own peers; these were kids from high school and all, either working at some convenient store, or waiting tables at some restaurant. I would always look at them thinking, damn what happened to their lives, where did the time go? Five or six years out of high school and most of them are still working some dead end shit job trying to get by. Though I wouldn't know the real reasons, I only knew what it felt like to be on my own high horse, making the money that I so desired to make, the facade of being out almost every night while everyone else was trying to stay home and "save" money.
I would never approach any of them or ask why they were still in that sort of position, what they were about in their lives, things of that nature. Nor did I ever give a shit really and truly, I had been guilty of assuming the negative and never acknowledging the positive. Always thinking I was better because I wasn't working at the local 7-11 or putting boxes up at Farm Fresh or even sweeping the floor at Target, I never actually analyzed why they were there to begin with. Coming out of high school; I joined the Marine Corps Reserve and during; I had many failed attempts at college, always doing well to a point but always giving up and skipping class eventually, I would jump from job to job until I finally landed my current. A well paying benefit afforded 12 hour a day job. A job I at the time had treasured though now I secretly despise.
I thought I was on top of the world, I thought the money in my pocket would make me feel better, make me feel more successful, make me feel I had the advantage amongst others. Seeing old classmates only made my ego grow more, the comparison of where I was vs where they were. Though I never actually took the time to really look at things in a honest sense. Many of these old classmates were probably just picking up a job to help advance themselves through grad school, and many of them I knew had already finished college unlike myself and had had their bachelors degree in whatever they had wanted it to be. Many of them were living for themselves and not for the dollar, they had not forgotten who they were along the way of growth.
Strange that when I finally came to terms with all this I honestly found how not so high up I was, I came to the conclusion that, I'm not happy where I'm at in my career path, that I'm taken away from family and friends, my most precious loved ones, just for the all mighty dollar. Bitter and angry I was with myself; though I knew these were my decisions that were made, these were my own life choice. Happily it hasn't been too late just yet, I can still turn it all around and find what deep down in my heart is what I'd like to live for, what I'd like and love to do with my life.
The impression of judging; being the one with the gavel and hammering down all who you see. Possibly a double edge knife, you get satisfaction in believing what you want but at the same time the truth spurs out and you're cut and wounded.
I judge a lot, I only know the lies that I make up in my own mind about others, but when I finally learn the truth.. I honestly feel like an asshole.
"don't judge a book by it's cover.. mom use to say. i'm sure yours did also.." - Ryan D.
drinking to trust like sweet nothings
Another night, another drink, and a casual conversation with a close friend as we analyze mistakes perhaps, our rough and uncivil moments; those which break us pass a limit, those which have made grown men cry, those which force us to rebuild almost each and every aspect of what we feel. Through out this night something so simple as trust came to mind; a sentence of a particular habit which I seem to ignore at times.. Giving my trust away.
"Trust is not given, it's earned, you were just so blinded by everything that you gave your trust and heart away." - A Close Friend
Honestly, I am indeed guilty of this on many occasions, perhaps even so far as elementary school. I recall bringing a valued possession in for show and tell, and leaving it around on my desk, trusting and perhaps a little naive, I had returned only to see it stolen completely.
I'm not sure what it has always been with me; from things of materialistic value to even my own heart. Funny how circumstances are always different; brunette with honestly gorgeous green eyes, beautiful curves, soft skin, and that perfect smile. That smile... Unfortunately it always seems to get me and the most entertaining part would be me passing off my trust as if I were quarterbacking to a super bowl touch down. Damsels in distress; preying like lions on a gazelle awaiting to feast, and I'm that gazelle because it's taken so much for me to understand and realize that others should be working for my trust just as I work for theirs.
What can I say though, I've never been much of a hopeless romantic in situations of sort, but more of a "helpless" one. Though with lessons learned, I keep my guard up, my armor, even when they strip it all away and I'm left nude and ashamed. I doubt another person will be able to get in, not this time, not for awhile.
"sweet loving, sweet nothing, sweet like the taste of a cherry tree, though I'm so blinded by the taste to understand the tree was rotting.." - Ryan D.
"Trust is not given, it's earned, you were just so blinded by everything that you gave your trust and heart away." - A Close Friend
Honestly, I am indeed guilty of this on many occasions, perhaps even so far as elementary school. I recall bringing a valued possession in for show and tell, and leaving it around on my desk, trusting and perhaps a little naive, I had returned only to see it stolen completely.
I'm not sure what it has always been with me; from things of materialistic value to even my own heart. Funny how circumstances are always different; brunette with honestly gorgeous green eyes, beautiful curves, soft skin, and that perfect smile. That smile... Unfortunately it always seems to get me and the most entertaining part would be me passing off my trust as if I were quarterbacking to a super bowl touch down. Damsels in distress; preying like lions on a gazelle awaiting to feast, and I'm that gazelle because it's taken so much for me to understand and realize that others should be working for my trust just as I work for theirs.
What can I say though, I've never been much of a hopeless romantic in situations of sort, but more of a "helpless" one. Though with lessons learned, I keep my guard up, my armor, even when they strip it all away and I'm left nude and ashamed. I doubt another person will be able to get in, not this time, not for awhile.
"sweet loving, sweet nothing, sweet like the taste of a cherry tree, though I'm so blinded by the taste to understand the tree was rotting.." - Ryan D.
20141021
fellatio moments while in harlem
"Life isn't a matter of milestones, but of moments." - Rose Kennedy
Those sneaky moments when you're a teenager; sixteen, you've just got done with the extravagant activity of female fellatio on a girl you're in a sense technically pseudo dating, it's the right moment, wrong time, and hell of a wrong place. Her home, 4 o clock after school and both of you have just heard the door casually open. "Shit my dad's home." Quickly she's putting her clothes back on as you're trying to find your shirt, book bag and maybe your shoes. You hear the footsteps slowly making it's way to her bed room as the voice of a burly fit man speaks "Sweetie I'm home, how was school?" She's struggling yelling back, "It was alright.." Her voice transfers into the classic "Womp womp womp womp." As you're trying to make it pass the mesh screen of your window. Bumps, bruises, and a yelp all happen as you fall from the second floor into a bush, followed by the classic "Who the hell is that?!?!" and "Where's my gun?!"
Those hilarious moments of bad timing that you can just look back on; you're with close friends, a bottle of scotch, shot glasses, half empty beer bottles, and whatever popular music plays in whatever era you're in. Laughs all around as you explain how as you picked yourself up out of the bush you realized half a branch was piercing through your lower abdomen. Another couple shots are taken and the conversation continues to even deeper moments of explanation of bad timing.
Feelings of closeness, feelings of being "right", just those simple times when I'm in the right moment, though I've never had my timing set. From something as simple as speeding; my adrenaline pulsing, the blur of the road becomes nothing, I'm free in that moment until I see the lights and sirens behind me. Or even falling in love with someone; things are hot and heavy but it turns out perhaps she's married, or she's moving to a distance within the short period of time that there's the illusion of hope for something more, but there really isn't. All in all living in that moment has almost always caused me some sort of consequence. Though what builds us really? What am I able to tell at the end of the day at a table with friends? Truth be told, it's these moments that make our dull lives just all a little more interesting. Like an artist creating something out of clay; his art is never truly his without it's own imperfections, just as our lives are equal to that metaphor. Our imperfections in these moments that we live are what defines us, they're our signature in all truth. They're what people remember at the end of the day, they're who they remember of us truly, our inner personality, our imperfections.
"share a drink, stain the glasses, share your laughs, but at the most share your moments." - Ryan D.
Those sneaky moments when you're a teenager; sixteen, you've just got done with the extravagant activity of female fellatio on a girl you're in a sense technically pseudo dating, it's the right moment, wrong time, and hell of a wrong place. Her home, 4 o clock after school and both of you have just heard the door casually open. "Shit my dad's home." Quickly she's putting her clothes back on as you're trying to find your shirt, book bag and maybe your shoes. You hear the footsteps slowly making it's way to her bed room as the voice of a burly fit man speaks "Sweetie I'm home, how was school?" She's struggling yelling back, "It was alright.." Her voice transfers into the classic "Womp womp womp womp." As you're trying to make it pass the mesh screen of your window. Bumps, bruises, and a yelp all happen as you fall from the second floor into a bush, followed by the classic "Who the hell is that?!?!" and "Where's my gun?!"
Those hilarious moments of bad timing that you can just look back on; you're with close friends, a bottle of scotch, shot glasses, half empty beer bottles, and whatever popular music plays in whatever era you're in. Laughs all around as you explain how as you picked yourself up out of the bush you realized half a branch was piercing through your lower abdomen. Another couple shots are taken and the conversation continues to even deeper moments of explanation of bad timing.
Feelings of closeness, feelings of being "right", just those simple times when I'm in the right moment, though I've never had my timing set. From something as simple as speeding; my adrenaline pulsing, the blur of the road becomes nothing, I'm free in that moment until I see the lights and sirens behind me. Or even falling in love with someone; things are hot and heavy but it turns out perhaps she's married, or she's moving to a distance within the short period of time that there's the illusion of hope for something more, but there really isn't. All in all living in that moment has almost always caused me some sort of consequence. Though what builds us really? What am I able to tell at the end of the day at a table with friends? Truth be told, it's these moments that make our dull lives just all a little more interesting. Like an artist creating something out of clay; his art is never truly his without it's own imperfections, just as our lives are equal to that metaphor. Our imperfections in these moments that we live are what defines us, they're our signature in all truth. They're what people remember at the end of the day, they're who they remember of us truly, our inner personality, our imperfections.
"share a drink, stain the glasses, share your laughs, but at the most share your moments." - Ryan D.
20141020
WE ARE TOGETHER!
"you should be kissed and often and by someone who knows how." - Rhett Butler (Gone With The Wind)
Do you remember the first time you ever fell in love? The first time you met him or her? That first time you met that person that made everything seem so little and petty, that made you feel the world around you? Do you remember the first touch, simply holding their hand, feeling so innocent, that feeling that you felt that made you feel so special, that made you feel like you found your other half? Your puzzle piece, your perfect fit?
It was special; holding their hand interlocking fingers, walking though public places pretty much announcing "WE ARE TOGETHER!"
Now do you remember you first kiss? Try to remember it, try to remember how everything felt, try to relive that feeling. That moment when your faces were so close together, when your eyes had locked, when you realized that this is that moment, that this is that time, that there was no turning back, there was only the discovery of a kiss. Slow, smooth, warm, wet, mesmerizing, unique, vicious, loving, ravishing. You saw everything in that moment, you saw your past, present, what could have or maybe perhaps is now your future. As if a kiss were some kind of opening/baptism to a world that you had never known, a world you would have never seen without your partner.
I'm only saying this; try and hold on to these moments, whether or not you're with or without that person, hold on to them. Hold on to those memories, never forget what started you, what broke or made your heart. Remember what those feelings were, remember what it made you feel like, remember all the pain disappearing, all the hate dissipating, all your worries fading, all your troubles dying. Remember that feeling of love, that feeling of freedom, that feeling of romance, that feeling of.. bliss.
"Remember." - Ryan D.
Do you remember the first time you ever fell in love? The first time you met him or her? That first time you met that person that made everything seem so little and petty, that made you feel the world around you? Do you remember the first touch, simply holding their hand, feeling so innocent, that feeling that you felt that made you feel so special, that made you feel like you found your other half? Your puzzle piece, your perfect fit?
It was special; holding their hand interlocking fingers, walking though public places pretty much announcing "WE ARE TOGETHER!"
Now do you remember you first kiss? Try to remember it, try to remember how everything felt, try to relive that feeling. That moment when your faces were so close together, when your eyes had locked, when you realized that this is that moment, that this is that time, that there was no turning back, there was only the discovery of a kiss. Slow, smooth, warm, wet, mesmerizing, unique, vicious, loving, ravishing. You saw everything in that moment, you saw your past, present, what could have or maybe perhaps is now your future. As if a kiss were some kind of opening/baptism to a world that you had never known, a world you would have never seen without your partner.
I'm only saying this; try and hold on to these moments, whether or not you're with or without that person, hold on to them. Hold on to those memories, never forget what started you, what broke or made your heart. Remember what those feelings were, remember what it made you feel like, remember all the pain disappearing, all the hate dissipating, all your worries fading, all your troubles dying. Remember that feeling of love, that feeling of freedom, that feeling of romance, that feeling of.. bliss.
"Remember." - Ryan D.
20141019
little things
"Maybe that's the lesson for me today, to hold onto these simple moments - appreciate them a little more, there's not many of them left. I don't ever want that for you, finding things that make you happy shouldn't be so hard. I know you'll face pain, suffering, hard choices but you can't let the weight of it choke the joy out of your life. No matter what, you have to find the things that love you. Run to them. There's an old saying - that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I don't believe that. I think the things that try to kill you make you angry and sad. Strength comes from the good things, your family, your friends, the satisfaction of hard work. Those are the things that will keep you whole, those are the things to hold onto when you're broken." - Jackson 'Jax' Teller (Sons of Anarchy)
A short monologue to start with, just something to set the tone. Season 5, episode 1: Jax is explaining a detailed long run and how the simple moments of the ride are appreciated just a little more than usual. I find that as he explains more in detail about how he wishes his sons to never have that issue, the striking "old saying" appears: that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Teller is right; it is indeed true that things that try to kill you do make you angry and sad.
You're constantly wondering and struggling with the unsuccessful question of "Why?" "Why me?" "Why now?"
I agree with him, in truth, whatever demons you face, whatever struggles that try and control you, whatever pains that stress you, they don't make you stronger after you've conquered them, they only make you delve into more and more hatred and despair. Cling to what you love; strength does come from good things, never bad, strength comes from your son or daughters eyes, strength comes from your mothers voice, a friends listening ear, strength comes from the satisfaction of completing something, of doing better.
I've had a severe rough patch as of late and though I have slowly become numb to everything, I am realizing where my true strength is coming from. It's coming from the love and care of those around me, it's coming from what keeps me moving, what keeps my head straight; my son. It's coming from these writings, so simple yet so real.
"you can try and break me down all you want, but i will always have the advantage." - Ryan D.
"Accept whatever befalls you, in crushing misfortune be patient; For in fire gold is tested, and worthy men in the crucible of humiliation." - Sirach 2:4-5
A short monologue to start with, just something to set the tone. Season 5, episode 1: Jax is explaining a detailed long run and how the simple moments of the ride are appreciated just a little more than usual. I find that as he explains more in detail about how he wishes his sons to never have that issue, the striking "old saying" appears: that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Teller is right; it is indeed true that things that try to kill you do make you angry and sad.
You're constantly wondering and struggling with the unsuccessful question of "Why?" "Why me?" "Why now?"
I agree with him, in truth, whatever demons you face, whatever struggles that try and control you, whatever pains that stress you, they don't make you stronger after you've conquered them, they only make you delve into more and more hatred and despair. Cling to what you love; strength does come from good things, never bad, strength comes from your son or daughters eyes, strength comes from your mothers voice, a friends listening ear, strength comes from the satisfaction of completing something, of doing better.
I've had a severe rough patch as of late and though I have slowly become numb to everything, I am realizing where my true strength is coming from. It's coming from the love and care of those around me, it's coming from what keeps me moving, what keeps my head straight; my son. It's coming from these writings, so simple yet so real.
"you can try and break me down all you want, but i will always have the advantage." - Ryan D.
"Accept whatever befalls you, in crushing misfortune be patient; For in fire gold is tested, and worthy men in the crucible of humiliation." - Sirach 2:4-5
love and peace
"Harmony makes small things grow, lack of it makes great things decay." - Sallust
There are days when I feel like writing and then there are days where I wonder what I’m writing for? I am currently thinking of the early morning moment when I’m driving home from work after a twelve hour escapade of a night shift. It’s a Saturday morning on this occasion and traffic is to a minimal on the interstate, the best part is that it’s roughly seven o clock and I’m closing in on to the tunnel, I’ve got this great view as I’m entering the City of Norfolk via the Mid-Town Tunnel, it strikes me every morning and reminds me of the simplicity of hope.
There’s the sun slowly rising; as it strikes every mirrored frame from windows of buildings and to the calm water surrounding me. The buildings they stand so tall and gracious their magnificence in continuous motion. I can see all the ships in the water and the ships in the yard, slow and stagnant.
Horrible description I know, but if I could offer you a ride each morning with me home I would and my words would not need to do any justice, it’s something about this view the brings peace to me, like walking through a park as the leaves of fall scatter, or that first moment you look into the eyes of your new born and wonder.
In that very moment I am at peace, even if the moment only last for less than a split second..
"What am I writing for?" - Ryan D.
There are days when I feel like writing and then there are days where I wonder what I’m writing for? I am currently thinking of the early morning moment when I’m driving home from work after a twelve hour escapade of a night shift. It’s a Saturday morning on this occasion and traffic is to a minimal on the interstate, the best part is that it’s roughly seven o clock and I’m closing in on to the tunnel, I’ve got this great view as I’m entering the City of Norfolk via the Mid-Town Tunnel, it strikes me every morning and reminds me of the simplicity of hope.
There’s the sun slowly rising; as it strikes every mirrored frame from windows of buildings and to the calm water surrounding me. The buildings they stand so tall and gracious their magnificence in continuous motion. I can see all the ships in the water and the ships in the yard, slow and stagnant.
Horrible description I know, but if I could offer you a ride each morning with me home I would and my words would not need to do any justice, it’s something about this view the brings peace to me, like walking through a park as the leaves of fall scatter, or that first moment you look into the eyes of your new born and wonder.
In that very moment I am at peace, even if the moment only last for less than a split second..
"What am I writing for?" - Ryan D.
20141017
liar liar
"A single lie destroys a whole reputation of integrity." - Baltasar Gracian
We write in order to vent; vent what keeps pressure on us deep down, what lays beneath our skin, what is concentrated deep in our core. What drives us, what motivates us, what breaks us and brings us to pieces. Recently I have been bothered by the continuing face of lies, what people say in order to keep their own skins safe, their own goals and comfort settled in a place so well guarded. They use these lies as some kind of false shield in order to keep people from the truth; what lies within, their personal agendas and vendettas.
Like a double edge sword lies seem to dismantle, they seem to cease in action, if not sooner perhaps later, though always inevitable. In the end a liar's weakness is always themselves: to whether or not they have the continued fortitude to hold down and bottle up the guilt which eats them inside. Like a parasite trying to take over one's body, one's soul, eager to spread truth to matters which had meant so much more to so many others.
Yet, those who speak truth only seem to be a dying breed, we're courageous and constantly under fire due to the improper norms formed by people of deceit. Never forget however, the truth always prevails, you can bury the truth as far deep and as far down as possible but it always manages to grasp it's breath of air.
"Setting bridges on fire to keep the liars at bay." - Ryan D.
We write in order to vent; vent what keeps pressure on us deep down, what lays beneath our skin, what is concentrated deep in our core. What drives us, what motivates us, what breaks us and brings us to pieces. Recently I have been bothered by the continuing face of lies, what people say in order to keep their own skins safe, their own goals and comfort settled in a place so well guarded. They use these lies as some kind of false shield in order to keep people from the truth; what lies within, their personal agendas and vendettas.
Like a double edge sword lies seem to dismantle, they seem to cease in action, if not sooner perhaps later, though always inevitable. In the end a liar's weakness is always themselves: to whether or not they have the continued fortitude to hold down and bottle up the guilt which eats them inside. Like a parasite trying to take over one's body, one's soul, eager to spread truth to matters which had meant so much more to so many others.
Yet, those who speak truth only seem to be a dying breed, we're courageous and constantly under fire due to the improper norms formed by people of deceit. Never forget however, the truth always prevails, you can bury the truth as far deep and as far down as possible but it always manages to grasp it's breath of air.
"Setting bridges on fire to keep the liars at bay." - Ryan D.
20141016
winter smokes in the city..
"Rome is the city of echoes, the city of illusions, and the city of yearning." - Giotto di Bondone
"Those moments of peace and concentration that we love and vibrantly control, honestly we don't know what could happen."
The cold; it pierces through skin, bone cold, yet it's that familiar feeling of something free. I've always enjoyed the cold, those moments that fall as they collapse completely into winter. It's a peace that I find, a solace in these seasons, walks through the city seem breathable, long drags of a cigarette as you walk through echoing streets making you feel in control though at the same time you're not, the city just seems to take over and you just seem to take it all in: skinny jeans, converse, and a pea coat.
Walking; I find myself walking often, more so than ever, it allows me to breath better than sitting at my desk trying to write a letter, trying to make a phone call, trying to get the answers that I so desire, the answers to questions that should have never been asked. I suppose you could say that I placed more trust than I should have in her, but what can I say, when I fall, I fall like a season turning into winter. Cheesy line; trust me, I know, though it's difficult to pick up the pieces when you've been broken so far beyond.
"All I'm asking is 'Why?' simple as that.. " - Ryan D.
"Those moments of peace and concentration that we love and vibrantly control, honestly we don't know what could happen."
The cold; it pierces through skin, bone cold, yet it's that familiar feeling of something free. I've always enjoyed the cold, those moments that fall as they collapse completely into winter. It's a peace that I find, a solace in these seasons, walks through the city seem breathable, long drags of a cigarette as you walk through echoing streets making you feel in control though at the same time you're not, the city just seems to take over and you just seem to take it all in: skinny jeans, converse, and a pea coat.
Walking; I find myself walking often, more so than ever, it allows me to breath better than sitting at my desk trying to write a letter, trying to make a phone call, trying to get the answers that I so desire, the answers to questions that should have never been asked. I suppose you could say that I placed more trust than I should have in her, but what can I say, when I fall, I fall like a season turning into winter. Cheesy line; trust me, I know, though it's difficult to pick up the pieces when you've been broken so far beyond.
"All I'm asking is 'Why?' simple as that.. " - Ryan D.
20141004
something of sort
I will apologize for the noise; for my hate and discontent, for what spreads through my veins and what truly makes me, what truly shields me, what keeps me sane, and what keeps me comforted. Do not touch me, do not think in your simple mind you can grasp what I feel and understand the pain of a million little pieces, do not think what could have made me this way, what could have torn me in two, do not think what had broken me to this point. Only this.... FUCK YOU.
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