180 on a dime

Ireland ruled. French girls rule. NY ruled. BTBAM rules. American Airlines brake ride certified. Alaska Airlines departure coordinator certified. Fat check comin in tomorrow and is gonna get me dipped for a bit. san diego next week. cancun next month with a beautiful azn. alaska in february to see the northern lights. hawaii in march just because i can. miami in april for a change of weather. korea in may for beach bonfires. rio de janeiro in june for a waste of a tax return. australia in july with my bonus check. and denver, seattle, and los angeles always. keep at the register or the desk or the test... ill be light years away...

Green Land.

I wish I remembered this site exists more often.

Going to NY, Ireland, and London on Monday. It's going to be a wild wild time. Me and this dude Cameron I work with are going. He's about as much a fan of booze and fun as I am so it should spawn lifelong stories. Thinkin about hitting San Diego on the way back for an overdue visit to Jake Stewart. Coming back from all this on the 18th, then working my life away for a few months to step my game up.

Life is goooooood....

Breathing deeply, walking backwards

I awaken shrouded in a thick veil of sweat. 3:10. I can feel the sunlight breathing on me through a closed window, the blinds translucent. Above, the background rhythm of my ceiling van remains eternal, letting the sounds of the world weave melodies around it. Definitely time to wake up. I pull my sticky legs together and sit up . Christ, its fucking hot. Somebody is grilling bacon somewhere close. Who the fuck makes bacon at 3:10 p.m. on a Thursday? I languidly gaze towards my nightstand. Amidst the bottles and various scrapbooks of time, I spy a pack of lucky strikes. Two left. I quickly steal one from the soft cellophane "box" and pat my nonexistant pockets habitually for a lighter. No dice. I'm in boxer briefs. What happened last night? The piercing silence lays down a tune over the fan. I bail to the kitchen and take out some bacon to make. Why is turkey bacon so much more expensive? Its a leaner meat, so technically it weighs less and should cost more. Thank god for the food stamps. God? No... thank myself for the food stamps. The blonde on the couch makes a soft groan and rolls back to sleep. Its hot and I imagine rolling over on a leather couch to be at least a little irritating. Must still be drunk. Of course she is, its 3:10 in the fucking afternoon. I hate cooking bacon. The reason I get turkey isn't because its healthier, no; I've got enough unhealthy habits to undo a marathon runner's regimen... I get turkey bacon because it spits less. You know... it doesn't throw grease on your knuckles or bare feet. And the pan is just a LITTLE easier to clean. I survey the fridge for an aid to my immediate thirst and find only a water faucet. Is it the first of the month yet? Not even close. I hate tap water. Not even any ice, either. Who is this girl on the couch? I really wouldn't even let her sleep with me? She really means that little to me? I guess in my intoxication, I didn't want her to be synonymous with a name that means something to me. A relic from my past. Ancient history resurfacing. But hey now that its morning, fuck it. I scoop her up and carry her to my bed. 5'3" and thin, a monument to vulnerability. Where did she go astray to wind up sleeping on the couch of a retch like me? She's pretty enough to be staring at me from a billboard. And naked enough to be taunting me from a news stand. Its too hot to function, so I stop functioning. I tip up a bottle of Popov, and my guilt vanishes. Livin cheap ain't easy man... I guess I'll always be wringing out the American dream before I soak it in gas and strike a match. She deserves better, so I give her better... I scoop her up again and put her on the bench outside my complex.... Anything is better than this...

Out of night comes day, out of day comes night.

Thoughts:

Juliette Binoche needs to be my wife. I'm drinking the sweetest unsweetened tea I've ever had, and its sugar free? I love iPhone. I need a sandwich. My room is dirty. Spongebob is excellent. Researching chameleon care. I lost at scrabble to my genious uncle. beer goggles + hotornot.com = fun. Bought a car today. An iPod would do me well. I need to look into piano lessons. my fan squeaks making it tough to sleep. craigslist is superb. Tomato soup and grilled cheese sounds good.

Later.

Sacramento-Seattle-Anchorage-Denver-Portland.



(Won't) see you thursday

smiles for nautical miles and knots

It is 4:02 a.m. on a Monday morning... I am with one of my best friends watching dumb and dumber. I haven't been to sleep in almost 24 hours. I woke up at 9am and worked from 11am to 1:30 am. We are pulling an absolute all nighter and then in about an hour, we're riding bikes to lake berryessa and back... me and two of my best friends. can life get better? really? I was supposed to go to denver today for a few days and catch a rockies game, but the flights are all full of course. So instead, me and Jake are catching a plane to seattle for the day then coming back at night. Work is getting more and more intense and I'm working insane hours. They added a bunch of new flights and dont have the staff to efficiently deal with it. So theres a lot of overtime available. Next week on my days off, Im going to LA for sam's birthday... week after that, Im gonna try denver again, after that, Alaska. I can't slow down. I won't slow down. I can't stop. I won't stop.









And ive had wayyyy too much coffee...

The sweet aint as sweet without the sour...

I'm bummed that I don't update this anywhere near as much as I used to. My dumb phone doesn't let me login to the site and I've been so busy lately that I am never around a computer. Today, I mustered up the courage to go to the bank and open up a savings account and a checking account. When I was younger, I got into a lot of trouble with both Wells Fargo and TCF Bank regarding overdrafts and fake money orders, but I figured it wouldn't show up due to the fact that I used a totally different social security number for those accounts. So I go to Chase, because I figure they just got bailed out and aren't in any position to deny new customers. Denied. She then informed me that I will not be able to open another account anywhere in the US for another seven to ten years. No loans. No cars. No houses. No computers. I'm stuck paying for everything in cold hard cash til then. And this whole time, I've been saving money for a down payment for a car too. A good friend of mine is letting me use his car to commute to work for a minute until I can somehow get my own, so I'm counting that as a blessing. I found out I have a reputation. I work a lot. I'm thinking about flying somewhere next week. I just watched High Fidelity for the first time, and I realized that John Cusack's character IS me, only a lot cooler and more subdued. My coworkers hate me and I can't figure out why. I'm really tired of paying for mistakes I made years ago still, no matter how pure my intent nowadays really is. I'm moving to Sacramento in a month or two to be closer to work. I don't associate myself with the same category of people I've always been associated with, and it is the best, most free feeling I've had in a long time. You step outside yourself and everything you know and view it from a non-partisan stance and you see how incredulous the life you formerly lived really is. I live a good life...

hybrid moments.

In all honesty, I had an entire, 100% disclosure of my week typed in here, then I decided it was too real and personal and trivial. It was a fun, wild week though. I was in the northwest from sunday until about an hour ago... working and learning. I met some absolutely amazing people and I'm sure a few of them have already turned into lifelong friends over the course of a week. I told people stories I've never told anybody. And had a great time with people I had never met and didn't know. I learned a lot, took a lot of dumb tests, travelled A LOT, and worked a lot. It was all in all a great week, no matter how exhausting or how much of a headache it was. I'm bummed that I have to come back to reality. Tomorrow, car hunt #2 starts, and I have to find a place that will finance me. Because I have 120$ to my name and terrible credit.

Turn the events and put it from neutral to cruise control.

I'm sailing away and nothing will ever be the same.

I'm sailing away to undiscovered seas.



Wednesday, my potential new job flew me up to portland for an intense interview and background check, drug test. It was a wild day... woke at 4am, flight left at 6am. landed. tested. ran back to catch the 9.50am flight. back in sacramento by 11:20. home by noon. showered. walked to the bus stop. worked at payless. walked home. nonstop.

right now im packing a bag(s) because theyre sending me to the pacific northwest all week. two days in seattle and four days in portland. then home. i have about 40$ to spend on the trip, and meals arent included, so lets see how that part pans out. rent and bills keep killin me... i dont even have enough after rent to pay my phone bill this month so im in a mad rush to scope out things i want to do up north on the computer and email all the important information to myself, so that when my phone gets shut off on tuesday, at least i wont be bored.

moms is kickin me out of the house in 30 days. crunch time. lots more travel means lots more pictures.

April 21, 2009

Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only person I know with my head on straight.

Then, I think about all the people I don't know anymore and how almost all of them have their head on straight.

A lot of predicaments that not only I face, but my peers face have been plaguing my mind lately. I've concluded that most people simply don't have the acquired skills to negotiate right and wrong within themselves the way you're "supposed" to. A lot of a good thing can become a bad thing over time. Too much soda, get a cavity. Too much sex, get a baby or an STD. Too much loneliness, get a shotgun marriage. Its almost as if the indulgences people partake in become curses over time. Rarely, do people indulge in things because they deserve them anymore. Actually, its the opposite... people are such shitty people and don't deserve the bare minimums, so they indulge in excess to feel better about themselves.

Anthropological analyses have been gnawing their way through my head and out my mouth lately. And when it hits the air, its already morphed its way into an infectious vector of misanthropology. Not what I originally intended. I can't convey myself adequately through any means. And it sucks, because this is a topic I feel VERY strongly about. Its why I don't hang out with certain people. Or associate with certain people. Or date certain people. Or hook up with certain people. The lack of willpower in people is one of the most vile and disgusting traits to me, easily enough to push me away for good. The girls who NEED the opposite sex are always the ones who come for me. But then again, maybe that's why they come for me, because I don't go for them...

I'd like to think I'm not a very needy person. From any aspect, whether that be peer, friend, enemy, or from the opposite sex's standpoint. But the neediest people cling to me. And I can't shake them loose. The worst to me are the people who are downright desperate for attention. The people who text you at literally all hours of the day because they are too uncomfortable with themselves to even be alone with themselves. Solitude is an amazing thing. A revolutionary idea. But its too slow-paced of an idea for society. Solitude would be defying everything that is forced upon us. Everything in our lives now is built to somehow never be alone, no matter what. Even this blog right here. What's wrong with being alone? Its the ultimate healer. I've assuaged heartbreak, addiction, and depression simply through restoring my own homeostasis. Laissez faire. Leave it alone, it'll all right itself in the end. Why are people so desperate to fix things? Its not that its broken, its that its misprogrammed. Short-circuited. Told to do something when it was built for something else. Humans aren't built to depend on other humans. Past the age of 18. But everywhere I look, dependency infiltrates minds and hearts, causing people to do irrational things on a whim. Better to be with ANYBODY than god forbid be alone, right? That's why the divorce rate is up. That's why infidelity is up. That's why teen and young pregnancy statistics are up. Drug use. Alcohol use. I firmly believe that it is all on the rise due to insecurity causing irrationality through dependency.


Solitude is a beautiful thing. It allows you to view absolutely everything in the third person, without the clouded judgement given by interfering indulgences.

Be alone. Learn about yourself. Explore yourself from within yourself. You can't present yourself to the world without first knowing who and what you are presenting...

And that's alllllll she wrote...

I took the longest way home then the shortcut to the promiseland. After months... years of cutting my toes on sharp riverbed rocks and getting my feet frostbitten by the barren mountain passes, I backtracked all the way to the beginning before I set out again... this time taking the short, safe road. I will never climb off the shit heap. There are just too many feet constantly kicking at the top... one of them is bound to hit me. Always does... without fail.

I am carless once again. I am once again at the bottom of the shit heap. Yeah... I still got a job. But I can't even get there in a convenient, timely manner anymore. The only thing keeping me even a tiny bit sane in this life was my ability to drive around and listen to music and escape the walls that enclose me, if even only for a few hours. That privilege deprives itself of my company now also. My car fucking blew up on me. Most people say "my car blew up... undriveable" and you think they blew a head gasket or something... no.... that situation is nowhere near poetic, climactic, or twisted enough for someone like me. My car literally blew up. Like... engulfed in flames. I salvaged a jacket, some baseball gear, and about 30 cds. That's all I have to show for myself and my tenure with a car. I came home and faced my parents like a dog with his tail between his legs. Why can't I just be like you? Why can't there be parents or grandparents that buy me a car? Why can't there be people to celebrate my mediocrity in my life too? Why can't I have a fucking helping hand too? I have nobody helping me. And no resources at my expenditure. I have to put my shit eating grin back on and get yet another second job somewhere. Life is giving me a lot of lemons, I just can't afford the water or sugar to make it into lemonade. So ill just continue to use them as baseballs and hit em into the neighbors' windows.


Back to the level of the walking man. Back to getting shit thrown at me from the undeserving proprietors of a life that can only be described as "superior"

doce de abril

There has to be somebody out there who I can relate to on a human, intellectual level.

03.29.09

Listen closely, because this is the only time I'm gonna say any of this....


The past few years have been a wild ride for me, and though I've tried to drag you down into the depths from which I recently emerged, I haven't done a good job at maintaining a sense of clarity about myself. There has been a cloud of speculation and confusion hanging above my head for a few years now about me and the band known as Trash Talk, and I think its time to clear the air fully. Yes, I was in that band. From february 2006- november 2006. I played the drums. I was NOT the original drummer. In that time, I never went on tour, save for a few coast trips. I had some fun times in that band, I had some bumout times. I was straight edge. They were not. I never once recorded with that band. Those credits are due to Isaac of Killing The Dream. Most of the self titled was recorded before I joined. Some parts weren't. I never wrote a song in my time in Trash Talk. I contributed my two cents and ideas in various places in the music. Some were put into the final recorded result. Some weren't. Same with the lyrics. On the day "Walking Disease" was slated to start recording, I quit. Money and living situation pressures at home didn't permit me the luxury of being able to afford to commute or put down money on recording. All of my spare money was already going to the band's merch fund or my/our gasoline fund. I worked two jobs, one at Vans, one at Polo Ralph Lauren... and it still wasn't enough. That's usually a good indicator that you need to cut out the extra expenditures. I opted out of the fast life for an opportunity at real life. It felt nice having actual people come up after a set and tell you that your music ignited something that normally lay dormant in them I never stole money from them.... I've heard that rumor come my way before. I always paid my room rent and merch fees on time. I was usually the driver on long treks. Yes, I left them in southern california once. And afterwards, continued to play in the band. Yes, I did lose the van keys somewhere in the pacific ocean.


You can all sit atop your new found pedestals and judge me from above while I live my life. MY life. The life I chose. I opted out of touring Japan and Europe and Australia for this. A real life and a shot at being normal and seeing the reality in all humanity. But even in these efforts, I am still treated differently for ever being in that band. For better, and for worse. You can sit in the jury and judge the accused all you want, but the fact still remains that you don't possess the credentials necessary to pass judgement... where were any of you 3 years ago anyways? I've been in and out of the game since I was 13 years old... look up initiate chaos. Chin check (knuckle puck). I don't like being treated as inferior by the consumers of a product I helped create. Where were ANY of you back when I was 17 years old playing shows at the vfw with ceremony, go it alone, and bracewar in front of TWELVE people? How about iron age, verse, and have heart? You fucking suburbia wannabes would shit all over your limited vinyl and buddy holly glasses nowadays if bills like that popped up. You know why? Cause its cool now. That's the long and the short. The music didn't get any better or worse. The song remains the same. You guys were all too busy wearing camo and gauging your ears. You have no sense of who you are... you're easily conformed. Jello. Putty. The media can mold you into anything they want. Because you're weak and dumb. You have been told to hate me. So you do. You have been told that you actually like punk when I know you don't. So you do. You have been told you've had a hard life by other fakes while the rest of us wade amongst our own lower class filth. So you do. I like my life. I love my life. And I have all of the problems you wish you had, for some reason. You hate your life because you have too much opportunity. And you secretly hate yourself because you're ashamed of it. Ashamed of your parents' success. Everything they've worked so hard for, to be cast aside by your ungrateful ass. You know what? I'm done... I think I got my point across.

Disclaimer.

The writings in this briefly expansive set of memoirs are only to be interpreted as specific snapshots of my frame of mind at a certain time. Opinions change. Thoughts change. I've changed more since I started writing in this thing than anybody I've ever known and still managed to wind up at square one and back to my 17 year old self... only aged about 45 more years. Since I've changed, my thoughts and opinions have also changed. Greatly. The days of divulging myself vicariously through this writing persona are long gone, in regards to the real life present tense. I now do not see this publishing tool as a sanctuary, nor a fictional shoulder to cry on, nor a place for my drunken complaints or ramblings. In fact, its been months since I've had even a drop of alcohol, and even longer since other substances have poisoned my thought process and miscalculated any of my real life equations that wound up not adding up. I am who I am. If you don't know who or what that is, then its a little bit eerie of you to read this. The point I'm making is; that save for a few bits and pieces every long once in awhile or so, I'm done writing about myself or my life. I started a separate private space of internet aside months ago for my personal memoirs, where I don't omit anything, so that if the world is still around 60 years from now and the internet decides to save my tiny page from destruction, I can read back through my previous thought processes and states of mind and find out who I truly was and how I became who I am. Some people collage... some people have photo albums... I have these scrapbooks of text to remind myself how high and low I've been. Some of my old drunken posts are funny due to the grammatical errors and terrible word choice, but some of the best works in here, in my opinion, are some of the posts that I don't even remember posting. Drunken honesty through poetry and sundries. It can't get any more brunt than that. The title at the top is really an immature cry for recognition that I'm different. I don't remember putting the picture up there. Embarassing as some of them are, I've made a personal promise since day one to never delete or edit any posts... no matter what. Maybe my frantic cries will drive you away from ever wanting to get to know me. It truthfully doesn't phase me... I have the best friends anybody could ever ask for, and a family that does their best for me. I don't need anybody else.


-Ryan-

march twenty first.

I'm so alone that I don't even have anybody to miss.


I keep finding myself wanting to kiss an invisible cheek when I'm watching a movie alone. I keep seeing myself driving late at night with what turns out to be only a dream. When I'm walking on a cold, windy day, my hands subconsciously search for smaller companions to warm them.

My days of needing any of these things are long gone.


But I want them.

Its weird when none of the love songs come with faces or names to pin them on anymore. I'm just sitting in stagnance. Not waiting for anybody to rescue me... just wanting the current to speed up and the water to clear.

I want the teenage budding love I never had. And that everybody else has had. I've never loved anybody. I came close once. But it pushed me back and I didn't fight it. I have told more than 2 people in my life that I loved them, when romantically involved... and now, none of them are even on a friendly communicative basis with me. Photographs in a scrapbook. Faces with labels to remind me of their names. They didn't matter. Nuisances that convoluted my brain and poisoned my blood stream until my heart was pumping pure poison to my brain. And back and forth. And back and forth.

I'm not searching for it. I don't want it. But its always nice to speculate about what could possibly be, given the right circumstances. I like being alone. And by alone, I mean alone. I am a solitary person. I put on many masks when I'm around people, but they're just paper mache layers that I lay and peel with the necessity of the moment. Its sad to say you will never know me.


I just want one person... besides my best friend... to know me. But that's not the way it works.

I am

A button without a lapel
A jersey without a number
A ring without a finger
A mirror missing a reflection
A bicycle built for one
A quarter note searching for a score
A movie without a cast
Your favorite fruit without the pit
Your favorite ocean without the waves
An earthquake in Milwaukee
A captain without a boat
Port without starboard
Anchor without line
Mast without sail.


Forever means solitude.
Solitude in company.



I am alone.

march fourteenth

The few true friends in my life that I do have, I am beyond grateful for having. Yesterday, I had a day off. I woke up about an hour later than I wanted to, then the day consisted of running errands and driving around and hanging out with Justin until 5 when I took him to work. We got fresh choice which definitely ruled. I ate an insane amount of macaroni and I'm pretty sure I astonished Justin, the fellow patrons, and our "waitress" by putting away about three full trays of food, not to mention two ice creams. I got a haircut then we went antiquing and thrift store pawn shop shopping. The pawn shop downtown has some cymbals that I'm keeping my eye on, even if they are about forty dollars overpriced. At goodwill, I found some good cds in the forgotten dungeon that is the miscellaneous bin. 3 cds for 1.99 each. Can't beat that. Morrissey, Tom Petty, and the first Goo Goo Dolls album... their punk one. At game stop, I almost choked out the asian dude who works there... I asked for Pokemon Red for GameBoy Color and he just laughed. I watched minority report at home and watched and talked to my troublesome brother before going out and watching my friends do hallucinogenic drugs. Tomorrow, I have another day off with absolutely nothing to do. Probably going to have band practice in San Leandro. Its a really fun band and I'm stoked to play in it... it me, my friend Brad (lose none, on a warpath, these days, lifelong tragedy, etc.), some really cool dude Mike, and this dude Donny (time for living, modern eyes) which I'm stoked about because he has such a distinct voice and time for living was my favorite hardcore band when I was 14. I even made my screen name in reference to a line in one of their songs. True story. Its quick. Its dark. Its unlike most things you've heard.

I owe 200$ for my car.
I owe 100$ for last months rent.
225$ for this months rent
80$ for phone bill.
Cars not registered. No insurance.
I'm getting cymbals and probably moving with my tax return money

But lifes good.

stop reading this.

All my best friends are moving onto bigger and better things, and I feel like I am being dropped off just before sundown in the town of forgotten dreams. A place nobody wants to be, doing things nobody wants to do. Yes, a full pickup is dropping me off on the only dirt road in a one horse town and headed west towards the promiseland. And I'm left balancing a hobo pack on my shoulder and waving goodbye with teary eyes asking where I can hop the next train to nowhere. And in steel cars my ancestors welded I will creep along iron and wood tracks my ancestors built. The same tracks I am destined to repair. And my children will someday tear up the ancient oak I lacquer and replace it with new cedar and crossties, a giant zipper in the dry desert. Free masons believe that wealth and success is inherent in blood lines... I am living attribute to that. Its hard to be a rat with eagles as friends. Its hard to keep up with a brace of hares when you're the only tortoise. One of my good friends is even carrying out my old lifelong dream of attending the Berklee college of music in boston. Another is moving to sacramento. Another is moving to san francisco. The other to san diego. One of them to davis. One of them down south somewhere. All of my previous friends from prior lives can go fuck themselves. You abandoned me in my time of need and left me with nowhere to turn. I've gone rogue. I have no loyalties to anybody anymore. My badge is on the table. No super bowl ring this year for me.
My only loyalties are with the three or four people that mean something to me. And I am now an impermiable ball.

Evisceration must have become a spectator sport... this is me spilling my guts.

march seventh

It breaks my heart. Every night is one more chip off my cracked heart. One more souvenir for an empty pocket. And I don't have much heart left to spare, even less that I actually use for myself. I just want my friends and former fellow anchors to rise from the depths and be something more. But none of them want to. I'm not the person who can force them to change, and it fucking breaks my heart. But there's nobody stepping forward and saying "no, that's not ok" except for myself. And that also breaks my heart. The world is a cold place, and sharing the enveloping warmth that could only be intellectual rennaissance goes unappreciated. Who needs a thought process for warming comfort when you can have fire in your belly for 5.99. Instant gratification. The slogan of my generation. No discipline. No willpower. No need or desire for either. Just get fucked up, fuck, sleep, shit, and party. I guess it makes sense... I mean... why strive for a higher quality of life if it isn't encouraged by society? Or if there's no need? Or if its almost downright discouraged by the world? Look at the media. Depravity. Debauchery. Nothing real. Not even the music itself, most of the time. I'm not trying to change the world or make people think differently or even make people go cold turkey. I want people to think. I want to save the friends I love most from what I could easily describe as a "trite and meaningless" existence. But they don't want to be saved. And I'm running out of life rafts and floatables to throw, and I'm at the end of my last rope. Throwing life vests to people is useless if they refuse to put them on. I'm crying for a life less plagued...

eye see yew.

my generation is scourge.

february twenty fifth.

This is it. The last broken glass shards of reflection and regret lie within this block of text. One year. That's how long its taken to go from being normal to completely fucked up to being normal again. A year ago on leap year, I moved back to Vacaville. It took a year for me to realize that my negative experiences don't define the person I am today and the person I present to the world in the future. A year of mistakes and burnt bridges. But now that I'm here, I'm glad that I have none of the unimportant in my life, save for a few lingering clingers. I like being a real person. Me. I wish sorry meant something, coming from my lips. But its just a promise tainted with venom. I find its better to say nothing in such situations, rather than make an attempt to level with certain people. Ill either always be on a pedestal, or always be the drunk you once knew me to be, but I will never be level to most people. All the pride, integrity, morals, self-respect, and discipline that left me for more deserving souls has returned home and it is an amazing feeling. Most people, in the course of their life, never truly know what it feels like to hit rock bottom in essentially all aspects of their life. And even fewer who get there know what it feels like to come out on top. I'm 20 years old and I can say I know both of those feelings. You don't like me saying it? Fuck you. People always tell me I'm an old man. And you know what? I am. You don't live a full life and not get old. That's just not how it works. There's something important missing in my life right now, along with a lot of money. But I've learned to not rush either and that both come and go. I'm laying in a room I pay to rent, on a phone I pay for the luxury of using, listening to a cd I bought. I drove around all night in a car I paid for listening to cds I bought. I came home and played on drums I paid for also. The tv... a gift. The bed... borrowed from a friend. The shirt.... free. The pants.... stole from my dad. I look around at all the stuff that's mine, and I can honestly say that it is all MINE. I am the original DIY. I am everything you write songs about. And so much more. I'm giving this trophy to myself. From myself.

This month:

I bought a car
I started an acoustic project with a good friend (be on the lookout, its fucking rad and we're writing/recording tons of shit)
I started a new hardcore band with Mario, Luis, and Dewey (once again, be on the lookout, we're takin it back to 2006 in the name of lyrics and music that mean something instead of flannels, black slim fits, trucker hats with "suicidal" written on the bill, and maroon vans with holes in them. Sk8 0r di3. Oh yeah and FUCK all the rich ass sac area kids who play dress up and go to DIY shows and play in and groupie and fuck dudes in DIY bands when they're really just ashamed of their own wealth and trying to fit in)
I made sentences with long parentheses sections
I started a jam band with a bunch of good friends. We play everything. Its insane.
I spent many nights awake til 4am.
I drank a lot of nyquil.
I started playing baseball again. Me and this wild mexican dude Javy I've known since I was like 3 ran into each other at the gas station and we've been playing every other day since.
I've cut out friends.
I've cut out un-necessary people.
I've lied. Typical.
I drank a whole bottle of southern comfort and watched big fish. Ironic?
I went sober. Yes. For good, more than likely. Straight edge?
I've made contact with old friends from the golden days.
In april, I'm flying to denver for seans birthday and we're driving back. Its going to be a good time.
I've started stealing from retail places again. Low scale. Petty cash and merch for personal wear. Once again... typical.
I did not have one romantic interest all of february. Wild.
I drank a lot of coffee at mels. 2$. Unlimited refills. Can't go wrong.
I was a good friend and shoulder for somebody on more than one occasion.
I played jazz.
I had two job interviews.
I worked a lot.



Can't stop. Won't stop. Can't slow down. Won't slow down. That spot on mount everest is mine.


See you at the top.

I in favor of I say I

I am in no mans land.
The anchors and weights are ten thousand leagues below in a watery tomb.
The ropes that once served as eternal bonds pull me with a phantom force.
I kick harder.
The metallic screams from the abandoned iron relics coax me from lifetimes below.
I've simply outgrown them.
One day, the shackles came off my ankles and I didn't bother reattaching them.
Instead, I slither through miles of forgotten ground.
No mans land.
I am alone.
Ten thousand leagues below, lie my past and the anchors that held me there.
Ten thousand leagues above, people fish from boats rather than sift through silt to see if the dog threw them a bone today.
Maybe I can make it to heaven one day, if I kick hard enough...

February Twelfth, Two-Thousand and Nine

I don't have a very good long term memory. I don't remember most instances from my childhood, up until around age fifteen. But I always remember the settings and situation...

I was an unexpected child, I presume. I say this because at a very young age, I recall being crammed in Los Angeles with my mother, father, and newborn sister in a very bad part of town. My dad worked two jobs, loading moving trucks during the day, and delivering pizzas for Dominos at night. My mom cared for myself and my sister all day. When we went out, we usually made short trips to the grocery store, post office, gas station, or any other dutiful errands that nobody likes to do. We never had weekends picnics in the park, or went bowling, or even rarely saw movies. In that studio was security. And my parents defended it and did their best to afford it. Country Crock butter tubs became reusable bowls, and sometimes, paper towels doubled as plates. It was rough, but it worked.

Now, fifteen years later, we live in a relatively ordinary looking house in Creekside. The outside is plain and indistinguishable, but on the inside, its a happy delusion of a faraway place in a nice neighborhood. My sanctuary. It was built from grass roots on the inside, to always give myself and my siblings safety and security. Over the years, my neighborhood turned to shit. I never wanted to be home, because, as an adolescent, there is so much more excitement in the unknown. Why not explore?

Its absolutely heartbreaking to see my brother walk down the same paths I did. And start to make the same mistakes I did. And no matter how hard I shake him, or loudly I yell at him, know in my heart that my words mean nothing without his will to perservere. He's fourteen... fresh meat for the wolves to feed on.

Building heaven on earth is one thing, but keeping the angels at home in the clouds playing their harps is another. Who needs heaven when you don't know what hell is yet?


Today, my brother and one of his friends got jumped by some scraps at a park. My brother doesn't even like red. He doesn't even know what XIV or norte even means. But now, he's going to ask around and find out... and he's going to align himself with whoever picks him up on his feet again. And I wonder who that will be.

Tsunami.

On the rise
On the rise
On the rise
On the rise.


Xibalba.
Phoenix.
Vesuvius.
Atlantis.

No indonesia.
No katrina.
No world trade center.
No crash.
No crest.
Its all one long peak.

Only a rolling swell to wash it all away and inundate the newly sown seeds.


I am the one towering over crumbling civilizations now.

February Eighth, Two-Thousand and Nine.

This song is track twelve on Kanye West's new album.




"On lonely nights I start to fade
Her love's a thousand miles away.

Memories made in the coldest winter
Goodbye my friend, will I ever love again?
Memories made in the coldest winter.

Its 4am and I can't sleep
Her love is all that I can see.

Goodbye my friend, will I ever love again?
Goodbye my friend, will I ever love again?
Goodbye my friend, will I ever love again?

If spring can take the snow away,
Can it melt all our mistakes?

Memories made in the coldest winter.
Goodbye my friend, I won't never love again....


Never again..."

One Month Later.

Yes. It is. A lots changed in that month. A lots the same. No more for you people. Not giving anymore. I see what happened here...


Tonights going to be my last hurrah. One more half full glass to cheers away to the night. There aren't even puddles to wet my feet in on the island I'm headed to. Dry. Very dry. Quenched mouths crack dry tomorrow morning.

Slipping back into the cloaked oblique is tough... remaining in stagnance is even harder.

January Recap.

- Made amends.
- Lost a job.
- Turned down my job offer for the airline.
- One awkward sexual encounter.
- Came up on a free sidekick.
- Sowed seeds.
- Returned to my OLD OLD self. Back to normal. Back to me. FINALLY.
- Stopped caring about the wrong things.
- Started caring about the right things.
- Played lots of pool.
- Bought lots of movies.
- Ran errands.
- Did sketchy things.
- Went to SF.
- Picked up a girl at work.
- Stole.
- Lied.
- Denied.
- Smiled a lot.
- Made friends.



Tonight, I drank 8 cups of coffee at mels and bowled two games with my homie C. Cook.


We spent ten dollars on the jukebox which got us 35 songs.
I brought back the good times and revived the dead days.

See You In a Month.



- Ryan-

Damn.

I fucking hate how impulsive I am sometimes.


The ball is rolling, and now its too heavy and too fast to stop.

No Subject.

Biker Collides With Concrete Curb, Dies

DENVER -- A 24-year-old man died Monday morning when his motorcycle crashed into a concrete curb in Littleton.

The accident happened around 2 a.m. on Holland Way and Mapplewood Place.

A black Suzuki motorcycle was southbound on South Holland Way when it drifted to the west side of the road and collided with the raised concrete curb, said Trooper Ryan Sullivan of the Colorado State Patrol.

"The rider was ejected and traveled into the grass shoulder and collided with multiple objects," Sullivan said.

The victim has been identified as Mitchell Marsolek of Lakewood, he said.

Marsolek suffered serious injuries and was taken to Swedish Medical Center where he later died.

He was wearing a helmet and alcohol and speed are being investigated as possible contributing factors, Sullivan said.


Copyright 2008 by TheDenverChannel.com. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Its all fucked.

So fuck it all.

January Nineteenth, Two-Thousand and Nine.

One of my best friends drove me home last night at 2:00a.m. We get to my house, jump out, smoke a cigarette, then he tells me to get in the car. He drives. We wind up at Lake Berryessa and talk for hours about life and this town and how infectious it all is. I was very drunk, but I was there for him. We must have smoked an entire pack of Camel 100s. And I don't even smoke.


I guess it was just nice and somewhat of a consolation to know that I am not alone in my wild, rampant, erratic thoughts and impulses. That there is another person who feels the same things as I do. I thought I was an anomaly, but its somewhat comforting to know that Im more normal than I thought. Or that other people are as fucked up in the head as I am. Im crazy. I think I could clinically pass for a number of disorders and that I possess many traits of a defunct person. Damaged goods? I dont think I would go that far... but its always good to know Im not the only person on a sinking ship.


When I leave, it seems like he's coming with me. Same agenda. Same aspirations. Why not?

GoneTomorrow

I made the screen name when I was 13 years old and in tenth grade.




I guess I never knew how true and ironic it would be.





Im always here, and Im always leaving too.
GoneTomorrow.

The Deep End

Looks a lot better from below.

Leap of Faith.

I applied for my old job back in Eureka.





Fingers crossed?

Whispers in the Wind.

With all this background noise, I am barely even audible.









I am the background noise.

January Twelfth, Two-Thousand and Eight.

From:Patryk Grobelny pgrobelny@gmail.com pgrobelny@gmail.com
To:gonetomorrow@aol.com
Date:Mon, 12 Jan 2009 8:25 am

Please consider this email the official letter that was promised to you.
After the recent incident of a certain amount of money missing, I have investigated the situation as well as talked with everyone of you. After reviewing past history job performance as well as information gathered, I am unable to give you any hours from here on out. Your last payment will be mailed today to the address you provided on your application.
If you have any questions, please let me know.
Pat



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


From: gonetomorrow@aol.com
To: pgrobelny@gmail.com
Date:Mon, 12 Jan 2009 2:06 pm

Its truly sad when an honest individual such as myself is released from a place of employment for a dishonest action that he didnt do. Granted, I am a rather cold, emotionless individual devoid of most ambition and enthusiasm, but does my distant disregard for YOUR problem make me a thief? I didn't kiss your ass or blame other people, nor did I make it MY problem that somebody stole money from you unlike my former coworkers. It wasn't my problem. You didn't have and still do not have proper loss prevention systems implemented to ensure the safety of your product, your money, your employees, and your business. In the real world, you can't trust people. It was obvious to me by how you ran your business that you had never been forced to face the real world. If you are going to bring up "past employment history" up, you should be prepared to furnish your information, along with how you got it, just in case I have a change of heart down south and decide to take you to court if my paycheck is short for this week or if I hear from another employee that my name has escaped from your mouth again. I know that if I take you to court, I will have to pay back taxes unpaid due to being paid in cash, but that in itself is a very small price to pay for the utmost satisfaction that I didn't come out on bottom for nothing. In all honesty, I don't think you even have information on past employment20 history. So I can call that bluff right now anyways. For future referencing points, I recommend a little more professionalism on your behalf in dealing with these situations. I don't expect the runaround from you when I ask why I am not on the schedule, and you couldn't even man up and tell me I didn't have a job anymore.


I didn't steal your money. Nor did I ever swindle anything out of Sunglass Plus. I was an honest dude making a gold hearted effort to climb off the shit heap. And you knocked me back down. As I said, I didn't take your money... but it brings somewhat of a cold, satisfactory smile to my mouth to know that you fired the wrong person and that the real thief is still swindling you out of money and product right now as I type this.

Sincerely, Ryan
707 624 0616
219 Plantation Way
Vacaville, CA 95687

Blank.

I am really at somewhat of a loss for words. But for some reason, I still type. I think its because typing in this stupid fucking thing is literally the only constant in my life. This blog spans lifetimes, from the first post to the latest. I've been a lot of different people in that time frame. Friends have appeared and disappeared in that time span. The opposite sex has disappeared and reappeared in various different forms. I have been happy. I have been sad. I have been broke. I have indulged. I have had moments of clarity. Moments of sheer blur. I have been numbed drunk. I have been painfully sober. And through it all, here I still sit. Confused as day one. I dont write, I type. Whatever comes through these fingertips isn't thought, it is merely reaction and impulse. I don't want to leave yet, but I have nowhere to go. Rent got doubled and I lost one of my jobs. I have nowhere to go. Where is my true north? Who is my true north? If I dont know where I am, how do I know where I'm going? Who are you to me? What are you to me? What am I to you?


I got fired for something I honestly didnt do. Because I didn't suck up as much as the other employees. Because I didn't blame other people like the other employees blamed me. Because I kept my head down, my mouth shut, and continued to work, I got fired. I have no idea who took the fifty dollars. I dont care to know who did. I know that I didnt. But without getting on my knees and kissing somebody else's feet and begging mercy for my innocence, I might as well have done it. All I wanted was a fighting chance. All I want is a chance. Two jobs via the Vacaville Bus System aint easy, but I did it. Two jobs and full time school was even harder.... But I did it. I got my life on track. I crawled off the shit heap. I clawed my way out. But I guess life makes a track of its own...

Do I sink? Or do I swim?

January Tenth, Two-Thousand and Eight

Its a real true bummer when you realize that you have permanent hearing loss. And that its getting worse. I regret never wearing earplugs when I used to play music, or just drums in my garage. I regret never wearing earplugs when I worked six inches away from running jet engines for nine months. I regret still continuing to go to shows and blast my music. But now, the only way I can hear my music is if I blast it.

Pushed In.

My parents doubled my rent. Looks like I'll be out of here a lot sooner than I planned.


I'm tired of having all my decisions made for me by inconvenient road blocks in life.

January Ninth, Two-Thousand and Nine.

I got 20.74 for going to coinstar with a giant cup of change. I also bought a 24 pack of Coke for 6.99. Thats a great price if you break it down... winds out to be around forty cents a can or something like that?




I love having days where I don't work.

January Seventh, Two-Thousand and Eight.

Picked it up at target, along with Rockstar and Catch Me If You Can. Goodbye, social life.

Skywest is hiring in Denver. I'll be out of here by April or so. I have a tattoo appointment on the 25th. And many more after that. I might lose my kiosk job because somebody stole 50$ from the register. It wasnt me. I would have taken a lot more. This new girl is too perfect for me, I think I'll probably wind up messing it up. I made a very big New Years mistake. I am a very solitary person. I have too many new clothes. I work too much. I am giving my turtle to my sister. I am getting a tropical reef saltwater fish tank started. I am going to Denver to visit friends for a few days in two weeks. I wonder if she is still there. Like she was. Framed and embroidered in gold and on hold in my name. Come pick me up, I've landed. I like living in no mans land.

If you're not getting answers

Ask better questions.

January Fifth, Two-Thousand and Eight

Today, a a somewhat distant, somewhat close friend of mine said to me "I love New Ryan so much more than Old Ryan. And I HATED Old Ryan..."







I never knew she hated me.

When You Were Young.

"They say the Devil's water, it aint so sweet...
You don't have to drink right now.
But you can dip your feet in...
Every once in a little while..."

January Fourth, Two-Thousand and Nine.

:)


Looks like calm seas and a clear forecast.

January Second, Two-Thousand and Nine.

I logged onto my old desktop on my old computer and stumbled upon a lot of music I used to be really into. I listened again to make sure I wasn't just an impressionable 15 year old when I listened to it a lot. For some, they suck. But some are really really good and I appreciate the albums more now than I did then. I really can't stop listening to Between The Buried And Me's "The Silent Circus" album because it is so good and so far ahead of its time, even by today's standards. Other honorable mentions are Killing The Dream's self titled first album and Full Blown Chaos' "Wake The Demons" album. If you have no idea what I'm talking about and are curious as to try to see what I see in music, pick these albums up somewhere.

Quality of Life.

Is different than Quantity of Life.