Nobody Cares What You Think

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Just in case you didn’t know. Or if, perhaps, you needed a reminder…

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Started From Blue Velvet, Now We Here… (Gallery)

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I can’t stop making these and polluting social media with them. I don’t care if I’m the only one who thinks it’s funny!

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For reasons that I’m not concerned enough about to reflect deeply upon, I started out doing this with a clear Lynchian theme…

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…and, after burning out on that material, I was compulsed to move on to other imagery…

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You’re right, though. The joke kind of does begin to lose it’s appeal…

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Bro, Do You Even Gloom? (Gallery)

The following are a selection of images from my series of shithouse amateur cell phone photographs entitled “Bro, Do You Even Gloom?”

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He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.

Cormac McCarthy, The Road

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Indiscriminate Musings, Callous Language, and Nerd Rage

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Last day in The Meadows. Happy sadness. Miss me Dawgs!

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Partially delusional with sleep deprivation. Unable to type complete sentences. Terrible vibes all around us. Are these my hands?!

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Side Note! The Ryan + Meshuggah x 1200 mg Caffeine ^ Manic Moments = We may have broken something  \m/..\m/

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Conversations Held at Target (The CHAT):

Lady Jenn: “You need to get out more.”
The Ryan: “But I don’t want to get out more.”
Jenn Baby: “Your isolationism has made it so you have no idea how to interact with people.”
The Ryan: “I interact with people fine. You just don’t like the way I interact.”
Jenn: “You are ridiculous. I’m going to look at different stuff.”

Five minutes earlier…

Ry-Guy: “Baby! Check it out, I didn’t know they made Game of Thrones toys! It’s a tiny Tyrion Lannister. Well…tinier.”
Child of Seven: “Look! TRANSFORMERS!”
Seven’s Clan: “Kyle!”
Ry-No: “Mine’s bigger.”
Seven: “….”
Clan: “Kyle…get OVER here.” *uneasy, wary glances*

Aaaaand SCENE! Fuckin’ Kyle, man…Fucking. Kyle. 😀

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Perhaps 1200 mg of caffeine in a 90 minute period is too much. But I can hear colors (purple sounds like jet engines and bonfires) and it feels as though the Universe is coarsing through me in ecstatic trance, which is kind of cool. The downside is that I want to bury my brain in the crust of the Earth and use my spinal cord as a longbow in an epic battle with the piskies that have been invading my ear cavities and burrowing into my soul at night.  I should probably drink less liquid insanity. :/

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In just over an hour of milking the local library’s WiFi for all it’s worth on a manic, frenzied, stream of consciousness surf of the Interwebs of DOOM, I’ve managed to find a good two thousand dollars worth of vinyl and digital downloads that I am now obsessively longing to possess.

And ZERO fucking Dollars of DOOM. Wait a minute, though…do I really need two kidneys? This guy over here looks like he knows a few things about the black market vital organ trade…

Reason Number 5280 why I require “Adult Supervision.”

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SWEET BABY JESUS.

Zappa Plays Zappa at the Brooklyn Bowl Las Vegas, you say?! I am so glad I didn’t sell my spare kidney for vinyl money earlier. Cuz I may need to sell that bad boy for Zappa tickets!

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Or maybe I will just live here on the strip until April, making that good street money whilst perfecting my one-man “Ian Anderson Does Aqualung” solo performance routine, as well as gathering material for my “Post-Post-Apocalyptic Mutant Zombie-Stripper Waster-land Dia de los Muertos New King of Vegas Spiritual Saga Semi-Autobiographical Prophetic Novel”…

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I just found out that the fucking fluoride they put in our tap water is petrifying my pineal gland and driving my subconscious deeper into the abyss! This is some motherfucking CIA mind control Illuminati social conditioning bullshit. I prefer my pineal gland to be nice and pliable and juicy, goddamnit! This is a fucking conspiracy!

VENDETTA!!!

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Terrible Vibes All Around Us – Part VI – Witching Hour Wandering in Photos

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Las Vegas is a peculiar beast at 3 am on a Thursday.  In the off-season.  Man…I have wanted a reason to write that line for a decade.  Now that I have, the accomplishment feels…hollow.

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Fremont Street, most known for the pervasive and vibrant overhead deluge of spectral neon glooming, feels a bit hollow as well, this chilly February early morning, the “Witching Hour.”  My Jenn Baby and I share a pervasive and unpredictable sleeplessness — one of many symmetrical traits between us — as well as a penchant for waking suddenly and completely around three most mornings.  On this particular occurrence, and advantageous of our location this week, we felt the classic Vintage Vegas experience offered by The D, a bit of new packaging around the old heart of this city, calling to us from midway down the Fremont Street Experience.

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Because nothing in the world says “Keep Vegas Weird” quite like a bearded man in a mismatched arthouse t-shirt and nylon-polyester cargo pants, covered by a knit beanie and tailored suit jacket (*cough* Hipster! *cough*) earnestly playing a vintage pin-ball horse racing machine with his gorgeous, classy-casual, sweetly sarcastic Boo and a group of Mexican businessmen sipping chilled Patrón with Heineken and shouting at the mechanical jockeys at three in the morning on a lazy winter weekday.

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A genuine San Franciscan millenial in a t-shirt with art by Winston Smith blew by for a moment to chat Dead Kennedys and the history of the machine to which we were losing our ten spots.  Apparently there are only two others operational in the country, says California, one at the MGM and the other in Reno.  And like that, he is gone, his mission to proliferate random kitsch trivia complete.

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Later, headed back towards Fremont East, the streets are all but barren.  Only those with true grit, or those with no place else to go, remain.  A red-eyed man with a dark, sagging face asks if we have a bus pass we might part with.  Nearer our room, with the sun peaking over our Eastern horizon, a woman shuffles along behind an overflowing shopping cart, careful to clear out of the frame as I attempt a “selfie” with the vintage El Cortez signage.  Vegas is a place that loves to embrace its clichés…

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“Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant…”

Hunter S. Thompson

Catch up on the first five chapters of Our travel log!

Part I – http://wp.me/p5maOU-7j

Part II – http://wp.me/p5maOU-7r

Part III – http://wp.me/p5maOU-7u

Part IV – http://wp.me/p5maOU-7y

Part V – http://wp.me/p5maOU-87

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Terrible Vibes All Around Us – Part V – A Walkabout In Photos

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Took a quick leather tramp walkabout around the general vicinity of my “home” for the next few nights.  If you’ve missed the more verbose elements of Our story thus far, use the links below to catch up! Then, sound off in the comments and take a guess as to where We are 😀

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Part I – http://wp.me/p5maOU-7j

Part II – http://wp.me/p5maOU-7r

Part III – http://wp.me/p5maOU-7u

Part IV – http://wp.me/p5maOU-7y

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.