Fuck You, Government.

I’ve been trying since February to get help from the government with my mental health bullshit that’s been rearing it’s ugly, destructive head most of my life. Since then it’s been nothing but bureaucratic red-tape clusterfuck inanity. After another extended period of no communication on their end, I called today and found out benefits were denied nearly a month ago, but nobody bothered to send me a letter. Social service programs are specifically designed for cases like this, where mental illness symptoms are a significant detriment to successful interaction with society. As in, unless I get the help I need and start fixing these issues, I am liable to flip out and start physically harming hapless, brain-dead members of society. This is why motherfuckers bring a shotgun to work one day.

Fuck you, Government. >:[

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Musings on a Wednesday: Randomness and Observations

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– There’s nothing like the smell of wet cow ass in the morning. It smells like…well, like wet cow ass.

– Must be a leak over my bunk when it rains heavy, because I slept in a wet spot that I am 98% sure I didn’t make. Okay….82% sure.

– Is it oxymoronic to despise someone you’ve just met and otherwise know nothing about, based solely on their apparent association with a hate group? I feel like it kind of is, but I also feel like I’m kind of okay with that.

I don’t have to know a KKK member to think they are a piece of shit.

— Lady Mary

– Getting paid to do a whole lot of nothing for eight hours and then being rained out for the last two make for an easy workday. But an easy workday is not necessarily a “good” workday. Because FUCKING BORING!

– Somebody should start a cell phone service marketed specifically to the oilfield and pipeline that gets decent service out in all these B.F.E. locations. Since it’s for the oilfield and pipeline, they could overcharge like crazy and motherfuckers will pay it. You could make MILLIONS.

– I often consider murder as a preferable alternative to finding ways to coexist with a deplorable person. Then I think, well, that isn’t very Buddhist of me. Then, I double check which direction the blade on my pocket knife unfolds, in case I need to open it quickly.

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– The worst thing about using a freshly-pumped portable shitter is having the chemical water splash back up from a “projectile” and coat your undercarriage with filth. Well…that’s maybe not the worst thing, but it’s up there…

– So many many things in this world piss me off. You may have noticed. But few things piss me off more than unsubstantiated arrogance and swagger. Perhaps it has something to do with the apparent “fact” that those who actually have something to be cocky about generally are conversely humble and gracious. The motherfuckers that strut and cackle usually don’t have shit to back it up. Usually.

I will not do what the tick tells me to…
… I will not do what the tick tells me to…
… I will not do what the tick tells me to…
…I will not…….

— The Ryan

– Some days, when a person or situation disrupts my delicate sensibilities to the extent that the Others take over before I can practice “letting go,” I end up in a downward spiraling snowball of scorn and loathing that grows to consume the entirety of my consciousness to the point that I can only see the destruction of all existence as a solution. I feel only hatred. I can no longer see through my own perspective and headspace to determine if this is simply a byproduct of my sickness, if my anger and sense of apocalyptic hatred is just and warranted, if anyone or anything even deserves to fucking live, to exist. I say lay waste to the wasted. Be done with it.

Fuck money, fuck friends, fuck family! Fuck pussy, fuck drugs, fuck sanity! I don’t give a shit! Why?! ‘Cuz ignorance is bliss! Right?!

— Flatbush ZOMBiES, “Bliss”

– Sometimes I like pie. But not apple pie. Unless it is green chile apple pie. Seriously, yo…that shit is bomb.

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– No matter who you are, no matter what it is…music fixes everything. At least until the song’s over. Then you might actually have to do something yourself to keep shit fixed. But, fuck that, right?! ;-D

One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain…

— Bob Marley

– The moment I am writing something, it is the most brilliant and insightful thing ever committed to paper. The moment after I write something, I despise it with the fury of one thousand suns. I feel like I am not alone in this.

– I am stuck at the crossing of what is essentially a different version of the same fucking train I spent forty minutes trapped by a couple of weeks ago. I know this because of the graffiti. Or because I only dreamt this before, and now the shit is happening for real. And I have no data connection.

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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.

i am the chasm

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i named her heart
after a black hole sun
but the truth is
the void is in me
as dense and suffocating
as the ache in
my fucking guts.
i am the chasm
which consumes all things
with a hunger
ravenous
never replete.

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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.

The Rotten Piece Inside of Me

Title: PRIMITIVE MAN, “Stretched Thin” from the album SCORN

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I don’t yet know where the Scorn lives. But when it comes out to play, it casts its shadow over everything. It permeates unsparingly, absolutely. The things it feeds on die with agonizing deflation. It feeds on all things. When it is here, it is the only thing that exists, and it will not be controlled. Those which it takes leave their death cries resounding through the air for eternity. And some days that is all I hear.

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Images by BAG MAN Visuals by Ethan McCarthy

© 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.

Tormentor (I Am The Meteor Hammer)

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Title: Fister, “Flail” from the PRIMITIVE MAN/FISTER Split 12″

I’ve been reflecting lately on the pervasive idea that I don’t have anyone in my life who I trust implicitly. Obsessive ruminations feeding a chasm of paranoia. An inability to forgive, to see the other side, to let go. Precious solitude reflected in a negative. Strangers seem easier, but only objectively. There is no worry in the unknown there, because nobody actually exists to me until I have to look them in the eye. And then suddenly they are all too real, and in an instant they own a piece of me which I never knew I had, never knew enough to miss until it is ripped away. I tell myself lies like there aren’t many pieces left, in feeble attempts at self comfort, but the truth I keep buried in the back of my skull is that this will go on infinitely because two things are forever. And one of them is suffering.

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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.

A Soul Unwound (Ljudet Av Gud) A Thrum In The Deep (The Voice of God)

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Title: Full of Hell; “Thrum in the Deep”, from Full of Hell & Merzbow

…a man locked up in a shriveled and frigid selfhood, with no living currency of faith and love between him and his fellow creatures…

Dylan Walker, “Ljudet Av Gud”

Everything will be good for a time. A new job. A new person. A connection. A fleeting sense of normalcy. The illusion of purpose. Distractions. The crash is as inevitable as it is unpredictable. Violent end to a destructive ruse with no chance of self-sufficiency. A facade which cannot be maintained. Something triggers and the mask slips. And what’s underneath is a little bit less than before. Eternal rotting. Pieces torn away and dissolved. In time there will be nothing left.

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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.

Problem Resolution for Healthy, Stable Adults

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Image by Jhonen Vasquez: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac

This fairly sums up my problem resolution skills and stress management techniques of late.

The Pills You Take To Mend Will Be the Architects of Your Destruction: A Musing on Paxil and the Struggle With Madness

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Illustration by Joel Benjamin

Someone dear to me shared this outstanding post from Vice News on the subject of psychiatric medication withdrawal. You can find the original post by following this link.

Below is one of my own rantings on the subject from recent months.

Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan

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I have been on and off various psychiatric medications for my entire adult life, mostly concurrent with a good fifteen plus years of self-medication with “illicit” drugs and alcohol. Surprise of all surprises, I am also the kind of “adult” who can never seem to get his fucking life together.  This instability accounts for my inconsistency with staying on the legal drugs — I lose a job, I lose insurance coverage, I lose my doctor, I lose my mind.  In the midst of this, I destroy everything. 

Beyond that, I have ever increasing doubts about the efficacy of psych meds at all, coupled with growing anecdotal evidence and research suggesting I’ve never been accurately diagnosed in the first place. But that is a topic for another time…

I mentioned here that, for various reasons and circumstances, I would be going off the current “wonder drug” that I’ve been pumping through…

View original post 824 more words

Rantings on Madness with a Dose of Damn the Man

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After months of dealing with paperwork, questionnaires, waiting in lines, hours on hold on the phone, ridiculous inquiries, bullshit red tape, and other fucking ridiculousness, I still am no closer to obtaining health insurance. I have no idea what is going on with my mental health disability claim, and am at a loss of who else to try and contact. All avenues explored for low-income or no-income access to medical and/or mental health treatment services have been a fucking flaccid cock suck. I am too broke to afford food for my dogs. And I can’t even get hired at goddamn shithouse Target or fucking Wal Mart.

THIS. THIS is why motherfuckers snap and lash out in horrific, destructive violence. Fuck my life.

I’m throwing a self-pity party, and you all are invited. Bring cake you fuckers.

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Then, later….

So.

Around the same time that I started trying to get that good government-funded insurance coverage at the beginning of February, I also filed a claim with the Social Security Administration for mental health disability. Anything to get a little assistance while I try and un-fuck my mind.

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Just as we were about to move to Cheyenne at the beginning of April, I finally saw some movement on this when I got a call from a representative at the Tucson SSDI office. They needed to schedule an evaluation with a head shrinker to determine if my Crazy is legitimate. However, this appointment wouldn’t be happening until the start of May, by which time I planned to be nestled snuggly in the springtime snow drifts of Wyoming.

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Of course, this creates a problem. And the government minions in Tucson have no powers of influence outside of their own little Sonoran desert bubble, so the entire case would have to be put on hold and transferred to the Cheyenne SSDI office for further processing. Sure, whatever, just get it done. “Someone should be calling you in a couple of weeks,” I was assured.

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Here we are, six or seven weeks later. Fuck all. So I call the local Social Security office to check in, find out what’s what, see if I can do anything to move this along. Lo and behold, it turns out the fucking case was never even transferred from Tucson. It has just been sitting in limbo this entire time that I have had a thumb jammed up my ass to try and keep the Crazy from leaking out too much.

Fuck you, Government. Your shit is ABSURD.

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Oh, and I forgot to mention. It’s not that I don’t want to work. I have had several interviews over the last several months, in both Tucson and Cheyenne, for jobs I would have been proud to work. The interviews start off great. By the end of them, I have devolved into a bumbling, anxious, sweaty mess that can barely utter a comprehensible sentence. Call me crazy, but I suspect that might have been a factor in me not getting hired…

BitchFest over. For now. 🙂

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But first, for good measure….

In my madness, I am actively trying to alienate most or all human meat popsicles from my life. I’ve managed to purge several high profile carcasses so far this year, and there have been a few unplanned casualties. But all that means is we clearly need to step it up a notch!

Still chock full of irreverent sarcasm, however. We’ll need plenty of that to be in this thing for the long haul…

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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.

before the breaking

Moon Dog by Nick White

Moon Dog by Nick White


i can no longer recall
who i was before
the breaking

memories faded, distant
brittle frames from
home video left out
in weather and dust

there are hints
subtle whispers
a scent on the breeze,
suggestions of
who died that day,
reminiscent personality
left to rot in
so much mire.

i miss him
a bitter longing
or perhaps just the idea
that once this all
was different.

where once was
hope, now bitter
despondency.

where once was
love, now scornful
loathing.

where once was
passion, now caustic
agony.

where once was
vigor, now apathetic
lethargy.

where once was
genial empathy, now
selfish indignation

where once was
wholesome symmetry, now
all lies shattered.

Facing Uncertainty by Sara Biljana

Facing Uncertainty by Sara Biljana


© 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.