Or. Do. They? O.o 1.))) Every experience in this life is a lesson. The most difficult moments hide the lessons we most resist learning. 2.))) The things that make us angry show us when we need to practice letting go. Typing that sentence is a million times easier than figuring out how to actually do … Continue reading Ten Stupid Things That Sound Intelligent and Profound (Or Do They?)
- 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 … Continue reading Musings on a Wednesday: Randomness and Observations
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. © Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range … Continue reading i am the chasm
Title: PRIMITIVE MAN, "Stretched Thin" from the album SCORN 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 … Continue reading The Rotten Piece Inside of Me
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.
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…
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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 … Continue reading before the breaking
My scornful misanthropy is already getting in the way of my attempts to foster ambitious effort today. How am I supposed to do things that require me to be around people if every dumb fucking face I see nurtures boundless, inexplicable impulses towards wrathful violence and furious loathing? Not your face, though. Your face is … Continue reading Upon Waking, Pure Hatred — And Yet, An Appeal
Whilst pursuing various "scholarly endeavors" today, I've been listening exclusively to Converge's entire discography -- including splits (no fucking demos, though) -- in chronological order. The experience is akin to masturbating furiously and then punching oneself in the dick just before climax, over and over again, with fluctuating intensity. And I mean that in a good … Continue reading There’s more than one way to pleasure the beast…
What follows is a selection from The Sacred Lost Tomes of The Ryan, the brief and terrible history of which is glossed over here and here. A lysergic, funereal ode to insomnia and hallucinogen consumption, this piece of shit was written circa 2001, possibly not long after I dreamed I died. one drop i can’t sleep, … Continue reading one drop
What follows is a selection from The Sacred Lost Tomes of The Ryan, the brief and terrible history of which is glossed over here and here. “Porcelain Strawberry” is the second piece of short fiction I can recall having ever written, not including whatever crap I may or may not have been churning out in my adolescence, and has … Continue reading Porcelain Strawberry (Part IV)