This is why nothing gets done.

I love how it takes me five hours to watch a one hour show because I think I recognize that guy and, wait let me Google movies that star a strong Latino barber, but hang on this Mountain Dew is empty and while I’m up we’re out of chips, so I better let the dogs out to pee, oh goddamnit someone vomited and, oh shit now someone else is about to vomit, but I was supposed to clean the bathroom today, and did I finish listening to that Buzzov*en album yet? LOOK, SQUIRREL! I need a nap.

Hey, look, a distraction…

© 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.

…down on the floor, scratching for more…

Title from Fistula, “Smoke Cat Hair and Toenails”, from the album Vermin Prolificus

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Manic as fuck. This has been building. It’s a frantic race to nowhere. A deranged rat on a hamster wheel. The sedatives aren’t working (“I think I can handle my sedatives, bro…” -Charlie). Cyclical thought experiments. Running through my past transgressions. Recall, revisit, rewrite, restore. This is why the lines get blurred.

Suddenly, focus. Something intense, white hot, piercing, and its all that there is. It envelopes from the inside out, wraps tentacles, consuming. It is all that there is.

It is gone. And there is nothing. Less than nothing.

Fractured psyche, rearranged. The protective cover of scar tissue. Healing. Growth. Change…

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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.

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.

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.

Just Insanity Things…

I think I might be schizophrenic. Does doubt concerning one’s own sanity itself exclude the possibility of insanity? I am definitely paranoid and delusional. As stated here before, I can identify certain things in my mind as absurd and delusional on an intellectual level, but that does not prevent me from believing these absurdities to be true, on an emotional level. It is impossible to form or maintain any sort of healthy and lasting connection with another person when the things in your mind are constantly distorting and perverting your interactions with and perceptions of everyone and everything around you. Paranoia and confusion breed frustration and I only know how to react in anger and desperation. Those closest to me suffer the brunt of my unpredictable and destructive flailing throes of madness even as I doubt the very legitimacy of their existence.  How can I make any attempts to resolve my issues when I don’t even know what’s “real”? This life is a fucking joke and I am the punchline.

I will not do what the tick tells me to…

© 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.

All Mike wanted was a Pepsi…

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If ever there was a tale to illustrate the need for widespread reform in how mental illness is handled in our society, it is the story of Mike.  All Mike wanted was a Pepsi. Just ONE Pepsi.

Next thing he knows, poor Mike is locked away in an institution.  Experience a first-hand account of Mike’s trials and tribulations below…

Sometimes I try to do things and it just doesn’t work out the way I want it to.
I get real frustrated and I try hard to do it and I take my time and it doesn’t work out the way I want it to.
It’s like I concentrate real hard and it doesn’t work out.
Everything I do and everything I try never turns out.
It’s like I need time to figure these things out.
But there’s always someone there going,

Hey Mike:
You know we’ve been noticing you’ve been having a lot of problems lately.
You know, maybe you should get away and maybe you should talk about it, maybe you’ll feel a lot better.

And I go:
No it’s okay, you know I’ll figure it out, just leave me alone I’ll figure it out.
You know I’ll just work by myself.

And they go:
Well you know if you want to talk about it I’ll be here you know and you’ll probably feel a lot better if you talk about it.

And I go:
No I don’t want to I’m okay, I’ll figure it out myself and they just keep bugging me and they just keep bugging me and it builds up inside and it builds up inside.

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So you’re gonna be institutionalized
You’ll come out brainwashed with bloodshot eyes
You won’t have any say
They’ll brainwash you until you see their way.

I’m not crazy!
(In an institution!)
You’re the one who’s crazy!
(In an institution!)
You’re driving me crazy!
(In an institution!)
They stuck me in an institution
Said it was the only solution
To give me the needed professional help
To protect me from the enemy — myself.

I was in my room and I was just like staring at the wall thinking about everything.
But then again I was thinking about nothing.
And then my mom came in and I didn’t even know she was there she called my name.
And I didn’t even hear it, and then she started screaming: MIKE! MIKE!

And I go:
What, what’s the matter?

And she goes:
What’s the matter with you?

I go:
There’s nothing wrong mom.

And she goes:
Don’t tell me that, you’re on drugs!

And I go:
No mom I’m not on drugs I’m okay, I was just thinking you know, why don’t you get me a Pepsi.

And she goes:
NO you’re on drugs!

I go:
Mom I’m okay, I’m just thinking.

She goes:
No you’re not thinking, you’re on drugs! Normal people don’t act that way!

I go:
Mom just give me a Pepsi, please.
All I want is a Pepsi, and she wouldn’t give it to me!
All I wanted was a Pepsi, just one Pepsi, and she wouldn’t give it to me!
Just a Pepsi.

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They give you a white shirt with long sleeves
Tied around you’re back, you’re treated like thieves
Drug you up because they’re lazy
It’s too much work to help a crazy.

I’m not crazy!
(In an institution!)
You’re the one who’s crazy!
(In an institution!)
You’re driving me crazy!
(In an institution!)
They stuck me in an institution
Said it was the only solution
To give me the needed professional help
To protect me from the enemy — myself.

I was sitting in my room and my mom and my dad came in and they pulled up a chair and they sat down, they go:
Mike, we need to talk to you.

And I go:
Okay what’s the matter?

They go:
Me and your mom have been noticing lately that you’ve been having a lot of problems.
You’ve been going off for no reason and we’re afraid you’re gonna hurt somebody.
We’re afraid you’re gonna hurt yourself.
So we decided that it would be in your interest if we put you somewhere.
Where you could get the help that you need.

And I go:
Wait, what are you talking about, we decided!?
My best interest?! How can you know what my best interest is?
How can you say what my best interest is? What are you trying to say, I’m crazy?
When I went to your schools, I went to your churches,
I went to your institutional learning facilities?! So how can you say I’m crazy?

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They say they’re gonna fix my brain
Alleviate my suffering and my pain
But by the time they fix my head
Mentally I’ll be dead.

I’m not crazy!
(In an institution!)
You’re the one who’s crazy!
(In an institution!)
You’re driving me crazy!
(In an institution!)
They stuck me in an institution
Said it was the only solution
To give me the needed professional help
To protect me from the enemy — myself.

It doesn’t matter, I’ll probably get hit by a car anyway…

Suicidal Tendencies released their ninth studio album, 13, in March 2013. “Institutionalized” can be heard on their self-titled 1983 debut full-length.

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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 musing on disquiet and simple acts of psychic upheaval

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It occurs to me — over and over again, because I never learn, and usually at the least opportune moments, but I digress — that the primary reason I procrastinate and stall and make excuses and put off trying or fucking doing anything (besides being rooted, as all things are, in Fear) is that I get caught up in the percieved or apparent enormity/entirety of a thing, I overwhelm myself with obsessive monolithic dissection, I let loose the mental patients in my head, and we fucking bathe in the feces encrusted misery of our own paranoid compulsive immersion. The thing becomes an uncontrollable beast in the china shop of my perception before I even have a chance to move.

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Take the act of meditation, for example. On a logical level, I understand and have even experientially witnessed the spiritually, emotionally, and physically healing properties of meditation. I know that practicing zazen would be the first best thing for me to be doing in this time of psychological disquiet and uncertainty. But, I am automatically consumed by the entire Universal scope of the idea of Enlightenment and peace and unity and understanding and nirvana and sublimely perfect cosmic alignment. And so I can’t see the forest for the trees. I am too caught up in obsessiving anxiously over the details of neurotic insignificance and distractifying minutia, and I am blinded to the simple, obvious beauty and wonderfully flawed delicate perfection of each magical moment.

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So, today, an experiment. An exercise in detached observational experience and willful, conscious presence. I read something that, as with all of the most profound truths, seems so obvious now. Meditation doesn’t have to be the ritualistic, solemn, esoteric act of spiritual perfection that I sometimes picture it to be in my muddled mind. The simple act of observing and experiencing one’s thoughts without reaction to them is an act of meditative contemplation. My intention for today is to attempt to allow my thoughts and emotions to flow freely through me, but rather than react to them and allow them to direct my behavior and feelings, I will practice at simply observing these thoughts and emotions, analyzing and attempting to understand them, and in this way perhaps I can arrive at a deeper understanding of myself and my place in these moments.

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And when I inevitably step off and engage and allow myself to become consumed with some neurotically poisonous snowballing wreckage, I must simply acknowledge, reset, and try again! This all seems so simple on paper…or LCD screen, as the case may be.

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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.

Manic Conversations By The Ryan, With The Ryan

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– I have that Thou song stuck in my head again.
– It’s a Nirvana song.
– Sure, but it’s the version Thou recorded that’s stuck in my head.
– Our head.
– Right. OUR head.
– Always is. Nirvana is catchy shit, even when DOOMED the fuck out.
– Hell, especially when DOOMED the fuck out!

– Blackened DOOM, they call it. DOOM sludge. Muck metal. Motherfucking swamp grind!
– Yeah…you ever wonder what would have happened had we gone to Tulane?
– We’d be dead. Just like every other scenario that isn’t this one. You always think this is the darkest timeline, but really it’s the best one.
– What if we’re dead now? Maybe we didn’t beat the train.
– Now don’t start that again!
– Hahahaha! Jungle Book is awesome…

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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.

Minutiae and Whimsy of a Day

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“My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression.”

― Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

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It looks as though our last day in Tucson (for the time being) will be March 31st. As of April 1st, we will be hitting the road to live out that gypsy wanderlust dream life! Also, Imma go to my sister’s place for a bit and write a book while she cooks me mac ‘n cheese and forces me to do my own laundry.

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Ever been combing through old possessions and become angered at the person you used to be? Like, “Motherfucker, how DARE you own three Limp Bizkit CDs!”

I’m, uh, asking for a friend….

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“I did it all for the nookie…totally justifiable.” – Fred Fucking Durst

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Apparently, during ’95 – ’96, I was designing my own magazine covers. I have no memory of this, nor any notion of what made these obviously masterful rags fold. Interesting…

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Now that Sons of Anarchy has wrapped, and Molly no longer has Chibs to idolize, she has been looking for another show to watch. I thought she would be into The Wire, but I didn’t realize how into it she would get!

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She said she wanted to be like Omar, cuz nobody fucks with Omar, and anyways it’s all in the game, right?

Because a dog has to have a code…

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As I have empirically discovered this languid and glorious eve, there seems to be only one negative aspect to sitting in the dark for hours spinning Sleep and OM records and meditating on the oft tragi-comic eccentricities of this mortal ebb and flow…

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…when one eventually goes to fire up that sweet and succulent stogie, the flame from one’s lighter may be fucking BLINDING, man! I have no eyes… O.O

Earlier in the day, jets and carriers from the base were out performing thunderously loud drills. Then there are, of course, the chem-trails. Over the past two hours we have had four separate power surges that reset everything in the house and fucked up my viewing of Better Call Saul. Then, just now, while staring out the window in a daze, the neighbor’s backyard flood light began rhythmically pulsing on and off, most likely beaming top-secret codified information into my face holes.

Coincidences?! I think NOT!!! I’m onto your clever, pygmy-conspiring, brain-wave manipulating ruse, you bastards! You’ll never decode my mind, NEVER! I’ve unsystematically randomized everything!

MUAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! ;-P

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After I go live like Thoreau in the North American wilderness for a bit and write my book, I’m tossing around the idea of renouncing all worldly possessions and desires and living as a pious reclusive monk in some remote Buddhist monastery in the Himalayas, pondering upon the nature of scorn and loathing and tending to the tiniest, most fragile and sickly of bamboo stalks as I observe vows of contemplative silence followed by therapeutic bouts of soul-screaming…

Step 1.))) Find out if “renouncing wordly possessions” precludes me from bringing my record collection along. I wonder if any of the Himalayan monasteries are presided over by a Master who appreciates some good DOOM?

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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.