How We Roll
October 17th, 2009 ryan
Straight gator.
Beware of This and That
Emergence
October 1st, 2008 ryanHeld off on any tangible commentary regarding the goings-on of late instead leaving communique to pictorial interpretation. Well, until now.
It’s funny. I maintain a significant web presence, revel in electronic communication, and keep a finger on the pulse of several communities while at the same time never declaring a major in this sprawling university of interaction. It’s like a former job I had as a jack of all trades but master of none. “It” being what I’m about right now I suppose.
So what’s Ryan been up to?
Pete’s Wedding.
My circle of friends narrows in to a very tight cylinder (or maybe a monochrome hula hoop?) around very few people. It was they that were involved in a whirlwind of travel and celebration on Pete’s behalf this past weekend. I really don’t have the words to how much I enjoyed the process from start to finish. Whether bouncing along asphalt and busting a cornfield U-turn for pie or watching a maelstrom of near-cataclysmic creativity circle two life-long friends I was saturated in an environment that had become utterly foreign.
My narrative or image-laden attempts at explanation can’t really do the experience or its impact as a whole justice.
…I had THREE wing(men).
Writing at The Weekly Geek
I won’t trace back the non-linear footpath that led me to this site but let me tell you thus far it’s been a fucking blast. It’s like a tiny itch right behind my eyes, deep in gray brain meats that gets exposed to air and scratched every so often. Still lacking in any actual, you know, direction but I prattle here and there and am having a genuinely good time with it.
Quit the Office Job
Touched on this briefly at inception and have been trying to unfuck the damage done to my already questionably unstable psyche since. I’m torn between the unending glee of knowing I’ll never, ever do something like that again and the eternal facepalm when thinking back to the two YEARS I wasted there. Lesson learned.
Got a 360
Something I’d like to call an impulse buy but yeah, not the case. Been jaded to the thought of gaming for a while due to the spastic entropy of my gaming PCs, finally caved, and have had a good time so far.
On the Slab
- Meeting some peeps tomorrow over at the Field. Plan is to continue on the Wired NEXTFEST. I intend to put a recent lens acquisition through the motions throughout.
- Traveling back out to Germany to meet up with a buddy stationed there. We did the fest last year and intend to do the same this one, then continue on to Berlin and possibly Paris, Budapest, or wherever. This will wrap up my joyful time spent unemployed.
- Still playing with the photography thing. I actually got to SHOOT PEOPLE this weekend. Insane, I know.
- New Job. New Digs. Same wandering, delphic agenda. Tactical pants, sun, sand, and my trusty leatherman.
- ?????????
- PROFIT
PotD – And I Ran
May 21st, 2008 ryan
I wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror and it hit me again, bass line causing drops of shower water to fall loose in unison from my puzzled face.
BOW BOW
The hell!? Where is that coming from? It’s still dark-thirty and my suburban pod dwelling is amongst the yuppiest of the middle class, a system like the one at the source of this mystery twang doesn’t even exist in the zip code.
CHICKA CHIC-KA
Wait a minute, this sounds familiar.
OH YEAHHHHH
That’s, that’s the fucking Ferris Bueller music…
Taste…
April 26th, 2008 ryan…he haz it.
Bugger has a history of teleportation, motives for which range from the basest of primal instincts:
- killing birds
- killin ur d00dz
- spite
- fresh napping territory
- spite
He’s been an inside cat for the duration and most of the time is content to look out the window, eat, and lounge in my general proximity. However, as he has historically proved, from time to time a deeper lust for The New takes over and he must have the most premium of whatever is at hand.
In this case a down-stuffed couch of wonder.
It just makes him happy.
PotD – Boil Order
March 14th, 2008 ryan
Prompted to break earbud suction by the public address system on my train, I listened to the auditory stylings of a local conductor which informed me of the boil order which was in effect for the residents of my current suburban pod dwelling. Nice of them to say, really, for it’s rare that I tune in to what is surely a repeating powerpoint on the village’s cable channel.
There are some that look back to the hardships of their past for empowerment, often bringing to question whether or not they’d make the cut now as they did then. Despite his pretentious mewling on the posh, smug, foodie inducing hysteria that is modern gastronomy I remain a stout fan of Anthony Bourdain. Though a self-labeled bad boy constantly reestablishing his gritty chef-cred the guy entertains and from time to time offers insights that I imagine would mirror some of my own were circumstances twisted my way to his sizable level of success not only as a chef, but as a writer and TV show host. Quick to bash others for their success and popularity, biggest example being Emeril Lagasse — which he later redacted, Tony himself was apparently heckled for his recent ascension which prompted him to man up and time travel 8 years to his past job as line chef.
So this week’s episode of No Reservations featured not some distant locale but Tony at work on the line donning whites, graying hair tied back, face red with exertion as he visibly struggled to keep in step with the elaborate dance the lunch and dinner rush demands. It is to his credit that his short comings were not, in fact, edited for the benefit of his image. Ballsy move but I think his proponents appreciate the honesty. Hardships considered to be victories naturally spawn cocky oratory and a palpable scent of arrogance. Legitimacy justifies, I say, and if you don’t like it you can man up your self.
As an upper-middle class white kid it took my striking out in a largely unapproved manner to experience any real hardship. Thusly, I’m a cocky bastard (both true!) constantly looking down his nose at the doughy, spoiled masses that make up the majority in this country. The ripple effect of the natives here not having access to potable water from the tap for 48 hours spreads further than I would have previously thought and, to be frank, cracks me the hell up.