Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in Ryan's LiveJournal:

Wednesday, July 31st, 2002
5:23 pm	witness the rebirth of... stuff What to say? This is my third journal in the past year, and probably won't be permanent. However, we'll try to see how long we can stick it out this time. I don't get online much really, so updates will be sparse at best. I used to get online every day, for hours, but that's another story, one you already know if you're one of a few different people. Perhaps I'll go into it in more detail some other time. So, this is it: a recycled journal to detail all the drudgery, revelation and liquor store robbery that I see on a daily basis. I call it a recycled journal because I stole the code from myself, that is, my first journal, which was so short-lived most people didn't know about it. I feel that the username I created was chosen in the memory of my good friend David Strathy, who is no longer with us. He died of a horrible disease in Kuala Lampur, back in the 1970s. That, or he's spending the academic year in South Africa on Hopkins's dime. I get these things mixed up. I got new glasses today, via late parcel from the unreliable folks at our local USPS. This parcel also contained the result of some scrupulous saving over the last few years: a check for $1,000, all mine, all earned or taken from a CD account. This means I can pay for college, between this check and my grant money. Beverly says hello. Tonight we will watch the Simpsons, and perhaps play Scrabble. It isn't glamorous, but tomorrow night it might be. I love Beverly. You should, too, but not in the way that I do, or things would get really creepy. Speaking of creepy... time for pastrami. Current Mood: pastramic Current Music: hum, beep, double beep: copy machine (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, April 6th, 2001
12:49 am	distress We're all struggling to survive. Face it. Every day when you rise from your home and dreams, you must perform a function that is necessary for your survival. It is a never-ending pursuit, from the day you are born and struggle for first breath to the time you die and struggle for last breath. I realize something now, in the dark, with my awkward shaky fingers and my Halloween face. Sitting in the dark, I know now that we are truly searching for something that already exists. The simple point is this: you don't have to struggle for survival. You've succeeded in that. You've survived. You are surviving. I'm surviving. We as breathing organisms are creating our own dissent. We are attempting to relearn the process of respiration when it has been ingrained into us all along. Sip my tea, pause, put on a mellow song for a change. I don't want to dread the street anymore. I don't want to dread coming home from that street anymore. I'm so sick of doubt. I'm tired of needing more. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 4th, 2001
4:33 pm	in pursuit of me the backspace key is sticking and the music is loud. the bassline killed my goldfish, and my chair broke into a million slivers of futuristic insomnia androgynous androids, speaking to me Sanskrit and other misplaced languages. so now the speakers are blown, i can't type anything worth a damn for fear of seeing it shrug and disappear to where ideas go when they cease moving. the goldfish are floating regardless of my fervent attempts to resuscitate them with poems and hardline drugs. and on top of it all, i'm sitting in the middle of a floor littered with photographs of dead cars, imbecile friends wired to gently explode, and discarded cigarette butts. today is april, today is may, today is august never. i don't know, i lost track of the months long ago, didn't I? the blown speakers are beginning to sound great, but i still have the fish to clean up and unceremoniously flush to obvlivion. when do i follow them? i'm beginning to think life isn't so bad, despite the dingy curtain-filtered light and the death and Beatles records and rape and mysterious smokes of poetry. i'm going to survive. so i don't believe in god. so what? Current Mood: blah Current Music: Bad Religion - Atomic Garden (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, April 2nd, 2001
7:31 am	electricity the underlying sense is of floating eyes, seperating what it is to be conscious and driving my body down into the solid reassurance of earth. i'm euporia-sick and haze induced by the onset of this Messiah cock, don't you see? hallelujah for something honest, i'd go to church more often if i had AIDS, i know i'm all knees of ashpalt hopelessness but the undercurrent is stronger now. the room is explosions and muted television. the bed i feel is sinking into the love arms of space, vacuum of balls and saviour of soft galaxy in her or his palm. yeah. clenched lakes of stone yielding. late september breath beside me much later, raining over the trapped machine breaking bond and shouting at bone shadow "where are you going?" my friends are adorned in dirty rags of light and cannot help dying once in a while. the world smokes a cigarette and i keep vigil, not sleeping for weeks. there were things i forgot to say and so the coffee is black staining my voicebox now. even the uppers are downers, but i'm still awake. (Comment on this)
7:21 am	NYC, ya'll I wish my trips to NYC were more frequent. I mean come on, I only live 4 hours from it... but alas. At any rate, I finally went again on Saturday. I had a lot of fun, walked a lot of blocks, scared a lot of children. The main reason, of course, was to meet up with Beverly. For those who don't know, she's the girl. Yeah. That needs no further explanation. She was 2 hours late, so I stodd in the pouring rain in front of Macy's from 11am til 1pm. If anyone was on the corner of 34th and 7th during that time, you probly bumped into me. The dumbass in the green shirt with the black bag. But anyway, she finally came, and we hopped right into a cab headed for Soho. Odd, making out with someone in the back of a cab. The cabbie didn't even seem to care or notice. So get go all over, buy underground music from a street vendor (Mike Mike's music booth on Bleecker, go there if you're in the city, he's a good guy)visit all sorts of crazy places. We end up in the village an hour before my bus leaves. I had real Japanese food ya'll, finally. Yeah, I ate sushi and Pan Dhai. Yaaaaay. Oh, and let's not forget sake. I've always wanted to sit in a restaurant and say, "Waiter, more sake!" and so I did. Hopping the cab back to Macy's was a bitch. Rush-hour and all, you know. Some guy nearly killed us cause we stole his taxi. "I've been waiting here for ten minutes!" Hey asshole, that's the city for you. So I hopped a depressing bus back to here, and spent Sunday pacing around wishing I could catch up to the rest of me, the part I'd left in Mercer Books and Forbidden Planet and etc, but most of all with Bev. *sigh* (Comment on this)