cat power...

check out this dude's art. i want him to do an album cover.



darren grealish.

people fall apart...

i'm falling apart right now. i thought i was okay with everything, but i wasn't, and it all came flooding back. only time, time, time...



(art from here.)

-ryan

devil's night...

campus life...

yowza!

the alex p. keaton.

i'm off to montreal,
later 'gators,
ryan

vancouver dude...

shit, the dude was just in montreal, and now he's gonna be in vancouver, and i gotta miss both of these shows... it just ain't right...



anybody who knows me, or has been reading my shit over the years, knows how much i love this cat's music...

...
...
...
...
...

okay, i just booked a van for montreal for the weekend.
heading up on friday night.
anyone around?
hollaratme,
ryan

p.s. are you ever afraid to go to sleep? like, you're just laying there in bed, and you're tired, and your eyelids are heavy and your body wants to sleep, but you fight, you keep trying to stay awake, for no apparent reason, like, you keep asking yourself "why won't i just let myself sleep? what the fuck is my problem?" but you don't know, but you just keep doing it anyway?

the loneliest punk...

i woke up this morning to the sound of a broken spaceship tunneling under my house...

insane dreams last night, many of them, not one of which i remember.

i just found out that i am going to get my ass kicked soon, which sucks, but what can you do?



okay, dreams...

i had one last week, i was in this place, it was like an airport departure area, filled with people. and just like in an airport, some of them are sitting, waiting, reading magazines, talking to others, and some are rushing around, late for something, trying to get somewhere. the thing is, this wasn't an airport, it was a dream departure area. this was the place that we all go to when we fall asleep, the place where our spirits go to leave our bodies, to go to certain dream spaces. also in this place, were people leaving for the permanent dream, death. strange, but it makes sense... in both death and dreams, your spirit exits your body, forever and for a little while, respectively. so it would make some sense that the exit point would be the same. i was in this place, i guess waiting to depart on my dream, semi-aware that i was already dreaming. there was also these giant digital screens, where all of us could look to see info about departures and arrivals, and at one point this movie started to play on one of the screens. it was like one of those fake roller coaster rides, you know the ones where it looks like you're on a roller coaster on the screen, and the seats move a little bit up and down, side to side, but you're not really going anywhere? it was like that. then, above my head, appeared the grim reaper. but not the scary, ragged-robed, dusty, you're-going-to-die grim reaper. no, this grim reaper was cartoonish, like a video game character, exaggeratedly short, with a smiling skull face and a little cartoon sickle. he hovered above us on the roller coaster screen, but i think i was the only one who could see him. i have no idea if any of this means anything, but i'd like it to mean something, because it's really cool.



(cartoon from here)

another dream...

i am in a boat. the inside of the boat is small, and looks like behind the bar at my job. i am dancing in this little boat. old school hip-hop style, like scoob and scrap lover or kid 'n play. there are a couple of other people dancing in this boat with me. one of them might be doug e. fresh. we're having a good time. later, there is a flood, or something, yes, a flood. i end up at a house, with a bunch of old school rap celebrities. yes, doug is there. and so is biz. we end up at somebody's house, i am not sure who, but they live atop a hill, so we go there to be safe from the flood. some of us then take the boat out into the waters to rescue other. i see jeff (one of my bosses) and his girlfriend grace, sitting on some dock, we pull the boat up, they get in. the dream then jumps into a completely different thing. i am alone, i am breaking into somebody's house. it's a nice house, in a nice area, high in some hills. there is a flood coming, which is why i've come to this area in the hills, to be safe. this house belongs to the neptunes. in my dream, i know them, but they're not home, but i decide to break into their house to be safe from the flood, knowing that they won't mind. now i am in the house. (strange things is, this particular house has appeared in other dreams of mine before...) i look out the back door, into the yard, over the pool, down the hills at the city. i sit in the kitchen, and i think i am making some food. i look out of the front door, and down the street, a neighbor is talking to a police officer and pointing towards the house i am in. i guess she saw me breaking in. i broke in my smashing the front door, but somehow, it is now not broken. the police officer walks up the steps to the front door. i am not worried. i can explain. i open the door. i wake up.



(photo from here)

i have more i will share with you when i remember them.

3 things to be excited about:



1. outkast's new album, i think in december.



2. pharell's solo album, i think in november.



3. fat lip's solo album, i think in october, but i've been wrong about that one before. remember when i told you all to look out for it in the summer of 2000? yeah. whoops. i don't know what's taking them so long, but i was talking to this cat ty recently, who works at delicious vinyl, and he told me it's coming out really soon. i guess i'll believe it when i see it. damn. i've been waiting.

if you want to read the old article i did on him in vice, you can peep it here, here, and here.

have you seen the spike jonze documentary on him? peep it here.



so me and the boys went to toronto last thursday and tracked the drums for all the new songs. we've got the studio together now, so progress is being made. i'll have something to share with you in the coming weeks. i am super stoked, loving what is happening. we went to our man roger's new studio, boom box. wicked set up. fuck boys!

so i've been battling the booze, winning most battles, but losing a few. my first attempt at rehab week, i managed to make it to 11 days sans alcohol. then i decided to have a few beers, then the next night i decided to drink a brewery and keep several small countries in business. going to garage sales at 10 am while still up is stupid. crashed out at like 2 pm, woke up at 7:30 pm (luckily) when i had to work at 8. yikes. went to the bar, in a strange daze, feeling like crap, but fighting through it. it didn't help that a huge brawl broke out inside the bar. some idiots were in there drinking, too many shots, and one moron pukes inside the bar. so, i ask him to leave, and he says no. no? yup, no. i say dude, you have to leave. he says, no, i am not leaving. i say dude, this isn't up for discussion. he says make me. i say dude, seriously, we're not going to argue this anymore, you have to go, and i put my hand on the back of his shoulder, at which point he decides to take a swing at me. great. i can't fight very well on a good day, but especially not when i just woke up, am half crunked, and already nauseated at my existence. he misses. i don't swing back. i get the door guys. i go back behind the bar. a few minutes later, kaboom. tables getting knocked over, broken glass everywhere ("people pissing in the street like they just don't care...." sorry, i had to throw that in there), and escalation. what starts as two of our door guys talking nicely to get one drunken asshole out of the bar, turns into one drunken asshole taking swings at our door guys, who then grab the drunken asshole, who's other drunken asshole friends then decide that they want to have some fun too, so they start to grab at our door guys, at which point chaos breaks loose and everybody's grabbing at everybody and swinging on everybody, and eventually the dudes realize the cops are on their way so they take off, knocking shit over and smashing shit. the cops get 'em up the street, and surely they all got a night in the drunk tank, and jesus, my adrenalin was going like mad so i went out back and puked in the alley. my second attempt, i made it to 8 days. then i went out on saturday night and once i got a taste... apparently i was up on a chair at the bar dancing and i am not sure why, but i woke up with a five dollar bill in my boxers, which were soaking wet from the jacuzzi. it's a life, and it's mine, and you know what, most of the time, it's not that bad.



other than that, i've been chilling. just working, trying to get these song lyrics together, jamming with the boys, and having a few beers here and there. i've also been spending way too much time on this damn computer, feeding my current obsession, researching and downloading music from france in the 60's. so good. i am in love with everything jacques dutronc.

i'll be hitting up montreal this weekend. i have to pick up my stuff. fuck, it's going to be so expensive. the whole weekend is going to cost me at least a thousand bucks, which i don't have, but have to try to pull out of my ass in the next few days. anybody want to go along for the trip?

i am writing this at some coffee pub place, filled with normals on lunch from their office jobs in the area, the ladies in their black pants that every woman in every office in the world seems to wear, talking about todd and stacey with the other black pant wearing office girls. i am going to head back home now, hopefully the broken space ship is gone.

fly casual,
ryan

nuts...

i'm aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive...

i haven't written on here in a while.
i've been going through a bit of a funk i guess.
just the onset of winter, mostly.
it always gets to me.
my mom starts chemo this week.
i'm going to shave my head when she loses her hair.
we had coffee the other day.
she was hiding her fear, but it was in her eyes.
i can't think about it without crying.
i have an appointment with my old doctor on thursday.
i hope i remember to go.
i'm getting a physical... i want him to test me for EVERYTHING.
also, i will ask him for a referral to a psychiatrist.
it's time i asked for help.
i can't do this alone.
i will write again soon, probably...

for now, here's a message i got today from my friend dj frane...



"i hope...

you're living your life like you're really alive. not like you're scared to walk barefoot in the muddy grass of your own PLANET and gaze up at the beautiful/amazing moon behind the amazing fluffy great clouds. i'm aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive. we're alive, ryan. that's all that matters.

-frane"

thanks man. yes, i'm trying to live like i'm alive, but sometimes i'm just not sure what that means. but no, i'm never scared to take off my shoes. ever.

good day everybody,
ryan

gone to shit...

it's been like a week since i've written on here, but i've been crazy busy/depressed/hungover/coming down/sleepy/annoyed by life, so whatever. my buddy jovahn says this page has gone to shit since i stopped drinking, and he's probably right. whatever. more shit tomorrow maybe, got some stories to tell from this week, and a couple of dreams to bore you with too...

for now, look at these things, i'll write tomorrow if i have time...

this is nelson...



(no, he doesn't always dress like that).

he's a cool guy who let me crash on his couch last time i was in new york.

(thanks.)

he's dj'ing at this party, check it out, tell him fritz tha cat sent you, and he'll buy you a beer...





this is amanda...



she's a super-cool chick (who i must admit to having a bit of a crush on...), and it's her b-day next weekend. go say hello, tell her fritz tha cat sent you, and buy her a beer...



pat giles makes the coolest sculpture-paintings...



g'night,
ryan

somnambulisms...

i think i had the strangest dream i've ever had in my life last night. it went on for hours, days maybe... i don't have much time, i'll tell you about it tomorrow or the next day. so weird...

for now, check out blackbird at niggypop.



and flug.

i hope you're well,
ryan

thanks for the love, josh... most cats don't know...

"Special thanks to Fritz le Chat who is singlehandedly responsible for many things in this country, including a packed room of Devin fans."

(photo from matt sonzala)

syndicate sniper...

y'all know this guy?



donald-d.

b-boys...



rhyme syndicate...



notorious...



let the horns blow...



well, dude is living over in europe now. he's got some new shit out last year...



and he's got a new electronic group happening, capucino.



peep it.

vid sicious...

hey, does anybody know if it's possible to put up videos on this site? or any other site? i've got some stuff i'd like to show you...

oh yeah, i'm heading to montreal on oct. 14th for 2 nights. gotta go pick up my shit. i can't wait to be reunited with my records and cds and books and my dragon desk and dove table and vietnam hat. i'd like to play a show, if anyone knows a spot to rock on short notice. tim, any ideas?

if it wasn't for a mic check...

i wouldn't have a cheque at all...

rehab week. day 10. a few people have asked me, if it's rehab week, shouldn't it only be seven days? yeah, well, here's the deal... if i say it's rehab month, and i only last two weeks, it's a failure. if i say it's rehab week, and i last two weeks, it's more than a success. so, my goal was a week, and i made it, so now i'm just taking it one day at a time, seeing how i feel in each moment.

truth is, i'm craving a heineken like nobody's business. i think tomorrow will be the day.



sahra told me something about freud saying that the definition of insanity was repeating the same actions and expecting different results.

another dream last night, but unfortunately i can't remember it. again. i gotta remember to keep a pen and pad beside my bed, for morning and middle-of-the-night emergencies.



last night i'm working, and a buddy of mine comes in and tells me a little story about the aceyalone show i opened for last week. apparently acey wasn't too pleased with something i did during my show. at one point, between songs, to get the crowd amped, i started into the first verse of acey's "mic check," acapella... you know it... "i start most of my raps off kinda slow, so you can see exactly where i'm gonna go, i make sure your body's strapped in, 'cause i'ma tailspin and you're liable to get thrown, the bible is the microphone, i read from the scriptures, leave it up to you to see the picture..." or something like that. ended there. anyway, obviously, those in the crowd who knew those lyrics, got into it, sang along, and got hyped for the show. good times. a show of respect. apparently not to mr. hayes, who was on some "who's kicking my lyrics?" type of style. now, i don't know if this really happened or not. i didn't talk to dude that night. after my show, i had some beers, and hit up another bar. i didn't even watch his show. so this is just a little bit of juice through the grapevine, but still, i find it interesting. another cat i know asked acey for an autograph and was denied. and he was one of the dudes who organized the show! i don't know, what do you think? is dude tripping? i've got a lot of respect for the cat's history, shit, along with the pharcyde and hieroglyphics, freestyle fellowship is responsible for about 95% of the underground rappers doing shit today. it's just a bit weird when, especially in a small, isolated city like london, cats are HUNGRY for rap here, and when somebody like acey comes to town, it's a rare occurence, it's a big deal to these kids. dude, you got your money, can it hurt that bad to take a few minutes, sign an autograph, take a picture, and make some kid's year? "i hover above emcees, like a flying saucer, with the sorcery, to alter the future..."

lasers,
ryan

p.s. don't forget, rock hard and pull out.

rehab week - day 8...

and on the eighth day...



(drawing from here)

i had another fucked up dream. this time, i was in this building, seemed like an apartment building or hotel or something. lots of glass. and balconies. there were all these samurai assassin looking people. japanese. with these robes on. and swords. i was in a room with all of them. i wanted to smoke, but i wasn't allowed to smoke on the room, so i walked down the hall, to this glass-enclosed balcony thing. so i'm standing there, smoking, overlooking some city, and all of a sudden they're all there outside the glass door. my little room is locked, and i'm not sure what they want, but i sense a mild hostility. then they're gone. i finish my smoke, and go back to the room, not sure what to expect, and the room is trashed. it looks like a big party had taken place. there were still people around. normal party people, and samurais. everyone was drunk. then i noticed my new laptop sitting there, completely destroyed. it was bent out of shape, concave, like a car had driven over it, and all scuffed and scratched. i was pretty upset. shit, i hadn't even had it for a week. stupid drunk samurais.

it's 5am, good night...

ryan

7 and 7 is...

"7 And 7 Is"

When I was a boy I thought about the times I'd be a man
I'd sit inside a bottle and pretend that I was in a can
In my lonely room I'd sit my mind in an ice cream cone
You can throw me if you wanna 'cause I'm a bone and I go
Oop-ip-ip oop-ip-ip, yeah!

If I don't start cryin' it's because that I have got no eyes
My father's in the fireplace and my dog lies hypnotized
Through a crack of light I was unable to find my way
Trapped inside a night but I'm a day and I go
Oop-ip-ip oop-ip-ip, yeah!

One... Two... Three... Four!

holy shit. day seven. i can't believe it. if i can make it through today, it will be a full week. i feel pretty good.

so, yesterday, we were supposed to record demos in the afternoon, but the boys got into it a little bit the night before, so nobody was feeling up to it. i chilled out all day, worked on some lyrics, and then my flatmates had a few friends over before hitting the bars. i didn't really want to go out, but i also didn't want to get cabin fever by staying in two nights in a row, so i went with them to this place called the barking frog, which is one of the biggest todd-bars in town. too many pretty boys with their prep shirts and gay hair, and dumb debs with their wannabe paris clothes (or, more accurately, lack of clothes). the place was packed, and after about ten minutes i was getting claustrophobic (not to mention, toddstrophobic), so i jetted, and left my flatmates and their girls on the dancefloor. i cruised by the alex for a minute, had a couple of perriers and admired some of the talent, then hit home, watched chris rock's never scared, and crashed out.



i was planning today, on going to a buddhist meditation thing, not exactly sure what it was, but a dude i know told me about it. it started at 10:30am, and i set my mental alarm for 8:30am for it. i woke up from another insane dream, then fell asleep again, thus forgetting the dream, and waking up again at 10am. i jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and walked fast to the place, but i was too late, and didn't want to walk in after it had already started and interrupt everybody. i haven't been up that early in a long time, the world is different. i figured, since i was up, i should do something i never do, so i decided to go to church. walked by three churches on my way home, and i had missed services in all of them. again, i didn't want to walk in after they'd already started. so, i just bought a coffee and picked up a newspaper, and chilled out in the park for a bit, in the shade. some big fund-raising cancer run was going on in the park, and they were blasting paul simon's greatest hits from the bandshell, so it turned into a nice little morning after all.



seven sayings from the cross.



oh yeah, a few weeks ago, i put up the wrong link for blake's shit. here it is.



check out clear label recordings, tajai's label. even just watch this for the site intro, it's stupid fresh.



also, check out mr. dibb's selfcore records.

steve-o drunk. funny shit.

i think i'm going to take a nap,
then work on some music,
and go to work tonight,

later alligators,
ryan

rehab week - day 6...

another weird dream last night. i can't remember all of it, just a few pieces. i'm sitting in a classroom. high school. i'm in high school. i think it's the last day of school for the year. the class ends. everyone's packing their bags up, leaving the room. i'm stalling. i think there's a girl i want to talk to or something. but i don't think i have the guts to talk to her. i think i'm pretty nervous and shy. i walk out of the class room. i walk back into the class room. the girl is talking to the teacher. i turn around and leave. now i'm in another class room. the desk is really small. the teacher is talking, doing something on the chalk board. i'm bored with the lesson. i'm looking at something. on the desk. in my hands. something in package. i'm not sure now what it is. i think to myself, that i'd like to ask the teacher if i can borrow the math textbook for the summer, so i can work on some things. i haven't been paying attention in class, but i learn better on my own, anyway. next thing i'm walking down the street (richmond st., in london, walking south, on the east side of the street, between regent and victoria), with *****. it's night time. autumn. cool, but not cold. orange leaves. it's not raining, but it has recently, there's moisture in the air. you know the way, at night, when there's mist in the air, the way approaching headlights look? yeah, it was like that. anyway, for some reason i was wearing these weird pants that i'd stuck holograms all over. i kept looking at them, how they reflected the light.

more coffee,
ryan

oh yeah, a strange series of events happened a few days ago, that i've been meaning to tell you about. i was having one of those rough kind of mornings, not feeling too good about everything, and i went to the grocery store. waiting in the check out line, i saw in the next line over, a woman, who was about four feet tall, obviously retarded, severely overweight, with half a beard. a fraction of a thought entered my head. i walked outside, on my way to get coffee, and in front of me, crossing the street, was a blind man, with his white pole. when he got to the other side of the street, he became disoriented, and walked out into the middle of the intersection, with cars all around. i ran into the middle of the road after him, and when he turned around... he had one of the scariest faces i've ever seen in my life. his face, looked like playdoh, it was pretty flat, but with dents and craters, and the palest of pale skins. his eyes, a gassy, milky, cloudy swirl of impossible blue, they did not look real. the most striking feature of this man, was his hair. and a little goatee. white. not white meaning grey or a blueish white, but white. pure, completely, total, white. the whitest of white. cotton white. it did not look real. it could not have been real. i have never seen anything like it in my life. it was real. i told him to grab my arm, i'd lead him back to the corner. he did. i did. at the corner, i tried to talk to him, listen to him, figure out which way he wanted to go. i could not look at his face. i could not not look at his face. he couldn't understand what i was saying, he was very upset, frustrated at his / my inability to communicate. he was yelling at me. finally i had to just let him walk away, and he went back the way he had originally come. another piece of that thought entered my mind. i got coffee. on my way home with my groceries and coffee, i heard this loud bang, and looked up to see a car driving over a road median. the car stopped a few feet after, and an old woman got out, visibly shaken. i was about half a block away, and quickened my pace to see if she was okay. she had just driven straight over the little road island, didn't see it at all. perhaps her eyesight isn't too good. perhaps she was just distracted. she was now walking around her car, making sure it wasn't damaged. i was almost near enough now to speak to her, when another man approached her, from a nearby porch, where he had seen it happen. he asked her if she was okay. she did not reply. again, he asked her, are you okay? still, no response. one more time. nothing. was she in shock? embarassed? she half waved him off. he turned, back towards his house. she got back into her car, and, slowly, drove off. i walked home, that thought now, almost, complete...



(picture from samuel araya)

sleep...

it's 1:30am and i just got home. had a band practice tonight, which went well. we're recording some demos tomorrow. the boys went out to the strip club, but fuck, i'm on day 5 of rehab week, and i'm not quitting now. so i came home.

going to sleep soon...



check out graph nobel. she's got some new songs posted up.

if i was in toronto right now, i'd be here...



okay, i almost crumbled tonight. sitting on the table on *****'s porch was a bottle of jack, and shit, i almost went in, but fuck it, i'm feeling this, i want to see what kind of dreams i'm going to have tonight...

g'night all,
ryan