I've just created a Word Press Blog located here
www.iluppn.wordpress.com
From now on I will be posting everything new there.
Future goals include getting rid of the wordpress and making it
www.iluppn.com
but that will take some money!
So until then visit the new site for any and all future posts.
Thanks,
Ryan
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Shinin' down like Water.
It's never just rain. Showering down with mixed emotions. You can dance or you can cry. The tears just blend in anyway. So flush your skin hot. Be sure to wet your socks. Splashing in puddles muddy with life. Sending pictures of days gone by flying to collect once again. Drop by drop coming together to show you the reflection of your smile (encased by the sky above). And as beaded water collects (then fly's off) your fingertips when you spin be sure to jump in that puddle again. Send those memories soaring over and over until you've chased away that boredom.
It's never just rain. So get out while you can before that damn sun comes back.
It's never just rain. So get out while you can before that damn sun comes back.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Still Sleep
My bookcase is about to fall, leaning like that famous tower, except not so glorious. A build-it-yourself cheapo that groans and moans and complains with the weight of too many books. With one push it would topple over onto the bed. Falling right down onto where we lay. My arm is around you, your head on my shoulder. You've fallen asleep and the world is perfect. I'm trapped underneath you. And I dare not move for fear that you wake. But it's good that you've fallen asleep. This way I don't have to move and I'd need no excuse to stay.
The mattress has no frame. It just lays on the floor. And the anchorperson on t.v. is talking about some foreign war. The faint voices grow dimmer and dimmer, becoming white noise to back up your steady breathing. I give you a small squeeze and lay down my head. Closing my eyes I smile. Because I know it'll only be a few hours until I talk to you again.
The mattress has no frame. It just lays on the floor. And the anchorperson on t.v. is talking about some foreign war. The faint voices grow dimmer and dimmer, becoming white noise to back up your steady breathing. I give you a small squeeze and lay down my head. Closing my eyes I smile. Because I know it'll only be a few hours until I talk to you again.
Little Drifters
It's been awhile since I've written anything decent because I've been caught up in 100 words.
I apologize. (quote from deadwood)
anyway. In lieu of a sappy post to make girls fall in love with me, I'll give you something I wrote just a bit ago. Basically a childhood memory. Hope you enjoy it.
When I was younger the neighbor down the street had a gigantic pool in his backyard. Being a mindful pool owner, once a year he would empty the entire thing to clean it. This process entailed attaching a huge hose to the side of the pool and running it down to the street. Then he would turn the valve and let the water flow. The water would follow gravity from his pool to the street, into the gutters and then drain through grates placed every so often into the sewers. The nearest grate was on the corner of the street. When he hit that valve, the water flowed from his house all the way down to the end of the block. The vast amount of water created a miniature stream in the gutter for the entire time the pool was draining. Even on days that were cloudless and scorching the water flowed incredibly strong.
In my yard there used to be a tree with very interesting seeds. Looking like needles, about an inch long, but flat. There was a vein running down the middle of the seed, giving it two sides. Well, when you put these seeds in water, with an avid imagination you no longer had a seed. Instead you had a racing boat! The bow was the pointy end which connected to the tree. My brother and I would each scour the yard for the hardiest and fastest boats we could find. Running up to the spot where the water entered the street we would each drop our boats in on the count of three. Then chasing and cheering them along we would race to the end of the block!
Years of wear and tear and nature had eradicated any smooth, seamless surface from the gutters lining the street. The voyage from source to sewer was a treacherous one to say the least. Not only were there loose pebbles creating rapids, but twig dams (you had to portage over these), and wide slow lakes that spilled out into the street (either you invoked the power of god to reposition your ailing craft, or you decided erect some sails and blow like hell). Always was the fear of losing your prized boat in the turmoil that was the gutter. More than once I stopped following mine for a split second, only to lose it among the numerous other boats that were making the trip as well. Sometimes the owners of the other craft decided that the trip was uneventful when you relied on the elements alone. Ignoring cries of "Don't! or Stop!", a racer would subject the opposing craft to a barrage of missiles intent on sinking it. Rocks and dirt would rain down upon the racecourse, sending waves and debris flying everywhere. It was rare that a boat survived a direct hit.
It was not common that a boat reached the end of the trip to the sewer. On the rare occasions that it did often it would only end up spilling over the grating and careening down into the depths, lost forever. When it had made a successful journey through the perilous course, often a racer would become attached to his noble craft and attempt to save it from the fall. Hurriedly a hand would reach down, trying to grab the boat before it fell. Sometimes the boat was saved and carried to the beginning to race again, others it was lost.
One day a year my neighbor emptied his pool. Usually during the middle of summer when it was hotter than anything. So with the sun blazing down on us my brother and I raced from end to end of the street. Racing our seed-boats and splashing in the flow of pool water on a cloudless day. We raced and ran and played until the water stopped. It was unnoticeable at first. But as the flow weakened, the rapids grew smaller, the lakes became shallower, and the boats slowed down to a crawl. Until finally the once-a-year river dried up altogether. We would stay with it until its last. Playing until our boats were barely moving. And then finally, we would accept the truth. Ending our race, we would trudge inside. Exhausted, quiet, yet smiling.
It has been years since I raced those boats in the gutters. I don't even know if my neighbor still has a pool even. But I can always count on those hot summer memories to bring a smile.
I apologize. (quote from deadwood)
anyway. In lieu of a sappy post to make girls fall in love with me, I'll give you something I wrote just a bit ago. Basically a childhood memory. Hope you enjoy it.
When I was younger the neighbor down the street had a gigantic pool in his backyard. Being a mindful pool owner, once a year he would empty the entire thing to clean it. This process entailed attaching a huge hose to the side of the pool and running it down to the street. Then he would turn the valve and let the water flow. The water would follow gravity from his pool to the street, into the gutters and then drain through grates placed every so often into the sewers. The nearest grate was on the corner of the street. When he hit that valve, the water flowed from his house all the way down to the end of the block. The vast amount of water created a miniature stream in the gutter for the entire time the pool was draining. Even on days that were cloudless and scorching the water flowed incredibly strong.
In my yard there used to be a tree with very interesting seeds. Looking like needles, about an inch long, but flat. There was a vein running down the middle of the seed, giving it two sides. Well, when you put these seeds in water, with an avid imagination you no longer had a seed. Instead you had a racing boat! The bow was the pointy end which connected to the tree. My brother and I would each scour the yard for the hardiest and fastest boats we could find. Running up to the spot where the water entered the street we would each drop our boats in on the count of three. Then chasing and cheering them along we would race to the end of the block!
Years of wear and tear and nature had eradicated any smooth, seamless surface from the gutters lining the street. The voyage from source to sewer was a treacherous one to say the least. Not only were there loose pebbles creating rapids, but twig dams (you had to portage over these), and wide slow lakes that spilled out into the street (either you invoked the power of god to reposition your ailing craft, or you decided erect some sails and blow like hell). Always was the fear of losing your prized boat in the turmoil that was the gutter. More than once I stopped following mine for a split second, only to lose it among the numerous other boats that were making the trip as well. Sometimes the owners of the other craft decided that the trip was uneventful when you relied on the elements alone. Ignoring cries of "Don't! or Stop!", a racer would subject the opposing craft to a barrage of missiles intent on sinking it. Rocks and dirt would rain down upon the racecourse, sending waves and debris flying everywhere. It was rare that a boat survived a direct hit.
It was not common that a boat reached the end of the trip to the sewer. On the rare occasions that it did often it would only end up spilling over the grating and careening down into the depths, lost forever. When it had made a successful journey through the perilous course, often a racer would become attached to his noble craft and attempt to save it from the fall. Hurriedly a hand would reach down, trying to grab the boat before it fell. Sometimes the boat was saved and carried to the beginning to race again, others it was lost.
One day a year my neighbor emptied his pool. Usually during the middle of summer when it was hotter than anything. So with the sun blazing down on us my brother and I raced from end to end of the street. Racing our seed-boats and splashing in the flow of pool water on a cloudless day. We raced and ran and played until the water stopped. It was unnoticeable at first. But as the flow weakened, the rapids grew smaller, the lakes became shallower, and the boats slowed down to a crawl. Until finally the once-a-year river dried up altogether. We would stay with it until its last. Playing until our boats were barely moving. And then finally, we would accept the truth. Ending our race, we would trudge inside. Exhausted, quiet, yet smiling.
It has been years since I raced those boats in the gutters. I don't even know if my neighbor still has a pool even. But I can always count on those hot summer memories to bring a smile.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
100 Words.
Recently I've gotten really into this website called 100 words.
located here : www.100words.com
You can go to their About section to read all about it. But basically it's a "social tasking" (coined by them, not me) experiment where users write 100 words (no more, no less) a day for an entire month. If you finish the whole month, called a batch, your work is saved. I started this July and have so far made it to Day 24. It is a bit difficult sometimes to say all that you want to say in a strict 100 word format. That's what makes it interesting.
Though my batch hasn't been completed yet, I'll post a few days here for you to read.
07/10
It's a plane ride, a train ride, a car trip away. But I can make it in a single day. It's worth the trouble, that I know. To travel from the land of snow, to the land of, um, er, more snow? I hope you smile and I hope you blush. Even though I cannot flirt all that much. The things we'll do, the list grows long. Kind of like some damn country song. We'll learn to swing dance, to sway, and to swirl. It'll be one hell of a trip. I cannot wait to show you, my Denver Girl.
07/14
With the whim of the wind I spin around again. No true direction at all. Except towards endless blue I fall. The skies around me are empty as I plunge into this sea. My mind wiped blank as I sank and sank. I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. Every effort to swim was meek and mild. In all my years I felt as if I were a child. And so resigned to my fate, I laid back and gave up on it all. The years and tears and fears. Thrown away. No more struggle and strain. I finally feel sane.
07/21
We do not know what the future holds. Obviously. All I know is what I am feeling right now. I can't promise you forever. I can't even promise tomorrow. All I can promise is that this very instant everything will be good. Because right now I feel everything so intensely. And I am going to make of it what I can. Not worry about tomorrow or ten years from today. Looking only at what is happening right now. Because these feelings are true and deep and total. And when it comes down to it, that is all that matters really.
located here : www.100words.com
You can go to their About section to read all about it. But basically it's a "social tasking" (coined by them, not me) experiment where users write 100 words (no more, no less) a day for an entire month. If you finish the whole month, called a batch, your work is saved. I started this July and have so far made it to Day 24. It is a bit difficult sometimes to say all that you want to say in a strict 100 word format. That's what makes it interesting.
Though my batch hasn't been completed yet, I'll post a few days here for you to read.
07/10
It's a plane ride, a train ride, a car trip away. But I can make it in a single day. It's worth the trouble, that I know. To travel from the land of snow, to the land of, um, er, more snow? I hope you smile and I hope you blush. Even though I cannot flirt all that much. The things we'll do, the list grows long. Kind of like some damn country song. We'll learn to swing dance, to sway, and to swirl. It'll be one hell of a trip. I cannot wait to show you, my Denver Girl.
07/14
With the whim of the wind I spin around again. No true direction at all. Except towards endless blue I fall. The skies around me are empty as I plunge into this sea. My mind wiped blank as I sank and sank. I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. Every effort to swim was meek and mild. In all my years I felt as if I were a child. And so resigned to my fate, I laid back and gave up on it all. The years and tears and fears. Thrown away. No more struggle and strain. I finally feel sane.
07/21
We do not know what the future holds. Obviously. All I know is what I am feeling right now. I can't promise you forever. I can't even promise tomorrow. All I can promise is that this very instant everything will be good. Because right now I feel everything so intensely. And I am going to make of it what I can. Not worry about tomorrow or ten years from today. Looking only at what is happening right now. Because these feelings are true and deep and total. And when it comes down to it, that is all that matters really.
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