Things that geek me. (aka Why I love Assemblage 23)
Current mood: geeky
Category: Life

Thanks to all of you who have responded to the first part of my story "Even Death Is Obsolete." The critiques have been very helpful. And yeah, I'm a fast, sloppy typist so there are some mistakes here and there. Gonna clean those up on the next go around.

Anyway, I'm totally geeked because Tom Shear from Assemblage 23 is recording station ID's for RadioIDIC! He is such a cool dude. I got the chance to talk with him for a bit after his show in Detroit a couple of years ago, and he was very patient and generous to me and all the other fans who were waiting to see him. We have exchanged some emails lately, regarding my internet radio station, and he is very supportive of what I am doing.

I am very honored that he is doing these station ID's for me. Not only is he a great person, he is one of my favorite lyricists, and the music he puts behind those lyrics just rocks. So thank YOU, Tom!

Note: the station will be down today, but will be back up on Thursday. So make sure you tune in, cuz it might be my last show for a couple weeks. I'll explain why in another blog.

Good day all.

Currently listening : Contempt By Assemblage 23 Release date: 2001-11-13

11:45 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

EVEN DEATH IS OBSOLETE, part 1
Current mood: focused

Even Death Is Obsolete (part 1) by Ryan Lieske

'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,

And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;

And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,

And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;

And thereby hangs a tale.'

     - William Shakespeare, As You Like It

 
Simon Addams is the guy who once swore to me on a stack of soggy wet Bibles that the reason the world is so messed up right now is because he "put a gun to God's head and blew His holy brains out."  Simon  will try and tear the skin from my bones by the end of the night. I'll get his first, though. 

 But anyway ... Call it bullshit if you want, but I have the utmost belief in what he told me. This man, this Simon Addams is as crazy as bi-polar OCD, but he can't lie worth a tug. He's incapable, he truly is. The God he killed didn't give him the lying muscle at birth, so old Simon, he's been cursed to tell the truth even back in the days when people actually cared if you lied to them (though I have my doubts such a time ever existed.) Poor bastard. I don't know what I'd do without lying.

 Anyway, I'm sitting in a booth at The Convlusion Factory. It's this really dark, skanky-cool club in the acidic pit of downtown. The music is actually clear and loud and stompy. And the women are scantily-moral and clad. Same with the men. I don't like coming here often but there are times, such as tonight, when it's the only place on this (apparently) godless planet that seems right. Simon Addams is sitting at the booth with me, like he always is. And, like always, I neither invited him to sit with me, nor welcomed him when he actually did. I've never liked him.

 The Convulsion Factory, yeah, and I doubt Jymi, the owner, ever realized how appropriate that name was until now. Until convulsion became such an everyday word. Until so many people out there, out there in our real world, started involuntarily spasm-dancing to that infected music in their heads. Those hopeless victims of Muzak.

 That's not really what the disease is called, but it's what everybody calls it anyway. Even the newspeople, all over the web and TV and podcasts. The magazines. Everyone is calling it Muzak, and no one really knows who coined the term, but it sure as hell fits, so why not? Apparently what happens is, when the virus is infiltrating the system, it makes the Auditory Ossicles vibrate like crazy. Those little bones that carry sound deeper into your ear, I guess doctors call them the hammer, anvil and stirrup. But, anyway, those little bones go nuts and make these vibrating, clinky sounds and the person infected complains of hearing music in their head. Like, they'll be walking next to you, even in some quiet place like a church after dark, and they're going on about how the music is getting on their nerves. And you're standing there with them not hearing a thing. To them, though, the music really is getting on their nerves. It's eating into them like a legion of revved-up spiny oakworms. Soon after, yeah, the victim goes nuts. That's when the spasm-dancing starts. And you better not be anywhere near them, or soon you're hearing that music, too. Or you're ripped open and leaking on the ground. Dead.

 Someone out there, at least as far as rumor goes, was real close to one of these unfortunate people, and he's close enough to this person's ear and he can hear the music himself. Like, very faintly, but it's there. And, according to the rumors, he thought it sounded just like fucking Muzak. The New Agey, instrumental kind, you know. That's what this guy, whoever he is, claims: music that's all tinkly and warbly. Of course, once this rumor got out, a hundred others claimed the same things. And so it caught. Muzak. It's what we all call it now.

 And Jymi, that's how he's screening people to get into Convulsion Factory these last few days. Jymi. Love the dude to death, but he's always been prone to crazy ideas. Grandiose crazy ideas. And I can't say that at least this time around he wasn't right.

 What he's done is, he went and took out a loan from the bank. Thousands and thousands of dollars. Using Convulsion Factory as collateral, I guess. And he's got it in his head that the world's coming to an end, for real. Not like insane street-preacher style, not like Biblical prophecy. He thinks it's just that time, that the organisms of the earth, all those antediluvian, microscopic bugs we all forgot about millennia ago are finally rearing up and devouring our complacent asses. Literally. This is what he thinks. And so he got it into his head to throw the wildest, most decadent party he can manage. Which, if what he told me was true about the amount of money the bank loaned him, shouldn't be any problem.

 And here we all are, at Convulsion Factory, drinking, dancing, and fucking our way into whatever Apocalypse it is Jymi thinks is nigh. I don't buy into it. These things outside, these used-to-be-people ... there weren't many of them. But there were enough. People were hip to call them zombies, but I couldn't stand that word. It was the trend, though, because of all the movies. No, there were plenty of zombies already in the world, most of them at The Convulsion Factory. These things outside, they were just, well, messes. Messes of noise, of blood and shit. Yes they tear you up. Sometimes they would tear you up and they didn't even have fingers or teeth and tongue left to do so with. They had their ways, though. You could go days without seeing them, but if once you did, you got away, quick. That was all.

 The news of course is making a big deal over it. It's what they do. And it's what we all do. But I just don't buy it. I've seen some with Muzak. Nearly lost my skin to one a few days ago, before I ended up here. But I haven't seen any since then. No one fortressed in here at the Factory has, either. At least not for real.

 Jymi, anyway, thinks it's all coming down, and it's his place. And he offered anybody and everybody "asylum from the death and the rot and the fucking spasm-dancers," as he calls it. Free asylum. There's plenty of food, plenty of music. You can do whatever you want during these last few days on this plain, and you can do it without recrimination. The drugs are legion and variegated. Anything anyone could get their hands on, from anywhere in the world. And booze. A fucking ocean of it. All the while Jymi, more meth in his system now than blood, hosting this bacchanalia like some post-post punk Prospero, and what's festering outside is the Red Death.

 What Jymi is doing is, whenever someone comes to the door, he checks them out. Leans in real close to their ears. Outside, you can't hear the music, not even a thump of bass. And he listens for a whole two minutes, to each ear. So far, apparently he's heard nothing to set off his alarms. No Muzak. And so the crowd grows. There must be three hundred of us, easily. Maybe more, who can tell. So dark in some corners of this place. So many little nooks and rooms. Jymi owns the whole building, not just the club. Now, with Jymi's blessing, they are one and the same.

The Dj, this really pale, emaciated hottie called Dj Skeletina,all red latex and day-glo dreadlocks, had just kicked up this great track by Cervix Scream called "Rape My Sad Away." Her and Jymi, icing away the End of Days. How any two people could snort so much meth is a dead God's secret. Like Jymi, she's been going for days. She loves spinning the harsh stuff: Skinny Puppy, Terrofakt, intense, nearly primitive German stuff with unprounceable names and mock-fascist temperaments. I was well into my fifth Labatt and it was humid and sweat was beading on my forehead and neck. The moment was perfect and terrible, and I wanted to be alone with whatever icky thoughts it was I had. And then Simon Addams, he ruins the whole thing by talking. Like he usually does.

 "Even death is obsolete," he says, after swallowing half his bottle of MGD. I can smell a belch coming out of his throat from across the booth.

 I don't look at him. Never look at this guy. I only nod in the manner I always do with Simon, to say yeah, I ok, you're talking, but I don't care. Simon's going to keep talking no matter how you acknowledge him, so there is no escape. Save for moving location, or flat out leaving. And frankly I was too buzzed to care about doing either.

 "It is, man," he said, his head cocked downward because that belch I knew was coming was lodged down in his gullet. Simon is always on the verge of a belch. And it will always reek of an unflushed toilet full of diarrhea. "Death doesn't matter. Because we don't matter. Without us, it don't mean shit."

 Simon always had theories. He was always pontificating, whether he was inebriated or not. Like I said, the man could not lie. He could not even repeat a lie. So if he heard something from someone else, or heard something on talk-radio, or read something, or whatever, that was a lie, he couldn't repeat it. It was like, lacking the ability to do so himself helped him filter the truth out of others. I had heard what he said and it sounded like the usual Simon Addams dreck, but there was something in his voice that gave me slight pause. A hitch to his voice that was neither belch nor emotion. And that was weird, because the man wore his emotions on sleeves so big they could smother the continent.

 Still, though, I didn't look at him. He wasn't looking at me either. Never did. What that man looked at when he looked anywhere was an (apparently) dead God's own private mystery. What I was doing was looking at Annie, because she had just appeared at the bar. No one had been tending bar for days, so of course she was making her own. I hadn't even known she was here. Two days for me now, and I hadn't seen her once. We aren't exactly on great terms at the moment. Straight up loathing each other is the best way to put it, probably. Which means the sex was great.

 Her back is to me, pouring her drink, and I'm sitting there waiting for her to turn around and notice me. Last time I saw her, well, that was the last time I saw one of them. The one that nearly tore me and Annie apart as we finished a fuck in the front seat of her car. Like pretty much everyone I know, she wasn't returning my phone calls. And I guess maybe I was happy to see she was ok. I really hadn't talked to her since that night, since she went speeding off her roughed-up Pontiac Grand Prix and I went dashing into the night. I was still pissed she'd left me there, but I imagine she was just freaked. Hell, I was, too. Our mutual hatred, like our adoration for each other is intense, but not that intense.

 She still hadn't turned to look my way, and I heard Simon's beer bottle fall over and roll off the table. Not so much heard it as felt is at hit my foot. I looked down and then up and Simon and his face had gone gray. And he was staring over my shoulder, eyes strained and wide to bursting. And I forgot all about Annie and that night when we'd almost begun hearing the Muzak ourselves. Or worse. Because I turned around to see what it was Simon was gaping at. Because that's just what you do when you see someone looking over your shoulder like that.

 Because, it was right at that moment that a man wearing nothing but his own shit and shredded skin stumbled into the room carrying two heads in each hand. One being his own, and both draining ropy blood onto the already stained tiles of the Convulsion Factory floor ...

©2008, Ryan Lieske

Currently listening : Teethgrinder By Terrorfakt Release date: 2006-08-22

8:15 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos

That damned Road to Hell....
Current mood: quixotic
Category: Life

It's an old saying, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions." I don't remember who said it. Was it in Screwtape?

Anyway, I have this friend who, well, he likes to extrapolate. And one time I asked him why it was this adage was so true. And he had this to say: "I don't know. but I do know this. The greatest of intentions, that would probably be love, right? Even the tiniest of don't-give-it-a-second's-thought good-deeds is sprung from love, if you really get down to it. But I kinda think it's the bigger acts of the love that really pave the road. The big acts that just really fuck a person up. Not the one being offered the intended love, but the one offering. And we've all done it, right? We try so hard, we strain against every fact of the matter, trying to prove it wrong. Trying to prove that what we have to offer is so pure. And that's what damns us nine and a half times out of ten, you know? Pushing our intended love, our offered love so fucking hard like that, it turns us into another person. Whether we're aware of it or not, it does. And whatever feelings the person you're offering it to might have had for you, well, they just can't match up those feelings with this new person they see. And it pushes them away, whether even know it or not. And thus the struggle worsens, grows futile. And there's where the soul is lost, Ryan. It's lost because the struggle it once pledged itself to is gone. And those are Hell's favorite quarry, those souls. Because at that point, they don't even have any idea that they're damned anyway, because they've fully convinced themselves that they don't even care. What they were offering was not accepted, so what does anything else even matter?"

So yeah, my friend, that's what he said. Truth is, he may not have even said this. I may have made it up myself. Anyway, I haven't seen him in probably ten years, and I can't even remember his last name.

Currently listening : Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers By The National Release date: 2003-09-02

4:31 AM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Lifestyles ...
Current mood: thirsty
Category: Life

I was talking to a friend tonight on IM and we got into an interesting discussion. It got my mind going. Well, it's kinda always going, but a bit more so than usual.

And no, this isn't me hiding behind the 'third person.' I get that a lot. Probably cuz I do that a lot. Ha! But seriously, this time for real.

She was talking about how she had been hanging out with some friends recently, and how she really dug hanging out with them, but they were, at times, a bit too 'wild' for her. She feels her party days are kind of waning, and these friends of hers seem to be just getting started. She said she's cool with that, but just doesn't know if it's really where she's at at this point in her life.

Although, just the other day, one of these friends was kind of playfully 'giving her shit' about it. And though she took it as playful at the time, it did get her thinking about it. And talking with her about it got me thinking about my own life.

I can honestly say, without about 95% surety, that I am very comfortable with where I am at, as I slowly creep towards 35. I mean, no, I'm not happy with my job-life, my finances, or my love-life, but those are three things I've pretty much decided that those are never going to be what I would like them to be, so whatever.

No, what I mean is simple who I am as a person at this stage in my life. There are, of course, things about myself I don't like, and am trying to change, but becoming the ultimate person you want to be is, I feel, a happily futile, lifelong quest. But, generally, on a day to day basis, I am secure in who, and what, I am. I have goals, ambitions, talents, dreams. I don't always know where I am at particular moments in my life, but I always know, ultimately, where I am aiming to go. And I also know that I will get there. I have never had doubts about that.

When it comes to life, I will always be a glass is half empty kinda guy. But I don't really mean that in a bad way. I just don't see myself as ever growing complacent, with ever being satisfied. I always think I can do better, push harder, get further. I want everything, ok? And I feel there's nothing wrong with that, as long as I acknowledge that I never will get everything.

And neither do I go out of my way to pretend I am something, or somebody, that I am not. I am what I am: a 34-year old geek who is constantly seeking knowledge and experience. A writer who will always fearlessly explore the darkest facets of his own mind and the minds of others to get at universal fears and truths. I like to party. I love to drink beer and get drunk with my friends, cuss and have a great time. I don't like to do this all the time. But when I do do it, I know that I can sometimes overdo it. Not as bad as I once was, but still. Not saying I have a drinking problem, because I don't at all. I can honestly go weeks without it. But when I do imbibe, well hell, I'm not doing it cuz I love the taste of it. Know what I mean?

Drugs ... no thanks. I have never felt the appeal of narcotics. I just haven't. Yes, I have smoked a little weed now and again, but I truly do not, and have never, liked how it made me feel. So then why do it? I have no qualms against others who do, but I'm just not going to partake. (A couple of friends of mine, veteran LSD-users, have emphatically advised me against using acid. I've never really wanted to use it, but when I ask why anyway they say, "Dude, you're head and your imagination are pretty fucked up as it is, and I don't think you'd take that shit very well." And you know, I kind of take this as a compliment. )

Anyway, what i'm getting at is that I know who I am, what makes me comfortable, and where I am going. However, I knew what my friend was talking about. Like her, I have sometimes felt the urge to go along with something for awhile, just to please others. I'll admit it. I have. I've suppressed certain things, or 'hyped' certain things about myself to certain people. Why? Who knows. To make an impression I thought they would appreciate because I hardly knew them and wanted to get in with them? Maybe.

I like having friends from all walks of life. I am interested in a lot of things. But yeah, sometimes I have taken on different 'faces' to different people or situations. Maybe I think that if these people know I really don't care to do what they all want to do they might not ask me to come around when they do do something I like doing. Know what I mean?

I do feel as though I have done this less and less over the past few years. And I know that I have gotten better at doing it myself to others. And I think what the cnversation I had with my friend made me realize is that I truly now see that every body has their own idea of fun, of life, of how time should be spent, and what things are worth thinking about.

What one sees as rebellious and fun might seem kind of bland to someone else. You might like to jump out of airplanes, or snort coke, or get tied up models dressed as Nazis and have cucumbers stuck up you're bum. And that's fine. But just don't expect everyone else to think the same way you do.

Do we all do this, sometimes trying to convert others to lifestyles simply because it works for us? And is this why some of go against ourselves because we sometimes let others convince us that we're 'missing out' cuz we aren't as crazy as them, or as well versed in Shakespeare as them, or as eager to try new foods as them? I mean, just because I willingly let my mind go to pitch-dark places by reading a book like Jack Ketchum's The Girl Next Door or watching a sick-fuck movie like Caligula doesn't mean I think you're less of a person, or a coward, because you don't. So if you come up and ask me to go two-tracking with you out into some field in the middle of nowhere, with a driver who's just inhaled two Revenge of the Nerds-sized Wonder Joints, don't immediately call me a pussy and tell me I don't know how to live. I'm living pretty well, thank you very much. My way. And you are yours. So meet me next week for drinks and tell me all about it. Or not, if that's not what you feel like doing. 

I'm not giving any answers here, just asking questions. For the sake of an interesting discussion. I would, truly, love to know what you all think. And again, I must reiterate that I have done been on both sides of this equation many times. The guy giving the shit, and the guy taking it. Not in any way saying I'm innocent here, so no cries for my hypocritic head, ok?

Great. Breakfast time.

Currently listening : The Art of Revenge By XP8 Release date: 2007-11-27

2:43 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

The Ruins
Current mood: sneezy
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

So I just watched The Ruins, the film based on Scott Smith's nasty bestseller fo the same name. The book sold billions of copies and received a lot of good reviews, but most EVERYBODY I talked to who read it hated it. I mean, seriously. I don't think I've met one person yet who actually liked the book.

I did, though. I thought it was a hell of a lot of fun. Like sick and twisted B-movie. A quick read, and gory as hell. Sure, the characters weren't all that likeable, but so what? It's not like every person you meet in life is likeable. Stuff happens to them, too, you know.

Anyway, I thought the book was killer, and anybody who didn't enjoy it just doesn't now how to have any fun.

The movie, well ... eh. Could've been a whole lot better. In essence it captures the book, but there are so many little things that have been changed or omitted that it gets kind of annoying. I mean, the book it itself wasn't that complicated: a group of tourists are held hostage on top of an old Mayan ruin by a tribe of gun and bow-wielding natives. If they try to climb off the ruin, they get shot. And then the tourists start figuring out why exactly these natives are keeping them in place. I won't ruin it if you don't already know, but let's just say it has something to do with a very ubiquitous, and very creepy vine that is growing on the ruins.

It's pretty simple, and I don't get why they changed the things they did. Just silly. Sure, they may have had to make the flick a little longer, but so what.

I'm not writing out a whole review for the movie here. I'm just letting you all know that I thought it was decent, but that you should totally go and read the book first. Most of the truly horrific, messy parts are intact on film, so disappointment there. But what's missing is a lot of the psychological tensions that fueled the narrative on the page (again, I can't say much for fear of spoiling, but there are certain dramatic elements from the start of the story that are needed to be known if what happens later on is to have a any impact. Follow me?)

I just couldn't sleep, so I popped the movie in. Passed the time. But I doubt I'll be thinking too much about it, as I did the book when I finished it last summer.

Good day all... go listen to my radio station!
www.live365.com/stations/radioidic

off to nap ... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ....

Ryan

Currently watching : The Ruins (Unrated Edition) Release date: 2008-07-08

2:37 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Damn, It Feels Good to be a Gunslinger
Current mood: strong
Category: Life

I totally want this tattooed on my arm...

"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I aim with my eye.

I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I shoot with my mind.

I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
I kill with my heart."
— Stephen King (The Gunslinger (The Dark Tower, Book 1))

Currently listening : Geto Boys - Greatest Hits By Geto Boys Release date: 2002-11-19

5:28 AM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

It had the word ’controversial’ in it, so I had to...
Current mood: chipper
Category: Quiz/Survey

Man, I normally hate surveys, I really do. But for some reason felt compelled to this one. Probably cuz it's 10:30 in the morning and I'm feeling really good cuz the Borders down the way had the new Fango and the new Rue Morgue. Oh, and I'm cooking a steak for breakfast, so I have to do something while I'm charring that beast.

Do you have the guts to answer these Q's? If so repost as The Controversial Survey?

1) Would you do meth if it was legalized?
No. I'm not really a big drug person. Done the occasional toke, sure, but most other drugs hold very little interest for me. Plus, I saw the movie COOKERS, about crazhed meth-heads. And I have enough problems in my life without that shit.



2) Abortion: for or against?
I'm pretty much pro-choice. However, I don't advocate nor believe in abortion as 'birth-control.' I just think people can be stupid when it comes to sex. If you don't want to suffer the consequences, then be smart about it. Duh.

3) Would our country fall with a woman president?
No. I hope not. Why would it? Women are just as capable as men at doing pretty much anything. On that same token, stupidity does run rampant in both sexes as well.

4) Do you believe in the death penalty?
Yup, for certain cases. Namely, cold-blooded murderers, genocidal despots, and child-molesters. Otherwise, you can rot in a cell for all I care.

5) Do you wish marijuana would be legalized already?
Hell yes. That and prostitution. Seriously. If I want to pay for sex, I should be able to. God know that would be nice right now ...

6) Are you for or against premarital sex?
For the love of God, FOR! Namely, if it wasn't for the pre-marital variety I would NEVER get laid. Secondly, no way I'm marrying somebody without either of us knowing how freaky the other gets in bed.

7) Do you believe in God?
Yes, I absolutely do. But I refuse to label him/her, or insult his/her intelligence by sticking them into one religion. That's just silly.

8) Do you think same sex marriage should be legalized?
Yes. It's absurd that it's not. It's just a piece of paper, for crying out loud. It's not like letting two men marry each other will put a stop to the human race. This is just legal bullshit.

9) Do you think its wrong that so many Hispanics are moving to the USA?
Not if they're legal. If I have to be a registered citizen, then everyone else that lives here should, too. I don't care where they're from. Just do it right, people. Life's so much easier that way.

10) Would you kick out that kid that showed up at your party that you kinda didn't like when hes got the best party supplies?
Dude, if it was my party, all the good 'supplies' would be taken care of already, so fuck that kid.

11) A 12 year old girl has a baby..should she keep it?
No. For the kid's sake, hell no.

12) Should the alcohol age be lowered to 18?
I don't see why not. If we can send you off to get your ass splattered all over the desert by a homemade dirty-bomb, then you should be allowed to booze it up on the weekends. It'd make dating easier, that's for sure.

13) Should the war in Iraq be called off?
Yes, but seriously, what good would it do at this point? A fuck-up's a fuck-up, so somebody has to get it straightened out or we'll just be back there again. And if not us, then somebody. Oh, my God, fuck George Bush!

14) Assisted suicide is illegal..do you agree?
I have always advocated the right to die. It's your life, and if things are that bad and aren't going anywhere but worse, then it's your right to end it.

15) Do you believe in spanking your children?
Hell, I was spanked and I turned out just fine. (Well, there is that fetish I have now that creeps out some of my GFs, but oh well ...)

16) Would you burn an American flag for a million dollars?
Who's watching?

17) A mother is declared innocent after murdering her 5 children in a temporary insanity case..what do you think?
This is a touchy one with me. While I fully acknoweldge that psychiatric conditions play a part in everything we do, I am still not sold on the idea that it should get you off the hook. I guess I would need to know more.

18) It's between you and a person who is being kept alive by life support machines..one has to die? Who?
What kind of question is this? Personally, if I'm the guy on life-support, I say let the person with the good life go on living it. So I would expect him to do the same for me.

19) Are you afraid others will judge you from reading some of your answers?
I don't really care. 

Currently listening : 23 By Blonde Redhead Release date: 2007-04-10

7:33 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Feeling pretty good.
Current mood: tired
Category: Life

Visited Grand Rapids this past week. Had a ball with my crew. Feeling pretty good about myself.

Actually, while here, I was offered a sort of job with something that, if done properly, could be a pretty big deal. And, frankly, I think it's something I want to be a part of it. This news came to me pretty much out of the proverbial blue, so imagine my elation at being offered to be a part of it.

My book is nearly done. And that is accompanied by the usual feelings of accomplishment and sadness.

I am only dismayed by the fact that there was a certain element of anger and hostility within myself that I was hoping to relieve. Not saying I don't get to relieve it. I just didn't get to relieve it in the manner I was hoping. But that's their loss, not mine.

Hee hee.*

Yours truly,

Ryan Lieske

* 'hee hee' was muttered with a very, very evil laugh.

Currently listening : The Failure Epiphany Limited By Unter Null Release date: 2005-11-28

3:07 AM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

nope, not yet

the other blog is sealed. i do not have a preferred list because i prefer all of you.

i will open it. just not yet. i'm not teasing. it's nothing special.

just not for anyone's eyes but mine. for now.

when i do open it, you will not know, cuz it will be titled differently.

I love all of you. except Rick. he's a dork who actually liked D.O.A.

1:13 AM - 5 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

"Getting Even God To Swear" a short story by Ryan Lieske
Current mood: hopeful

Getting Even God To Swear
by Ryan Lieske

"And why the hell would I trust you?" God asked the supplicant.

The supplicant shrugged, adjusted his cramped and tingling knees on the cold, hard ground which surrounded his haphazard campfire. "I only ask for this one thing, Lord."

The supplicant's hands were, of course, folded, fingers enmeshed so tightly that they were nearly bone white.

God, who could not be seen by the supplicant, shook His head from side to side. Galaxies quaked, and minutes were shaved from the countdown to the End.

"Myself," God then muttered, audibly enough to be heard by the supplicant. "I blessed you with brains, for the love of myself, yet you continue to keep them frozen in that skull of yours!"

The supplicant's eyes narrowed, his fingers squeezed tighter. He didn't know what to make of this comment. He used his brains. Too much, maybe. Or were those emotions he was thinking of? Were they the same thing, he wondered?

"Lord," he said, quietly. He was convinced the omnipotent one was riddling with him. Speaking some deitic tongue he couldn't possibly fathom, yet should try and fathom for his entreaties to be heard. "I am afraid I don't understand. I ... I do use my brai- ... my mind. I use it much. People say I use it too much, sometimes. I have been often accused of thinking too much, by my frien-"

"Oh, shut up, shut up, shut up!" the Lord bellowed. Years and years and years away, a star went supernova, and a planet nearly dead went silent forever. "I am tired of your bullshit! I give you humans so many ropes to hang yourselves with, and I curse Myself everyday for giving you these abilities. Number one on My list when I create a new world from the old is to eradicate bullshit. You have all become so good at it! Whatever in My Own Name was I thinking?"

Thunder like an unsettled meal rumbled in the clouds. The supplicant dropped his hands, but kept them entwined. He kneeled, despondent, utterly, deeply despodent. He wasn't doing very well here, he was losing ground, losing confidence. Without that stubborn stone of determination lodged in his gut, he would've folded then and there, beside his dwindling campfire. Perhaps with thumb stuck firmly in mouth.

"Lord," he began again. "I - I do not know why I have angered you so. I simply ask -"

Lightning struck the ground, only scant yards away from where the supplicant knelt. And somewhere, somewhere far away and quite unknown to the supplicant, something utterly innocent and furry and wandering, died well before its time.

"You," God intoned, "you are always asking. Pleading, pleading, pleading. And how, pray tell Me, have I not answered your questions?"

"I ... I have never seen the answers, Lord, I - "

"Bullshit! Again! How dare you pull this tired game on Me! Was it not I who gave you the ability to bullshit?"

The supplicant blinked away droplets of rain that had begun to fall. The fire sputtered out entirely and he was left in entire darkness. Entirely at the mercy of the God he loved, the God he swore he had unerring faith in, the God he was angering.

"And," God continued, "was it not I who gave you voice to ask?"

"Y-yes," the supplicant stammered, the rain was so cold it was bullets to his open mouth.

"The if it was I who did this, and if it was I who did everything and all things, then why, WHY? do doubt that I have answered?"

A silence so sudden and so palpable settled over the land. Even the rain, which beat upon the supplicant's face like angry, razor kisses, was silent. If nature and the universe truly were machinations of the divine, they were dead to the ears. All the supplicant heard was the tremble of his pulse in his temples. And in his chest, the source of that pulse, straining and screaming to flee its cage.

Finally, without knowing he was really going to, the supplicant spoke: "I know you know all things, Lord. You created all things. You created me, and every longing in my soul. You know every breath I am going take unto my last. You know every firing of every synapse. You hear even the growth of new cells in my skin, when the old flake away to dust. I do not doubt you, I do not call you liar."

God did not speak. Still, nature and the universe was quiet and still.

The supplicant continued: "I only know that when my heart truly desires, when my soul aches for what it cannot have, I can turn to you, Lord. I can turn to you to calm my heart, to soothe my soul. And to show me the way. To answer my prayers."

God said, "And you have not been given what you desired?"

The supplicant was taken aback. What was this? Would not God know that he was unfulfilled? That he still longed and painfully ached for what it was he wanted? How could God not know the answer to His own question, if He did, indeed, know all?

"I have not, Lord," the supplicant said after some moments hesitation. "You know very well I am hurting, that I still ache -"

"And I have given you the answers you seek," the Lord said.

"But I - I don't see ..."

"I have given you the answers you seek."

The supplicant dropped his folded hands to the soaked earth, his posture sagged. Around him, rain puddled with the ashes of his fire, bathing the caps of his knees in black and gray.

"Lord, I admit ignorance, then," the supplicant finally said. "For I see no answers I sought. I know no answers I sought."

God smiled though the supplicant could not see. Dark matter tittered in the space between planets and stars, and new suns swelled into being, kindling the soils and atmospheres of worlds that would one day know life.

And then He spoke to the supplicant: "Then I ask again, why the hell should I trust you?"

"Trust me?" the supplicant asked. "Lord, trust me?"

God began to turn away, and carried a million new lives and a million new deaths in a million new and old places in His wake.

As He turned He spoke: "When you have learned to trust Me to give you the right answers, I will learn to trust you to ask the right questions."

And He was gone. The supplicant stared into the raining sky, eyes wide and he did not know if he was crying or it was the rain.

And he did not know why it was he suddenly found his heart had ceased its tremble, and why a smile was stretching across his face.

Currently listening : American IV: The Man Comes Around By Johnny Cash Release date: 2002-11-05

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