Friday, December 2, 2011

Madness Washer

I am rather proud of these two new abstract paintings I created yesterday. They are both done in acrylics and measure 8 in x 10 in. I also added some extra ephemera for texture such as wood chips and pencil shavings. These are also listed in my online art shop: www.buddhkist.etsy.com


December Creativity

 Hello gents and ladies or whomever happens to be reading this. I don't know exactly who has or hasn't been frequenting my website but neither matters much. My Thanksgiving weekend went by faster than the time it took me to eat three helpings of turkey and stuffing. Mmmm turkey. I've been in the middle of a somewhat creative renewal this holiday season and all is going according to plan. I've finally started to paint on real canvas which I'm finding adds a lot more life to the colors I use and makes it easier to stretch and hang. I'm also busy preparing for recording a full length demo with my band, we already have the studio time booked for the next couple of weeks and will most likely spend a good month or so on the whole mixing/editing/mastering process. And of course I am always busy writing my eclectic poetry and circumstantial stories.



www.ryanandrewloera.weebly.com



Distinctly Dire

Distinctly Dire

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Something Else


Something else became unobservable. What exactly? I do not know. It is too early for me to detail and much too late for me to divulge. Although, it is a matter of great urgency and should therefore be seriously considered and reconsidered if need be. I’m not at all offended by quixotic remarks from unknowing bystanders. The most important thing to remember, without losing one’s selfish grip on reality, is that the human brain is a very powerful ally. Unfortunately, most see it as nothing more than an appendage and/or vital organ. But it is these things and so much more. So much more than even one person can fathom.
  We have been lied to all of our lives. Not just little white lies here and there but full-fledged, uncompromising lies. Before you go and label me as yet another conspiracy nut; take into consideration my vision and perspective. If after all that is said you still feel it necessary to ridicule me and throw the proverbial stone; be my guest. I’ll even hand you the first stone. But not before I summarize and debrief the rest of humanity. So, with that in mind, here is my version of things. Of all things that have been and all things yet to come.
  For most of us time seems to work against us and never with us. This is a bit of an understatement but can be easily rectified. We’ve been taught to believe that all things are ruled by time. It would be more accurate to say that all things are ruled by our perception of time. If you do not understand what I’m getting at, and I’m sure you don’t, please bear with me. It may take some time and effort on both our parts but we’ll get there.

Story About

Writing a story about somebody writing a story. Can't be much simpler than that.

 My new book Flesh of the Muse is now officially published and ready for online purchase! I will post the respective link later. :-)

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

So Many Possibilities

 I want to write a story about a man who is obsessed with peanut butter. Or maybe a story about a woman who is dumped by her fiance then decides to open up a candy shop. Or maybe some kind of romantic comedy type novel. I suppose I could write a really heart-wrenching novel about people losing their faith in themselves. Or a story about someone inspiring others to pursue their dreams and ambitions. So many possibilities out there and inside my head.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

No More Division

People tend to pay attention to the wrong things. In matters of societal change we've always been divided. Mainstream media has divided us, government has divided us, the banks have divided us. I for one no longer see any use for division. The founding fathers rebelled against their own government when others told them not to. Now we must do the same. It is unfortunate but it is necessary.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Brunette



Upset the brunette
She doesn’t like
To be alone
She only loves herself
And that’s no joke
She isn’t very beautiful but
She tries
Brunette

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Library Dialogue

Went to my local library yesterday. I usually make it a point to go once a week; sometimes twice. I've started to become interested in screen plays. Not just reading them but also becoming familiar with their structure and dialogue. I believe it is slightly easier to write a screenplay than a novel. Mostly because a screen play focuses on dialogue and a novel tends to focus on descriptive narrative. I recently read the screen play A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams and found it to be a bit over dramatic but it does contain some great dialogue. I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I have been toying with my own screen play idea. So far it is under the working title Because I Said So and it is a simple fish out of water type story. The main character, Van Confucius Schwartz, is an aspiring writer and is tired of his work going unrecognized in the small Texas town he grew up in. He makes plans to attend a writing/journalism school in New York and inevitably has to deal with the varied reactions about his leaving home from his friends, relatives and girlfriend. Oh and I also set it sometime during the early 1990's. I guess it does seem promising so far. I would actually love to see some local theater group act it out once it is complete. I believe people need to see more original plays nowadays. There are too many big budget movies bombarding our senses on a daily basis.

 I will post a preview of my screenplay soon. Maybe in the next week. :-)

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Antiseptic

 All I have done today so far is post a lot more vital information on facebook pertaining to the Occupy Wall Street movement/protests/revolution. It has begun to spread like wild fire. There are even other countries beginning to show support for the movement. It is truly amazing and an awesome time to be living in. Future generations will be talking about this for some time to come and it will be in all the history books (digital or other form)! www.occupywallst.org

 Other than that, I have been writing/typing away and formulating some story ideas and new poem ideas. I very quickly decided to start writing another poetry e-book. It will be my forth and perhaps most interesting. So far it is titled Antiseptic Anarchism. The title came to me as I was reading Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. Somewhere in the intro he wrote something about how he believes the poet to be the antiseptic of the world. That really struck a chord with me and I got this image in my head of a very altruistic way of life. My poetry seems to be taking on a new form as of lately and I do hope that it continues down that path. :-)

Friday, September 23, 2011

THE SOFA THAT ATE EVERYONE FREE PREVIEW

Hello, all! Here is a FREE preview of my recently published short novel The Sofa That Ate Everyone. If you happen to like it feel free to share the link with everyone you know. And should you decide to purchase it please click on the appropriate BUY NOW button or ADD TO CART button. Thanks for looking and reading! :-)

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Old Favorites

 Here are some abstracts I painted during the winter of 2009. It was a pretty good creative season for me.





 
I have listed these and others in my Etsy shop: www.buddhkist.etsy.com


Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Momentous (Poetry Book Excerpt)

Momentous (Poetry Book Excerpt)

Here is an excerpt from my recent self-published poetry book titled Momentous. I will make it available for FREE download soon.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Written Word Devotion

I am ready to fully devote my life to writing and everything it entails. I want to stop playing in all these egotistical "bands" and start doing what I am truly meant to do. I just cannot bother any longer with pretending that I actually care about fame and/or fortune. That's never been my main motivator. Music is a part of me but it does not define me. Art is a part of me but it does not define me. But writing... well, it not only defines me but it is capable of defining and redefining everyone and everything.

I shall post my progress here and also on my new personal site: www.ryanandrewloera.weebly.com

Friday, September 16, 2011

Not On Our Agenda


  How can I begin to explain? The way we suffer. The way we blame each other for every stupid misdeed; rubbish. It is of no lasting consequence. Forgiveness is our birth-right. Morality is ingrained in us all; always has been. Do not believe what some wolf in sheep’s clothing spouts off to you. You have a mind of your own. Use it! Rely on it! Do not pay attention to those falsified facts. Pay absolutely no attention to any falsified facts.
  Let your own wisdom guide you and lead you to security. You have ignored it for far too long. And please do not confuse wisdom with knowledge. Knowledge can be useful but it can also be corrupted. Wisdom is considered useless by many but only because it is incorruptible. That which cannot be commercialized drives the corporations mad. They do like to believe in their own arrogant ideologies.
  Let them. Let them believe whatever the hell they want. If it is money that makes their existence enjoyable then let them enjoy their money. If it is power that provides them with superiority then let them bathe in it. If it is greed that nourishes their minds then let them consume it. Eventually they will abuse it. Eventually they will no longer find it amusing.
  At some point they must come to the same profound understanding that every single human being has. We are one. We are interconnected. There is no separation. No dividing lines or electrified fences. No watchdogs or border patrolling can hold any of us back from our universal fate. We all know this. We all embody this. And it is not part of some new age philosophy or positive thinking seminar. It is an eternal fact!
  If you choose to be cynical about the whole thing that is part of your journey. If you choose to be kept in the dark about everything that is part of your journey. If you choose to ridicule all things metaphysical that is also part of your journey. Everything we do and say and think is always part of the same journey which we are all embarking on. There can be no doubts or uncertainties. We can fool ourselves into believing in uncertainties if we so choose to but they ultimately have no permanence. All things are impermanent. All things are ever-changing. All things are ever-moving. Moving towards that one great point of unity!
  This is an undeniable fact! Sure, we could deny it just like we have been denying it since the dawn of our species but we are running out of excuses. We are running out of reasons for denying it. Even deniability is impermanent.
  There is no escape. There is no treatment. There is no book. There is no guru. There is no president. There is no government. There is no corporation. There is NOTHING that can keep us from our destined destination anymore! We’ve been held back long enough! There is so much more to this reality than what we’ve been taught. There is so much more meaning and purpose to our existence than what we’ve been fed.
  Do not become swayed by what you see on television or hear from others who are deeply entrenched in materialism. For they too will awaken to the same conclusion. They too will have no choice but to shed their old beliefs.
  We will all be united. Not so much physically united but mentally and spiritually united. We will reach the pinnacle of human potential. But not just because it is inevitable or because we’ve spent more than enough time wallowing in duality. It is our right, our privilege, our meticulously constructed path.
  We are destined for many great things. Extinction is not on our agenda.

Monday, September 12, 2011

My First Poetry Collection FREE Download

AuthorStand. ebook - Subtleties & Insecurities by Ryan Loera


My first collection of poems. I've been writing poetry since before I knew what poetry was. I believe a poem can be just as insightful as a good story or novel. Poetry can be found within the heart of every person.

FREE to download!

Read it, share it, print it out. It might be the first of many.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

9/11

  None of it made sense to me and it still doesn't. It happened way too easy and without very much interference from the government. They had way too much knowledge about it beforehand for them to say they were "unprepared." I didn't buy their explanation then and I don't buy it now.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Newly Listed In My Shop

Here are some newly listed pieces in my shop.








 These pieces and many others can be viewed and purchased in my online Etsy art shop. Click this link: http://www.etsy.com/shop/buddhkist

 Please view, purchase, share.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Rotation

Here is an original short story of mine. It is titled Rotation. Please read, comment, share, enjoy. Thank you.


  The earth rotates once more on its axis. The darkened side becomes the sunny side and the sunny side becomes the darkened side. All the while, people are either getting ready for another hum drum day or going to sleep in order to be rested for another hum drum day.
  My day used to be this way but today is different. Today I’ve decided to take a walk. I wake up when my alarm goes off at 8:30 am. I have my usual breakfast of waffles and two sausage links. That’s right, two links. I change into some suitable walking attire. A faded blue t-shirt, black sweat pants and my favorite pair of green converse. 
  After a quick stretching of my joints I walk out the front door and into the luminous morning glow. I look up at the sky and try to breathe in its vibrant blue. I notice a bird fly overhead, looks like it has lagged behind the rest of the formation. I set off on foot down the end of my street. When I get there I turn right and continue in a straight line for two miles or so. I fix my gaze on a palm tree up ahead. Its bark looks rather dry and cracked, like it hasn’t been watered for a while.
  When I reach the palm tree I take a moment to choose a new path. A big, yellow school bus passes by and emits some strong fumes from its exhaust. I plug my nose but I still choke and gag for a second or two. I finally decide to cut through a vacant lot in order to get onto a decent walking path.
  The lot is as vacant as you’d expect a vacant lot to be. I remember when I was about six years old and I first heard the word vacant I thought it was the same thing as bacon. But in this vacant lot there is no bacon. There isn’t even a stove on which to cook bacon. But there is a concrete foundation and a half finished house frame. I try to imagine what the house will look like once it is completed. I hope it doesn’t end up looking like most houses. But it probably will. I try to imagine what kind of family will inhabit the house. I hope they don’t end up being like most families. But they probably will.
  I quickly wave good-bye to the vacant lot with no bacon and continue walking down a newly cemented sidewalk. After another two miles, I come upon a marching line of red ants. Some of which I accidentally step on and some I try my best to avoid stepping on. I like to think that they are grateful every time someone purposefully avoids stepping on them. I know I’m grateful every time someone avoids stepping on me.
  I try to follow their militant pattern but they are far more devoted to it than I am. I suppose that’s a good thing. A couple of them are carrying what looks like bread crumbs on their backs. Some of the bread crumbs are at least five times bigger than they are. But somehow they manage to carry them all the way to their nest or hive or colony. I think ants live in colonies. Much more structured colonies than us.
  I wave good-bye to the militant ants and hop over some discarded beer bottles. Two have been smashed and four are still intact but empty. They almost look like shiny, gold chalices. But it is the sunlight that is successfully pulling off that illusion. The labels on all of them have been stripped and scraped off. I wonder why someone would scrape a label off a beer bottle. Maybe they weren’t supposed to be drinking. Maybe they were drinking on the sidewalk because they weren’t allowed to drink in their own home. Whatever their reason was they could have at least disposed of them properly. I pick up one of the empty bottles and toss it high up in the air. It lands and smashes six feet in front of me. I can hear a dog barking in the distance.
  My eyes scan the area for some kind of bag to collect the remaining bottles in. I spot a dusty garbage bag stuck to some weeds. It’s pretty big and only has one small tear in it. The only other garbage in it is some torn up fliers for a new techno club. I doubt we need another monotonous techno club taking up valuable space in order to charge twelve bucks for a margarita. One by one I place the three scraped beer bottles in the garbage bag. I tie the top as best as I can and drag it along with me.
  I try to wave good-bye to the broken shards of beer bottles but it just seems a little sad. They continue glistening in the sunlight and I continue walking. As I walk past a stray cat I begin to contemplate what to do with the beer bottles. I could bury them. But a dog or little kid might dig them up and start playing with them. I could just chuck them into a dumpster. But I really would like to find some better use for them. I could recycle them. But that’s practically the same thing as burying them. Or is it?
  While my mind is preoccupied I come upon a busy intersection. Traffic had come to a halt due to the fact that a motorcyclist had slammed into a traffic light. The motorcyclist and his motorcycle didn’t look badly injured. The motorcycle had a few small scrapes. The motorcyclist was shouting at the other motorists for not helping him move his motorcycle sooner.
  An elderly gentleman who was waiting at the bus stop walks up to me and says, “You missed a great show here!” He laughs and coughs and laughs and coughs.
  I wait for the cross walk light to blink on and I cross to the other side as smooth as butter. That’s right. Butter. Who doesn’t like butter? I dare you to say you don’t like butter! The only thing that can compete with butter is bacon. Yes, bacon. Perhaps I’ll start up my own bacon factory and call it Vacant Bacon. Sounds like a good idea.
  The three beer bottles in the garbage bag make a clinking sound with every step I take. It reminds me of a metronome. Every time I hear the word metronome I instantly picture a gnome on a subway train. Short people have a need for transportation too. If gnomes exist then why wouldn’t they use public transportation? It’s just common sense.
  Two joggers jog ahead of me. They are panting and perspiring a lot. One of them is a young woman and the other a young man. They both smile at each other as they jog. They seem pretty fit and full of energy. But they will never know the same kind of joy that I know.
  I approach another intersection but this one is less crowded with vehicles. But not because it isn’t heavily trafficked. It is less crowded because each car is whizzing by at a speed that is unrecognizable to me. I push the button for the crosswalk light. I wait a few seconds. Nothing happens. I push the button for the crosswalk light again. I wait a few more seconds. Nothing happens. I debate with myself on whether I should risk crossing or not. I am unable to come to an agreement with myself.
  Then I get an idea. I untie the garbage bag, reach in and pull out one of the torn fliers for the new overrated techno club. I crinkle it up into a tightly packed ball and place it gently in the street. When I see the next car approaching at a speed that is unrecognizable to me I make sure to pay close attention. The next car whizzes by and I watch as the balled up techno flier rolls away at a speed that is unrecognizable to me.
  I decide not to cross. I re-tie the garbage bag and sling it over my shoulder. I then turn around and walk in the opposite direction. After walking a good four miles, I come upon a street vendor. He is selling a variety of snacks and beverages. I flag him down and examine his selection. He does not know much English but he is able to recommend a bacon wrapped hotdog with mustard and relish. I call him a genius and pat him on the back. I also select a Diet Pepsi to wash down his magnificent masterpiece. I give him a five dollar bill and tell him to keep the change. He then tells me I’m fifty cents short. I offer him one of the empty beer bottles instead and he reluctantly accepts it. He wishes it wasn’t empty but knows that he can get a few cents by recycling it.
  I wave good-bye to the bacon-wrapped hotdog genius and walk on. The harsh sun begins to take its toll on me after another three miles. Where am I going? I ask myself out loud. I pass a couple of shops and restaurants and stop walking as soon as I see a lovely plant-filled park. I drop the garbage bag on the moist grass and plop down under a shady tree. I’m not sure what kind of tree it is. Maybe some kind of oak or maple.
  A group of skateboarders are attempting a series of complicated maneuvers on the green painted tennis court. Two little girls are fighting over the “good swing” and two teenage lovers are caressing each other on a grassy knoll. This is what life should be like every day. I lean back against the shady tree and rest my eyes for a spell.
  I am awakened some minutes later by a loud scream. I stand up and look around for the source of the scream. Apparently one of the little girls punched the other one in the nose and they were now locked in a death grip of sorts. They start rolling around in the sand and shouting incoherent phrases at each other. Finally, their mothers run to them and pull them apart.
  I glance over at the two teenage lovers on the grassy knoll. I walk over to them and hand them one of the torn up techno fliers. Apparently the monotonous techno club allows the under twenty-one crowd in once a week. They both look ecstatic when I hand them the torn flier. The teenage girl looks up at me and says, “Thanks! We’ve been wanting to go to something like this for a while!” The teenage boy half smiles.
  I then walk over to the group of skateboarders on the green painted tennis court. I watch them try to pull off some flashy tricks and jumps. “I wish we had something to jump over besides this lame tennis net.” One of the skateboarders says. I then reply with, “Would you like to jump over some beer bottles?” All the skateboarders stare at me in a confused manner. I take out the two remaining empty beer bottles and place them in the center of the green painted tennis court.
  “If you can jump over these bottles I’ll give you whatever is left in this garbage bag.” I say to the skateboarders. They still have a confused look on their faces but they are also intrigued by what the garbage bag may or may not be carrying. We shake hands to seal our deal and they all line up like militant ants.
  One by one they jump over the empty beer bottles with their skateboards. Some of them fall but they all jump clear over the bottles. I congratulate them then hand them the garbage bag. As they all peer into it I wave good-bye and continue walking.
  I walk for another mile and a half then decide to sit down on one of the bus stop benches. I still have no idea where I am going but I am glad I have no idea where I am going. I kneel down to re-tie my right green converse. “Are you taking the bus too?” I look up and am greeted with a beautiful face that belongs to a beautiful girl. “I might take the bus but I’m not sure.” I reply. “Oh. I’m taking the bus to school today. It’s my first year in college.” She sits down next to me and fiddles with a textbook. Her perfume smells like a bouquet of roses. “Your first year of college? That sounds exciting.” I respond. “Yeah. I guess.” She looks at me and smiles.
  Her blonde hair hangs down in curls just above her shoulders. She is wearing a light blue long-sleeved blouse and tight fitting blue jeans. It appears she has written something on her pink sneakers. “What is that you have written on your sneakers?” I ask her. “This? Oh it’s just the bus schedule. I wrote it on my sneakers in permanent marker so I wouldn’t forget which buses go where. I’m no good at keeping a paper schedule.” She blushes a little. “Oh I see. That is quite ingenious. You wouldn’t happen to like bacon… do you?”
  She stares at me in a confused manner but then quickly smiles and laughs. “I love it! The only thing that can compete with bacon is butter!”
  My heart starts beating a thousand miles per second. I gradually slide closer to her on the bench. “You are fascinating. Please tell me your name.”
  “Cindy. My name is Cindy. Cindy Simon. Well, my full name is Cinnamon Sable Simon but I prefer just Cindy.” She blushes a little more.
  “It is a great honor to meet you, Cinnamon. I mean Cindy. My name is Van. Well, my full name is Van Confucius Schwartz.” I extend my hand to hers, she pauses and then slowly grips and shakes.
  “It’s an honor to meet you too, Van. My bus is approaching so I’m afraid we have to cut our conversation short. Unless you’ve decided to take the bus after all?” Her eyes display a large amount of passion.
  “Maybe I will.” The bus comes to a strong halt as she tries to coax me on.
  “Oh and I happen to have brought some bacon with me to snack on.” She whips out a plastic baggie stuffed with bacon.
  “Okay, we shall ride the bus!” We both laugh out loud as we hop onto the bus.
  All this happened while the earth rotated on its axis once more. And the sunny side became the darkened side and the darkened side became the sunny side.
  This is what life can be. This is what life should be.