• Travis Ryan

Born Parallel


I’m the type of twisted gentleman that will sit there and listen to people talk about me in Spanish and smile while I quietly file the information away in English, no ulterior motive I just don’t like calling people out on there bullshit, call it golden rule influenced, call it whatever, I wont talk bad about your diction.

People have been asking me why I get up at 5am every morning. The truth of the matter is this, I can still literally hear a steel door exploding open every single day at exactly 5am, and conversely, my dreams suck. One can only spend so many consecutive hours getting attacked by dogs, watching car crashes filled with family members in brutal slow motion, and screaming silently for the other side to stop shooting bullets at you with Complete inability to fire back. I’m grateful for the institutional damage done to me by incarceration, because even though I’m not always an “up and at em” style morning person, I am always relieved when I hear the clank.


My biggest fear in life is to be in a coma, where whatever extra dimensional forces have time untethered access to my astral being, days, weeks, months, of being able to tear into my psyche is a fate that I consider 100% worse than death. Of course, what do I know about life or death anyway? I’m just trying to drift in the riptide and hope that the bigger picture doesn’t maul the enjoyment out of things.


I’ve been thinking about reincarnation a lot recently, based on a couple strange factors. I absolutely could not stand writing at all the whole time that I was in school. Because of that, I never paid attention to anything anyone ever told me about said process and the correct way to do it. I just know how instinctively, and after people got off my fucking neck and stopped trying to force me, writing became the closest thing I have to a best friend.

The second strange factor is this, it doesn’t matter if I’m texting, typing or writing with a golf pencil on county jail stationary, I can literally see the hammer of a type writer laying down each individual letter onto the page in a text that I don’t recognize as my own handwriting. I’ve never written anything on a type-writer but there is something built innately into my mind that knows and remembers the process extremely well, these are not my own memories, so they have to come from someone or somewhere.


No one teaches a gazelle how to run or hide from lions in the grass, they just inherit built in memories of why the alternative is fatal. Instinct doesn’t give the phenomenon the credit it deserves. And let me clear this up before it even crosses through your mind. I’m east coast to the bone, and I’m just as likely to throw a rock at anyone wearing patchouli oil in lew of bathing, and rip the man bun off a vegan accusing me of “eating murder”, as the next sane person. But the concept of reincarnation is the only concept that makes any sort of sense when struggling for the words to describe why I’m a walking literary stereotype, writer, drunk, criminal, lady-killer, thriving in contradiction who wont even be recognized until way after he’s dead.

NO-ONE taught me anything like this its woven into my DNA like good beard genetics, and a shockingly average penis size.


I would also like to clear something up. Every single time I’ve fucked up or got in some type of trouble, it has exposed some type of extremely broken system that not only needs immediate attention and reform but it needs an event to spark both of those. That event is yours truly. I’m not going to take credit for this because most of the time I don’t consciously have anything to do with it, I just get wasted and wake up in the middle of a disaster, that (once sober) I end up exposing in a calm enough way that people can start the journey of acceptance and reform. I don’t want anything to do with this process, but the universe wants me smack dab in ground zero. See Buncombe county sheriff’s department abuse allegations, see Denver county sheriffs department medical malpractice, see new laws regulating sober livings because of insurance fraud, see the upcoming revolution (we’ll both have to watch how that plays out together).


I’m not saying that I have much to do with exposing any of this shit because really I’d rather just bury my head and pretend it never happened, just as Id much rather use the keyboard as a tool for self-flagellation than a writing implement. I just have been born with the skills where I have to do both or else I end up having to repeat the excruciating process over and over, I’m real time reincarnation. If I don’t harness this talent/curse that doesn’t belong to my mind but is there anyway, it turns around and burns me down over and over until I decide to just do it.


I cant Love and let people go. I Love forever. I let people go before I start the process of falling in Love with them because I cant hold them to societal standards and still remain fully engulphed in their true energy at the same time. So I excuse them from those pesky social expectations, basic human courtesies, boundaries, pressure, and then begin to Love them completely. I literally mean that I still Love every single close friend and significant other that I’ve ever had the pleasure and agony of having or making Love with. It will be like that forever, unconditionally, It doesn’t matter what shit they do inside of society’s rule book because I’ve already excused them of those regulations. They could break in my house tonight, stick a knife in my chest and I would still feel a gratitude for dying next to someone who I truly know and Love.


Therapists would call this pedestalizing, or something More clinical, but really its just the way things are set up in this crowded dystopia. You cant treat everyone truly like a human being. There are so many people, that we have to treat 90% of them as background noise and generic scenery. We only have limited sensory processing skills, So once you release another person from that mold they are not “better” than anyone or put on a pedestal, they are just a human being that you know as a human being, instead of a cardboard cutout, mobbing past you on the street that your mind is forced to assume is the same as all the others.


The process of pedestalizing is not practiced by raising ones social status in one higher than your own, but rather by constantly downgrading yourself and everyone around you for the sake of feeling “normal”. Every time someone slips through this synthetic filter and you get to be real human beings together, you can never forget how its supposed to feel again. No one taught me how its supposed to be, its innate in a way more complex than “instinct”, I believe firmly that if we don’t learn the fucking lesson you will be forced into it over and over and over until you just except that consciously it may not be what you anyone wants but its where we belong.

Consciousness can be a little overrated when its manufactured and handed out in portions by someone who wants to own us.

Melt away open your sails and good luck to all of you shipwrecked sailors clinging to flotsam junk, you will, without trying, or control, land on the exact island you are supposed to be on.


Love Eternal,


“criminal”” psychotic”” sexual maverick”” writer”


Travis Ryan

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