Sunday, May 18, 2008

The Me, The Old

Nothing exciting, just last week I was reading my The Me section of my MySpace profile and realised that, one, the content had been there for somewhere between one and two years and, two, that because of that I had basically deleted and added so many different things into it that it seemed to me like I had made one big mess of what I was trying to say in that section. So, today I am just archiving the old because it may still mean something to someone, and on my profile now is a fresh, clearer piece of writing. Old:

Ryan William James Quinn
Remember The Name.

Remember that
Just because I can say hey, how's it going?
Does not mean that I can't articulate fuck off as well.

Remember that
Anything that I say or do will last a lifetime.

Essentially, I adore each and every aspect of my world; my buddies and my family make life worth living; music keeps me listening; my computer keeps me occupied; and chocolate makes me money.

My buddies are my fuel for living. I live for the days I make them smile, or the days I sight a twinkle in their eye, but the unfortunate thing about that fact is, I am the type of guy that has been fucked by most of the people he once treated like gold. Point is, even though it may take years for them to break the act and reveal, you find out who betrays and the rarity of the ones who prevail the risks and remain one hundred percent at your side.

I often think of sacrificial riddles that can only be resolved by experience and moment, not truth and thought. Ask yourself this, would you rather be lying in hospital besieged by friends that truly love you or the healthiest person alive with none?

I think that public transport is a way to ruin a Friday afternoon.
Heavy-Metal music is a method to gradually depress your sensation, yet enlighten your mind to loud tunes.
Gangster-Rap music is an approach to flatter the realisation that males are only after one thing.
Real Rap allows you to be faced with a fast paced diary of feelings which are converted into rhyme.

Sometimes I find myself in days where I am a ticking time-bomb; authority figures on my back and deadlines fast approaching. Muscles tense, fists tighten and there is no where to run but violence at the breathe of an insult. At the end of these days I used to throw punches, now I throw words down on a page.

These days, lingo is thrown around like balls in a ball park. Here's a brief low-down: you will never here me use words like biatch, eshayz, gabba, hardcore; Rarely will I say I miss you or that I love you at the end of a conversation, to be said it needs to be true no matter how close we maybe; and wenis, I may not have been the first person to create it but I was the first person to find it in a slang dictionary and spread it and now everyone uses it, remember who introduced, alright? All I am trying to say is that just because it rains doesn't mean you have to catch every drop, saying something that doesn't make any sense doesn't particularly mean you are 'cool', just makes you and anyone else using it look like an idiot.

Know this
If you drive me, I will boil.

If you want me to join you, I disdain.

If I wanted to play games with you, I would buy an Xbox.

The word 'hate' needs passion to hold any type of meaning and foundation. If you hate someone because they are there or because they knocked you in a busy corridor a few years back, you do not hate them, you're just a dick, and for hating-dicks like that, I am a loading dock; don't go down that path with me.

I worship the idea that every human is designed to be loved and hates to be hated.

I write rap songs but I should not be considered a rapper; I am merely a young song-writer that has a set style, a vague ambition and random shocks of inspiration.

End of Exam.

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