There all these things, these possessions, these artifacts of a life…and I realize there is no one thing here, no object, no collection, no antique, no inanimate piece of wood, metal, glass or cloth, that means more to me than your love. I drip a thousand tears on these meaningless things and yearn for the things that live outside of space and time. The things that are real and sure…unlike these temporary things I own.
These unnecessary pretties are just so much junk invading my heart. Cluttering up my house, my mind, my life. When I go from here I will sell these worthless things made of this and that, turn loose of the stuff that suffocates my soul. Take the money and travel with a knapsack, paper and pen, to find you…to find you wherever you are.
What I need is not made of stone, porcelain, marble or plastic. What I need is the things money can’t buy, the things only the soul can see. The things of love and devotion and hot sunset passions. There are all these damn things and they crowd my mind, my body, my life.
I will get rid of these unnecessary possessions and use the money to find the necessary things my heart so desires. I will find this love and I will make it mine, will hold it and treasure it in this full heart of mine.
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
Intelligence is not an option, its a requirement.
“Intelligence without ambition is like a bird without wings”
Fortunately for me, ambition embodies intellect and flies like an eagle…
Actually, its more like a pterosaur taking flight for the first time ever, and realizing she can create.
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
Just a thought here, kind of out of the blue. But it will give you some insight into some things about me. So if I go off and write some stream of consciousness thing at you, know yer getting a look inside my psyche whatever the subject may be.
Why the aka? Why fly incognito wearin’ the shades? Concealing my given name and my present physical reality? Why open this battered door anyway? Who gives a damn, right? Well here’s this. Because I am Jazzi but Jazzi is not me. Makes no immediate sense right? It will in a little bit maybe. Hell, maybe you already starting to get my vibe. We’ll see…
I project this persona, this alternate or twin soul, twin flame, wtf ever, who lives inside me because I have to just a little while or a lot. At least until these fractured pieces of me stop standing beside each other and finally integrate. Assimilate. Become one and become whole.
Besides that my writing is going to creep around in some strange, dark corners every once in a while and I need to think of other people in my life and any afterburner trails I may leave behind. I don’t hold with most of the hammered in beliefs that the pack usually follow and I don’t want to scorch their personal beliefs or hurt anyone’s feelings.
The sometimes searing, rarified air of taboo meanderings that may potentially erupt, the side of me who thinks they’re a little comedic but really comes off just a little far over the edge to be funny. These things need not enter their airspace or their aura unless they want it to and think they can breathe.
You need not be here. Future writings will tell that story better. I’m not here for the dollars although the dollars would be nice. I love you all, already, you damn heathens you. You got Soul Baes…you got Love.
Smooth, soulful soft instrumental jazz, preferably performed with saxophone and or guitar, has been my sensual go to music for almost thirty years. I started out as a child loving Chet Atkins and The Ventures. Both instrumental guitar performers. Yakety Sax was a favored tune. I evolved into the likes of Yanni and David Arkenstone and continued to explore. I played a little guitar and keyboard myself. I named a dog with one blue eye and one brown, Jazzy. Jazzi is the woman of passion, heat, fiery seduction, waterfalls, serene mountain lakes and unusual thought processes. A black cat owns her, she is Taurus, and she has deep dreams. She reaches out her palms in supplication even knowing she will be cut. She bleeds hot tears and ink, but she cleans up after herself.
Now Ryan, well he is my reincarnated male soul, or perhaps my baser id…the dark side, the dirty injun boy…the side that will tie you up. He has hard techno, bass beat, dance and synth blaring in his headphones and it will be primarily instrumental as well. Ryan wants everything, right now and will take it if you don’t give it. He will lay you down in the dirt if that’s where you happen to flip his switch. He is the little girl who hated to play with dolls, wouldn’t wear dresses, played with Tonka toys in the dirt and fought in grade school. Mom hated that I read MAD magazine and I hated that I thought it was cool. I loved Stephen King, Clive Barker, and Dean Koontz, while they read Judy Blume, Shel Silverstein, and Teen Beat. The nightmares, the fantasies, the man I always wished I could find. He leaves a mess wherever he goes.
Ranes? So much going on there I don’t know if I can even explain. Rayne is all of it, everything, every last atom of my being. My spirit, my soul, my quantum entanglement. Rayne embodies all fractured facets of my personality and allows me to speak my voice finally. Sometimes she dances naked in the rain while lightning and thunder crash down. Sometimes he is soft rain on a tin roof taking you for the very first time. She will remain loyal to you despite how badly you treat her. He will go off and fuck somebody else just to spite you. She likes sunsets, and he likes sunrises. Rayne will listen to any kind of music if it touches the soul. She loves to read and write and swim in rivers, lakes, and streams. He enjoys long walks in the forest, mountain vistas and home cooked meals. Rayne is complicated, and you never know what she/he is thinking.
So there you have it. Or some of it anyway. These meanderings don’t really cover it, and there is so much more I could never express. That’s why I write words. I find that I can write with confidence from either a female or male point of view. Words are the only way these personality aspects can interact. They seem to be the only things that even come close.
Sorry, not sorry I just dripped ink, tears, blood, and cum on your chest. It should come off with a little cold water and some scrubbing.
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
That’s what he did alright. He pulled so far away I was able to get on with my life. Gave me strength, that chill did.
But then he popped back into my existence, and the walls started to collapse. Read every fucked up feeling I had, that mind did.
Uncontrolled the tears streamed down my face, and I thought, damn you that’s not fair, taking me without permission as you did.
but that’s what he does
I can’t do that to you, take your soul down bare and steal your secrets. But that’s what you did.
~© Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
…Gotham, dude. I watched all of Gotham and Alfred was my favorite. Wise was he. I like watching Steven Segal, David Carradine, Jack Nicholson, Jim Caviezel, Charles Bronson…you get the idea…do you remember Glenn Ford, thirties forties western actor/director…and James Arness (Matt Dillon). Real men on screen and off.
From the time I was a new teenager, I’ve admired and crushed on older men. I was mooning over Loren Greene, Lee Majors and Tom Selleck and wanted a piece of Chuck Norris. Waylon Jennings sang songs for me. If you were a hot silver fox, I was lookin’ at you.
The other girls my age were breathless over some 15-year-old girly looking boy that still had no hair on his ass. I didn’t get it. They were cute but puppies are cute. They were NOT handsome. Had no experience, no intelligence and no sex appeal.
These older real men had something deeper than looks and superb acting skills. They were rough around the edges, scarred and hardened from life and living. Passionate and sexy in a way that only comes with years lived and loved.
To this day I don’t like some of the younger smart ass know-it-alls I see on tv. I don’t watch any more tv than I have to anyway, so I choose carefully, lol.
When watching some actors or actresses I see men and women by their real names not their character names so much.
If I was an actress I would like to look like Stana Katic and Daniela Ruah and act like a Jack Nicholson / Jonathan Frakes / Jean-Claude Van Damme/Dr. Ruth/Elvira half breed. Weird huh? Don’t call the folks in white coats, you know you’re weird too.
Sudden insight here. Tells me something about myself that I like guys who can handle their weapons and ones who are skilled at hand to hand combat and Mental Awareness, even more. There is fearless and then there is stupid. You can find my post on that here.
~It is a fearless stance brought to reality from a life…lived.~
~You give me a little hidden hard-on.~
~I feel like I should spank myself for liking you as much as I do.~
~Do men hear you when you speak? Not your average vanilla coated guys, anyway. Some do listen but they don’t sling hearts ‘n flowers at you, and they taste of things stronger than sugar and rainbows.~
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
I didn’t sleep well last night and woke at 12:30 am. My legs ached and my mind wouldn’t stop. When I did sleep I drempt I was in an unfamiliar house trying to sleep while strangers spoke at me and I had broken my phone in two and wondered if I had enough money to get another one. I was freaking out a little in that dream and was glad when my legs woke me up again.
I know what that dream was about. It was about the next book creeping around in my psyche. It all means something. I listen to my own heart as if it were a guru on a mount. I learned in this writing process that no thought is worthless and sometimes you just have to water them, wait, and see what sprouts.
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
I finished writing Chapter 45 last night. One more chapter to go in this book. Book 2 is already trying to horn it’s way in on my concentration. But I’ll just take notes as my baes speak to my heart. Plenty of time for the second book. I actually gave up for the evening when my autocorrect started acting silly. Sometimes I’ll get to typing so fast it will just give me a string of ??? marks or random letters. But this evening, it was out to get me.
Time to consummate the vows.
Time to consolidate the cows.
I just can’t compete with that.
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
This truly is a random chunk of brain matter and I apologize ahead of time. But I just gotta know because it seems so weird to me…
Tell me something you guys. Is there a gene that comes into play, that allows normally logical, sane people to put ketchup on everything? Sure I like ketchup. On burgers, hotdogs and fries…
Not on eggs, fried potatoes, green beans, navy beans, lima beans -n- ham. Not on macaroni and cheese (omg people really? macnchez is a food group). Ketchup sandwiches. Is there something I’m missing? Not inside a grilled cheese sandwich and why are you dipping those chicken fingers in there? You can’t expect me to believe you’re not a little nuts, if I catch you putting ketchup on a tomato sandwich or a squirt on your fried green tomatoes.
I know you guys probably don’t do that to all of your food but I’ve met a couple folks and I tell you. They went through bottles of ketchup like most do rolls of toilet paper. However, they will probably live a longer, healthier life on account of the high lycopene content in tomatoes.
And while I’m on this subject, because I promise you, I won’t revisit this sidecar again…
Is this the same unidentified gene (or maybe it is known, I’ll have to look), that is responsible for a desire to have everything taste like bacon, pumpkins and honey?
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
Have you seen the names they’re giving marijuana nowadays? People name weed strains like they name racehorses. Fabulous poetic words that help to make the horse stand out amongst the others. And nine times out of ten, the name has nothing to do with the animal at all.
As the miracle plant takes hold and gains legality across our planet, branding has become all important. You want your tag to blow smoke in your customers face. You want the pot description to sound like what it does and give them a contact high. Get folks to buy Your shit, man.
*So with that temporarily in mind, here are some names my friend and I came up with while messaging our unusual, stream of consciousness thoughts back and forth one early morning. I can’t say if any of these are already out there. If they are, I don’t mean to bogart your greens. If not, they should be. And now I present, in no particular order of bleary-eyed importance…
~112 weed strains that haven’t been grown yet.~
1. I See Pizzas
2. Four Eyes
3. Cooked Pasta
5. Brain Food
6. Did I Just Eat That
7. Glass Eyes
8. Three Days Later
9. Apocalypse Now
10. The Pizza Made Me Do It
11. Stupid Grin
12. Cookie Monster
13. Nine Lives
15. Haunted Haze
16. Good N Plenty
17. Goodie Two Shoes
18. Mary’s Lost Baggie
19. Mary Jane’s Happy Dance
20. Mary Jane’s Cupboard
21. Mother Nature
22. Pass The Chips
23. Stale Potato Chips
24. The Dog Ate My Stash
25. Couch Lock
26. High Way
28. Grandpa’s Cane
30. The Game Of Stones
32. Flower Child
33. High Sight Is 20/20
34. Double Vision
35. I Can’t Find My Face
36. I Can’t Feel My Ass
37. Lazy Boy
38. Floating Weeds
39. Short-Term Memory Loss
40. Baked Beans
41. Ghost Candy
42. This Bowls For You
43. My Joints Are Stiff
45. Windows 3000
46. Caroline’s Window Box
47. Lawn Grass
48. Bogart’s Revenge
49. Silly Putty
50. Fried Brain Sandwiches
51. Don’t Eat The Koolaid
52. Winter Frost
53. Garden Weeds
54. Fantasy Island
55. Pinned To The Wall
56. Floppy French Fries
57. Vacation Days
58. Dry Mouth
60. Best Buds
61. Wilted Flowers
62. The Hills Have Highs
63. Greener Pastures
64. Mount Rush More
65. Rainbow Smoke
66. You Are Here
67. Lazy 420
68. Space Trees
69. Healthy Greens
70. Too Stoned To Text
71. X-Ray Vision
72. Heavy Eyelids
73. Are We There Yet
74. Red Eyed Beast
75. The Blunt Truth
76. Autumn Leaves
77. Stonewall Jackson
78. Harvey Wallbanger
79. Cream Puffs
80. Red Sunset
81. Blank TV Screen
83. Green Pieces
84. Contact High
85. Buzz Bunny
86. Comic Relief
87. Where The Fuck Am I
88. Time Traveler
89. Wild Fire
90. *Buzzy Bee*
91. Too High To Blink
92. Catnip Acres
93. Black Panther Kitties
94. Pot Of Gold
95. Cross-Eyed Pink Dragons
96. Puffy McPufferson
98. Fishing For Kitties
99. *T. H. Seas*
100. Party Plants
101. Three Days In The Joint
102. Laughing Grass
103. Afraid To Go To The Mailbox
104. Where Did I Put The Remote
105. Is This Sandwich Still Good
106. Spooky Action At A Distance
107. I Forgot What I Was Going To Say
108. Rolled Too Tight
109. Buzz Buddies
110. Happy Trees
111. Dome Baggie
112. All Fucked Up & No Place To Go
*A couple of those might be better suited to edibles…
Make of that what you will, but hey man… Name the stuff and let the stoners figure out what it means. A week later.
*Don’t steal our shit, man. We don’t have a stash.
~…a long time coming so don’t harsh the buzz.~
~…a little bit of experience and a whole lot of burning imagination.~
*All material copy written in a cloud of smoke.
*Original comedy routine, based on this random foggy brain matter, coming soon to a blank computer screen near you. Stay untuned for a YouTube video early 3019…er 2019. Whatever.
© Jazzi Ryan Ranes 2018
© Joe Jones 2018
© Joe In The Dark (the teddy bear with teeth) 2018
© T. H. Seas 2018
© Buzzy Bee Productions 2018
~All rights reserved.~
You: I’m not someone you should put on speakerphone.
Me: I’m not someone you should put on the phone at all.
🔥 If you want to follow me on social media, you can go to facespace here,
And if you wanna be a tweep, here,
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~