I would like to wish my friends, family, blogger tribe, and Facebook peeps a glorious day filled with laughter and joy. 💝 I am always thinking of you, still sending those good vibrations, and always wishing for you days better than the day before. This time of year can be hard on people. Instead of joyous, it is often a sad, lonely, stressful time for many. Remember, you are not alone. We are all one. We are all the same. We all feel the same pain, anger, stress, and love as the folks on your friend’s list, the old lady across the street, your bff, that homeless guy, and the nasty relative who ruins Christmas dinner every year. Don’t forget that. 💗✌🎄🎀🎁
Wishing you all a beautiful Merry Christmas, 🎀 Happy Holidays, and a prosperous New Year. 🎀 I have this huge present for you, 🎁 and another one for you 🎁, and another for you. All are wrapped in 💝 and tied with a 🎀. ♥ under the 🎄 and 🎶 in your soul. 😘 💖 🎉🎉🎉
Love, Jazzi 💖
I mean, we knew he was a strong, self-contained fellow. Always seemed to have his shit together. You know what I mean? Didn’t need anyone glancing his way. He was always thinking outside the box. But nowadays you couldn’t tell if he was anywhere near the box, alive or dead, here or there. If you even looked at him sideways, he would just split, man. He was all over the place and back, in an instant! I shit you not! You might not even know he was back in the hood until you looked away.
We called him Schroedinger, Roady for short. Never knew what path the dude was gonna take, or where you’d end up. He was dynamic and unpredictable, but we loved hanging out with Roady, –when he wasn’t warping the space-time continuum. Dug how he took the fucking box and threw it in the fire.
If you were able to catch a rare glance of Roady when he split the infinitive, and warped the laws of physics, –you would see he was beyond that quantum process bullshit. Bro had mad skills. Could be just like the rest of us, –not knowing which way to go until somebody notices you’re struggling.
Still. He was focused on the imaginary box, and how to use that to shred the concept of duality. There was no symmetry, no wave, no particle, no Faraday cage. It was all an illusion. It was whatever you wanted it to be! That’s what we thought he meant anyhow. Yeah, he was one intuitive fellow, that Roady.
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
When you discover an eclectic, complex, highly intelligent mind, you simply have to feed it. You will feed yourself as you satiate this need. Present the grapes, truffles, and mead of creativity to this hungry mind. Feed the place where words are always present, but so rarely needed.
Allow this multi-faceted visionary to rest on silken pillows while you balance a golden tray of ideas, dreams, and physimotional eruptions. Wait while this intellect gazes at the joker then decide what flavor it most desires. Maybe it wants sweet honey. Maybe it wants salt and pepper. Perhaps it would prefer earthy, smoky, dirty flavors.
Stand back and watch as silver streams of energy and art radiate from this glowing soul. Taste that intuition!! Smooth, rich and mixed to get you high. Shaken stirred and poured. Ahh, delicious perfection in a richly flavored gilded sensation!
You are sated now. You have found a vibrant, kindred mind as strange and beautiful as your own. Never let it get hungry, never let it starve for understanding, never let it die.
Go. 🔀 It’s time to dine.
~ © Jazzi Ryan Ranes ~
…And why do some air fresheners smell so good in the store and then smell like ass when you spray them around your home? Truth in advertising should be a law. They shouldn’t be allowed to sell a product that smells worse than the chili-boiled egg-beer fart you chased your homies out of the room with during Sunday’s game.
The air “freshener” I tried today.. and I won’t name names, but they have an air freshener called crisp waters, and they really should have named it dirty toilet water, ass de’aroma or bracing sewage gas. It was fucking terrible! I thought the septic tank had backed up. Seriously. Now, I hate to throw out a whole can of pressurized turdscents. I prefer these cans of crap that are under pressure to be empty before I toss them in the garbage. So, I’m gonna let the evil, crisp brown waters sit on my shelf until I get the courage to take it outside and spray it away.
🔥 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~
Here’s an insight into how my mind works. A secret, if you will.
I know about ten different male internet techs by their first names. Seriously. That’s how bad the internet is where I live.
Had my life circumstances been different, had the timing been just right, I would have taken down the dirty white boy from southern West Virginia despite the sweltering July heat. He was hot-blooded and putting off all the right vibes…
But I would have cooked him a meal had that been what he’d rather have wanted. Gave him a back rub while he napped in front of the fan, and washed his filthy jeans while he took a shower.
~© Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
How Are Ya’ Fixed For Love- Frank Sinatra (with Keely Smith)
You’re fixed for the ❄❄❄s, you have more than you need,
get your coat on baby, the cold 🌀🌀🌀s blow.
You’re fixed for the weather,
you can do a good deed, friends around the 🔥🔥🔥 you should all now gather.
Get your hats and your gloves, take what I say to 💖 and to heed, but baby, ❄❄❄ baby, how are ya fixed for 💏💕?
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~
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~