http://www.writerq.com/mobile/DevlinRyder/ Latest updates from Devlin Ryder http://www.writerq.com/mobile/library/853/no-cause-for-paranoia/ But anyway, due to an incident last week -- I should call it the Final Straw -- I've given up dog-walking and going for walks altogether. For I barely escaped the police! That's right, the park police! Two of them chased me through the woods for a short distance before I slyly disappeared into a sewer. Luckily I had traversed those sewers a million times when I was a kid and knew their blueprints, so to speak. Within minutes I was able to make my way through the trickling echoes and darkness back to an opening in the creek near my house. I ran into my garage and waited there panting for a long time wondering what time it was, wondering how long it would be before my wife got home from work.
Eventually I went into my bedroom and put on my pants. And I think next time maybe I should wear them whenever I go outside -- that is, whenever I feel safe enough to leave the house again!]]> http://www.writerq.com/mobile/library/853/no-cause-for-paranoia/ Wed, 19 Nov 2014 20:50:25 +0000 Devlin Ryder http://www.writerq.com/mobile/library/838/don-039-t-touch-me/
And while I was growing up I was beautiful. My mother would say, "Doesn't Benjamin have the cutest little physique?" And all our occasional company or even people along the streets would smile and nod. Some would point out my large blue eyes and long eye-lashes. Or my bright golden locks (I had shoulder-length hair). I knew what people were seeing, of course, and how they were seeing it: because I was also intelligent. In fact, my beauty was often the focus of other people's admiration. They wanted to be a beautiful boy child like me. Loved. Adored.

By the time I was twelve I would stand naked in front of the bathroom mirror; sometimes for hours, looking at my young boy's body, the vague contours of my stomach, all my smooth skin, my muscular legs. Even my chest was beginning to display some dimension. Tarzan, I thought. And I would examine my armpits for tiny little hairs. Admirable blonde wisps . . . if you looked close enough.

At sixteen I had become handsomely beautiful. Everybody wanted to touch me. All the girls. And even some teachers would brush against my jacket or try to shake my hand. Any excuse to touch me. To be close to me. To actually be me, I think. They all wanted to be a beautiful teenage boy, with his whole life ahead of him. Sometimes I would tell jokes that were purposely unfunny. And people would laugh anyway. Which always disappointed me. Fakes.

Now that I'm in my twenties I no longer trust anyone. I've let myself get fat and pasty looking. I'm also hairy. And I've let myself get smelly. Smelly on purpose. Because I don't want people sitting next to me on the subway. I don't want people looking at me or touching me, while they hope I come off on their fingertips, so they can turn and taste me. I just want to be left alone.

I wear rags now, too, on purpose, and there are holes in my shoes.

I don't expect you to understand.]]> http://www.writerq.com/mobile/library/838/don-039-t-touch-me/ Fri, 31 Oct 2014 19:50:02 +0000 Devlin Ryder http://www.writerq.com/mobile/DevlinRyder/ http://www.writerq.com/mobile/DevlinRyder/ Thu, 17 Apr 2014 14:37:17 +0000 Brittany Finley http://www.writerq.com/mobile/library/312/rain/
It came down like God flapping the skirts of his giant raincoat, as I huddled against a New York winter. My collar was pulled up around my neck; it was the only coat I owned, moth eaten and inadequate. But I kept my vision, sneaker-shod and scurrying down 8th Avenue. I knew where I was trying to go, now literally, and of course metaphorically. Always metaphorically. That's how we philosophers are, always finding the metaphor, the alternate view, the deeper meaning. Yes -- so let's just get this out of the way: I am a musician. I play the guitar. I'm a young man who left home a few months ago and I'm out trying to find my own place in the world. Okay. There. I've said it. I'm a walking cliche.

But how many walking cliche's do you know who've committed murder, eh? Now I'm a walking contradiction as well, wouldn't you say? But I find a kind of safety in both, really. And to be honest, if I had it to do all over again, I'd do it entirely differently. For example, I wouldn't have hid the body in the sewer pipe. I probably wouldn't even have strangled the guy. No. No. I would have done it differently. I would have used a blunt instrument against his head and thrown him into the lake with a cinder block tied around his feet. Let them try to find that one.

Okay, but this was my first time, and I was stupid, I know. I'll try to manage it better next time, to say, before the day is through. Of course there will be a next time and I'm guessing right around six o'clock this evening. I'm suppose to meet Jimbo at five. We'll see if he shows up. Hey, money talks, people. And I've got a career to see out.]]> http://www.writerq.com/mobile/library/312/rain/ Tue, 08 Apr 2014 04:16:40 +0000 Devlin Ryder http://www.writerq.com/mobile/library/183/sis/
It's been such a long time. And I still miss you. I feel like it's been a thousand years. I hope you are doing okay where you are, wherever that may be; I guess you can catch me up on all the goings-on once I join you, one day, if you still remember me when I get there. No doubt, though, you've forgotten all about earthly things, the trite, irrelevant events we living souls endure every boring day. Oh, the vanity of our aspirations here! And how little we realize what's important.
If I could have you back, I'd squeeze you and never let go. Not too hard, of course, because you were such a little thing when you left us. My sincere hope is that they've got lots of rainbows and unicorns and glitter where you are. Remember pasting them in your books all the time? haha. I miss that. I miss your giggle. I miss your little, capable hands; and when you learned to say the word "inspiration"; the way you walked around the house saying it a thousand times.
I'll write again soon. Be good, learn as much as you can, say hello to Gram for me. I'm thinking about you.
You will always be my little sunshine.

Love,
Your big "beasty" brother. haha.
--Charles]]> http://www.writerq.com/mobile/library/183/sis/ Mon, 14 Apr 2014 05:24:45 +0000 Devlin Ryder http://www.writerq.com/mobile/DevlinRyder/ http://www.writerq.com/mobile/DevlinRyder/ Sat, 25 May 2013 18:23:04 +0000 Devlin Ryder http://www.writerq.com/mobile/DevlinRyder/ http://www.writerq.com/mobile/DevlinRyder/ Sat, 25 May 2013 18:20:48 +0000 Devlin Ryder