The Man Behind The Curtain

facebook.com/ryanrols …. @PTAnderson, if you choose so. :) 

Beers With John Wilkes Booth

My cell phone buzzed and the race was on.

I strolled in to the bar and my friend was already there, belly up to the bar…

…a shot glass on its side and finishing his beer.

“Hey man, hows it going? You alright?” as I sit down.

“It’s all the same, man. The revolving sun is the only clock I know.” he says.

I haven’t seen John in a few months. He hasn’t been well for over a hundred years it seems like.

He’s wearing an Obama “Change” shirt. It’s not fooling anyone.

His hair is long and in his eyes and he smells of a Halloween store.

I’ve never been in the presence of an actor such as he…though no one can recall a show he was in, a line he recited.

It’s fascinating how the mind of a hero in the mirror works.

Nothing done wrong. Everything justified.

But what’s a friend to do? Give up on him like everyone else?

He put his hand on my shoulder and thanks me:

“Thank you for sticking with me, Ryan. You’re a good listener and a better friend.”

“Lets get out of here, J.W. We’ll go to a late movie.”

Options are limited with my friend. Doesn’t like crowds, no live shows. No balconies.

He picks up the tab in $2 Bills and we’re heading for the exit.

I hold the door open for him and he stumbles along. I don’t think it’s the alcohol. The change of season bothers his leg.

Hump Day

The last girl I made love to had a mind so narrow, it was like she was still a virgin.

“What did I do?” she asked,

“You didn’t even give Donnie Darko a chance.” I told her.

I sent her on her way, thinking she’d have eyes in the back of her head.

I watch too many movies.

She thought life was too short, and me, way too long.

The sounds of laughter are too far of a distant memory,

and this is too much work for me to put my feet up to

My mother always said the right girl would come for me,

but the human body can only survive 2 days without water.

(i was the) man overboard

Over the weekend I went to a bar in Hoboken to see a band from New Jersey play. I’ve seen many shows at this local hangout and it’s quickly turned into my favorite place to hang out at.

I rolled up there with my friend. From living a stones throw from NYC and working in the big bad city, we’ve gotten to know the public transportation system really well and can get home from pretty much anywhere. Thank God. It’s time to get loose.

I quickly find an opening in the bar and I squeeze in and make some real estate. I toss my debit card to the bald hipster behind the bar and tell him “two brooklyn lagers and don’t let us see the bottoms of these glasses.” The first one goes down and I didn’t even taste it. One or two more and we’re ready for some music.

The opening band is ok, except I’m having a panic attack because it just to happens every member of the band looks like a random friend of mine. I make it through two songs before I go back to the bar.

We post up at a different spot this time, next to these two girls. One is really cute and might just be making eye contact with me. The other has half a haircut and likes my friend. I try to impress them and buy them a shot of Rumple-Mintze (look it up). They both think it’s gross and say “no”. Now we have 4 shots of minty German liquor in front of us. That’s cool. 

I’ve now started calling the bartender “Chachi.” Another opening band walks on the stage, but we stay at the bar.

My friend orders two more shots. After sucking ‘em down, we turn around to spit unbelievable game to these girls, but they’re gone. Before we know it, the band we want to see is doing their sound check.

Another beer before the lights go down, and I am singing at the top of my lungs for the opening song. This is the best night in my life. I’m not really sure what happened, but I quickly became the life of the crowd to the drunk guy who fell on the floor and got stepped on.

As for the girls, we found them after the set talking to Buddy from Senses Fail. I plow through to tell him I liked their EP.

If a night that ends with you paying too much money for strange German alcohol, striking out with a few girls who would rather talk to a dated frontman with neck tattoos, and you have work at your entry level job in a few hours…it can still be one of the best nights you’ve ever had….especially if on the train ride home, you remember you left your debit card at the bar.

This Tumblr is about the stories you leave with and the friends who have to remind you what you did the night before.

haha my screen name, yea. Blink 182 will always be my favorite band. No one even knows who Box Car Racer is anymore. You’re just the coolest girl in school. :)

Can I Have A Ride Home?

Last week I went out for a few drinks with my friend from work. What was meant to be a relaxing beer or two, turned out to be him and I traveling through Brooklyn, pounding beers, meeting new people, and ending up at a Techno show with the fog machine on way too high. This was all before 11:00 pm EST. I had to make my bus back to Jersey at midnight. As much as I talk about NYC, I only work there. I’m bridge and tunnel. 

Before we leave the last bar of the night, I end up meeting and talking to this girl. Apparently she’s the CEO and Founder of this small Brooklyn-based clothing line. “Love Brigade” (there’s your plug, girl). I ask her what she’s drinking so I can buy her one. “Vodka Tonic with a splash of ginger ale.” Funny what you remember.

When I hand her the drink, she’s so thrilled I bought one for her. Mind you, she’s very attractive, so this couldn’t be a rare thing, a guy buying her a drink. “Oh my God that’s so nice of you! Karma has finally come back for me!” Karma isn’t my thing so I just yes her off until I look at my watch. Shit, I gotta get back to Port Authority.

I’m waiting for my bus and, I’ll admit, I was bracing myself against that wall. I was feeling nice.

My bus finally comes. I sit down, put my headphones on and I think, “Ryan, don’t fall asleep and miss your stop.” I make it back through the Lincoln Tunnel, then all of a sudden, I just wake up….

“Oh no, where am I?” I’m in Wayne, New Jersey. I press the Stop Request button immediately. The bus keeps going for another 3 minutes before stopping at this large transit center. I’m now a good 15 miles from my house. “Holy shit, it’s 1:00 am EST. How the hell am I gonna get home?” I get off the bus with 4 other guys who are parked at this transit center about to go home. “Fuck it. I’m gonna ask one of these guys for a ride home.”

“Hey man, can-“… “No.” The first guy didn’t even let me finish. I could’ve been asking for the time. I could’ve said “Hey man, can I give you $20?” I run up to another guy already walking to his car. I literally have to run after him because he’s got his head phones on and can’t hear me. “Hey man, can you give me a ride home? I slept trough my stop and I’m stuck. I’m in Cedar Grove.” … (totally nonchalant) “Uhh sure.”

We get to his Jeep in the parking lot and he looks at me and says, “Dude, please don’t fucking kill me. I just had my first kid 4 weeks ago.” … “Same to you, man. I just wanna get home.”

We’re making small talk on the drive back and I’m giving him directions. “Thanks a lot, man. You totally saved my ass.” … “Oh, no problem. Not like I’m sleeping at home with a newborn anyway. We’ve all done it. It’s just nice to keep up good Karma.” Then it clicked. Karma seemed pretty black and white right there. What if I was a drunken dick to that girl at the bar? Or if I never met her? Maybe he would’ve driven me home anyway. Maybe that drink was the one that did me in and I would’ve stayed awake. Or maybe I’d be stuck in Wayne, NJ for the night. Maybe I have to wake up my father.

The guy dropped me off outside my house. I said thanks and shook his hand. I never got his name. Never asked. Consider this a thank you. Tell your wife I’m sorry and good luck with your daughter.

I’m Still Here…

I’ve been neglecting Tumblr for a few months or so. Work in the big city has been busy and wrapping up the summer with family and friends has taken up a lot of time.

I can’t stay up like super late like the good ol’ days to update my blog. What brought me back was a co-worker who asked me why I haven’t written anything lately. He doesn’t have a Tumblr, but apparently reads my shit.

Here’s hoping more people do.

In other news, I get my tattoo on Saturday night. The one that I posted about a while ago. I promised you pics, and pics you will get.

Let’s do this, Tumblr. Cheers.

meeting a UFC fighter in NYC

So where I work in the city, I work the Tuesday - Saturday shift. Today, the office is more dead than usual. I came into the office and immediatly went to my Brazilian co-worker to talk to him about Brazil’s loss in the World Cup yesterday. He’s super depressed so I go outside with him while he has a smoke.

As soon as we get outside, there’s a black Ferrari parked right in front of the office, and there’s this guy walking around it, taking pictures with his phone. This man is about 5’11 and is jacked. He’s wearing red mesh shorts with a matching sleevless shirt. His head is shaved and has a large chin beard.

Mid conversation about the soccer game, the guy comes over to us and just starts jawing it up about the car. I was like, “Yea, man. I thought it was yours…the way you were scoping it out.”

“Oh no, brother. I have 3 at home, but they’re last years. I want this one.”

My co-worker and I kinda look at each other and say “whatever” with our eyebrows.

“You guys watch UFC?”, the large man says. “My name is TKO” and he extends his hand. I’m 60% sure he broke two of my fingers with that handshake. He mentions he lives in Flordia.

We are both pleased to meet him, and my buddy asks “are you in town for a fight?”

“Oh no. I actually do male porn on the side. I’m here getting ready for a shoot.”

We both mumble something along the lines of “gotta do what you gotta do” and my co-worker takes a long drag from his cigarette. He finished his thought about the car and was on his way….and that was it.

I’ve met some famous people in my office when we work on their films, but this story is my favorite so far. I can still feel the handshake on my hand. Which reminds me…where’s the Purell?

art house

I still live at home with my my parents and sister in suburban New Jersey. I have the mall with the muliplex theater a few miles west, and a busy street with little shops and my art house theatre, a little closer to the east.

Downstairs, in my house, we have the big screen TV with the Blu Ray player. If I have the time alone, I’m there chillen. The kitchen is every Italians favorite room in the house. It’s right in the middle of the property, so  one must pass through it to get anywhere else in the house. I find myself closing cabinet and pantry doors so I don’t make a detour and come out with something to snack on. We still have the one room that no one really goes into. It’s a room with no TV and more expensive furniture. I hate those kind of living rooms. Does anyone else still have those?

If you go up the stairs and make a hard left, you’ve enetered my man cave. Recently, my room has gotten out of control. Straight ahead there is a ceiling to floor shelf that coveres half of the entire back wall. The only thing consuming that shelf is DVDs. It’s about half full, but it doesn’t really stand a chance. In the corner of the room to your right where you enter is my TV. A big, tube mother fucker. It’s heavy and has a very good chance of breaking the pathetic wooden stand that it’s occupying. There I have my Wii (that I now use mostly for Netflix since I vaccumed over the sensor bar a few month back), my PS2 that I play old Madden’s on and create myself as the quarterback, and a Sega Genesis…because NBA Jam in the best video game of all time.

In front of my DVD rack is my drum set that I took out of storage not too long ago. Ever since I started this job in New York, I haven’t been able to play as much as I’d like…but a few of my friends always talk about jamming. I gotta take a seat and bang some shit soon (that’s what she said). To top it all off I have books stacked on the empty spaces on my DVD shelves and have my ancient Apple lap top open at all times.

What I’m getting at is I love the chaos that is my room. There’s always something to watch or do. Yea, sometimes the clothes will pile up on the bass drum of my set, or I’ll skip a week of dusting or vaccuming…but it’s my little world. The most exciting thing is, when I do move out (which I’m hoping is soon), my apartment will only be a larger version of this getaway. Anyone wanna be my roomate?

Good morning, guys! This where I read a little bit before I step into the office. I’m in downtown Manhattan, a few short twists and turns off of Houston.

Have a killer Friday, buds! :)