Ryan Rado, Paint Please.

February 17, 2015

Paintings! (iPhone photos) if you’re interested to buying one.. Email me (ryanrado@gmail.com)  or just say it!
Thank you.  Details below.. 😃











A. Wood Sparks. 2’x4′ reclaimed wooden frame, stained Mohaganey Red, 225. 

 C. Tidal Cage. 11″x19″ reclaimed wooden frame, stained Mohaganey Red, 100. 

E. Back/Brain, 4’x4′, reclaimed wooden frame,  375. (Hanging on our wall right now. Looks righteous!)

G. Re: Materials. Mono prints using materials found. (Sold)

I.a Portal. Mono print on X-Ray sheet, reclaimed wooden frame, 150. 

I.b Lawed. Mono print on X-Ray sheet, reclaimed wooden frame, 150. 

K. Silverscape. 4’x 10″.  Acrylic on Birch In-lay wood, reclaimed wooden frame, stained Mohaganey Red, 200. 

M. Self, Come Down From Self, 3.5’x 4′. Triptych, Mixed. (Sold)

O. Sharp. 4’x 10″  Mixed, reclaimed wooden frame, stained Red Mohaganey, 150.

Q. Leanscape, 3’x 4′, reclaimed wooden frame, stained Mohaganey Red, 225. 

More coming soon.  Have a good day, please!


January 1, 2015

Mayonaise.  I wrote this about two years ago while living in Hohenwald, TN.  If you like this song by The Smashing Pumpkins you’ll notice the assistance I had. :)

I’ve been loving the song Mayonaise by Smashing Pumpkins for decades. The song comes across to me like gentle pressure through out my whole body. Like it’s holding me comfortably in place for 5 minutes or so.

Mayonaise for days. 5 minute power-nap. Smothering the speakers. Leaning into me. Comfort in crowding. Fascia filled up, neuroreceptors.

Water, fat and electricity gently disconnecting blemishes from me. Swaying, rocking – revolving in its gravity. Concentrating an exhale.

Generations of imbalanced chemistry touch chords and resolve. I gently bounce like little ones enveloped in happiness. Heaviest, softest blanket. Love is so dreamy. Nutrient dense. Take time with texture. Dissolve.

Encouraged, I empty my pockets of empty sorrows. I trace every buried line. Each narrow, each layer repeated and recessed in squiggles. Every little echo for me to examine. All reverb and fuzz. Echo rebounding, buoy sailing forever.

Little attention to movement. Stirring hours settle for slight detection of fractional rearrangement. Time is given back. Crossing bridges, smelling seasons, feeding back levels of excellence.

I understand you. Understand, I will.———-

My friend Chris Hayzlet and I have been recording some podcasts over the past little while. We took a break, and now we’re back at it with The All New Hado and Rayzlett Show. Two Dudes. No Plan. No Edits. Have a listen.

All New Hado And Rayzlett - Episode 1 by The Hado And Rayzlett Show on Mixcloud

different things

October 24, 2014


This builder of towers hovers under my roof

Reigns over diagrams, complex proofs

I am the builder, I got everything to lose

Tacks and screws, modifications – I refuse

 I withdrew..

The One Who Speaks the clearest light allows me a sturdy pulse. 

“Why cling so tight to your pattern, son?

Settle down, ..settle.”

I swoon.. 

Just to wring out some words..

No answer.

Nothing emerged.

I dance, (and) I flutter;  tired chords mutter..

“From Whom comes this Voice to soothe what I’ve sewn.

Call Your agenda, and all fine print You tow.

I make my living, I make it just so;

I make my living, lines and rows.”

He resolves –  “Builder, pile your cells gently;  recognize your ends

Bless the One who built you;  nothing here is permanent”



April 22, 2014

We allow ourselves to be categorized by our problems. When we become our disabilities or emotional issues, we bury ourselves. You are not just a sum of your problems. I am not just the sum of my problems.

My lungs work.
My fingers work.
My eyes work.
My tongue works.
My toes work.
My mind works.
My heart works.
My legs work.
My back hurts, I still walk.. I can even run.

My nose can smell.
My taste buds can taste.
My ears can hear.
I am not buried.
I am loving, lovable and loved.
I am a good husband.
I am a good friend.

I move a bit more than most.
I like to eat pizza.
I move a bit more than most.
I like loud music.
I move a bit more than most.
I like the taste of Coca-Cola.
I move a bit more than most.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for all of it.


How-well, MI. Son!

January 2, 2014





Written June, 2013  


Ever-changing, we are.  Constantly striving to make us better.   Bringing back times of greatness when we find ourselves desolate, and we do find ourselves there.  The few months before going to Michigan I found myself reminiscing of times-flown-by.  On top of that, I was working on ways to bring back the good ‘ole days.  They’ve got to be up there somewhere!  I was looking forward to walking around and seeing my hometown of Howell with “new eyes”.  Some clearer vision to see the place where I grew up for what it was.  Not what I remember or what I fantasized it could be this time around.  



What I had failed to remember is this – I’m not the same person and this town is filled with a lot of new different people.  Even the landscape is different in certain places because of the people.  Granted, the majority of landmarks key in my childhood were still intact, but the interior of the Howell Taco Bell had been remodeled.  Same on the outside, different on the inside.  Driving by earlier in the day, I could see from the windows that it had some work done.  I parked in front of the courthouse or Grand River.  I was driving our mini-van, I wasn’t driving a 1981 bright-yellow 4 door Chevette, which I drove in High School.  I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think The Ku Klux Klan has had a rally inside of a fence on the grounds of the courthouse in some time.  But, the Dairy-Queen (which was added before I left town) was still on the corner, right by the courthouse.  There was a new Skate Shop (called The Skater’s Advocate.  Awesome name, by the way.  We all know skaters are the devil!)   just behind the Dairy-Queen, I needed to grab some internet, so I walked over and in.  The guy at the counter, I think his name was Bill was super-cool.  I told him I grew up here, am working on a book and was looking to get some thoughts down.  He said “go for it, man”, or something like that.  I did.  After reading what I had written in the shop when I got back to Columbia, I feel differently about them and am not going to use them.  Hmm..  I’m headed somewhere, can you guess where to?!




So, from the Skate Shop to The Howell Carnige Library.  This was one place still standing, that I never stepped foot in while growing up.  So, up the steps and open the door.  The library had undergone an interior remodeling as well!  Sheesh, the glory of it all.  A wonderful insightful stream of thought was unfolding.  I asked the librarian for a pen and paper (I put the computer back in the van before coming to the library).  I looked for a couple books, so I’d look like I was supposed to be there and found a nice place to sit and write some stuff down.  I was excited about what was pouring out of the pen onto the paper.  I was getting out exactly what I was thinking.  Done!  Ahh..  (when back in Columbia I did some laundry and found those thoughts washed into a wad of paper. I was kinda bummed, but whatever)


I got up, returned the pen and moseyed to the front lobby.  I looked at some Christian cds for a second and then walked out the door.  Down the steps and over to the left.  I passed the auto-window place and Guss’s Carry out.  Both still in operation.  I passed the little indoor plaza at the end where I used to buy and trade baseball and basketball cards.  Now a jewelry store..  Proceeded to Main St, I crossed to the South side of Grand River, down Main Street a little bit and then back up.  By this time, the burger and fries and Coke I had eaten in Farmington was hollerin’ at me.  I was seeing a ton of those floaties in my eyes and my mind was drifting into Meta-scape.  I was getting tired of thinking and of working so hard to re-create times passed.  I was getting nothing of “feeling”.  No thoughts of Smashing Pumpkins or hall wandering in Howell High School.  No baseball strike-outs and no locking my keys in the car at the Clark Station which I was passing now.  Lies!  I thought about it.  I remembered how pissed and embarrassed I was.  I quickly let that go because I was on my walking way to the building that held my first Grocery Bagger position.  Sefa’s Market.  I knew it had been purchased by another company, so I wasn’t expecting to see the Sefa’s sign.  


Still on Grand River, passing the police station I was about to catch a glimpse of my old workplace.  I did.  It had been closed down.  Looked condemned, to me that is.  Inoperable.  No one walking in or out, no exchange of funds for food.  No children pestering Moms for candy.  Bewilderment.  Ever-changing.




It led me here.  Humans are changing constantly.  Even when we feel as stagnant as ever, we’re in motion.  We may be dependable at one point, and then flaky at another.  We may be angry for years and then able to slow down, peacefully.  We can’t really count on us.  


I was expecting this town to have waited for me.  Over all these years, to let me see it the exact same as when I left it.  Like, I was the only reason this town was here in the first place.  But, while looking at historic photos on the wall in the library, I realized there were people living in this land-unchanging before I did!  Blasted!  And, to make things even more incredible, like I said, there are people still living here.. And completely different people, at that!  


The lion’s share of the town was still the same, but there had been some things altered.  Men and Women have altered them.  They’ve plowed new roads, changed up streets, built new buildings and tore some down.  New streetlights and new schools.  Planted new grass and were eating at different restaurants.  They hadn’t waited for me in the least!  Haha!  Of course, they’ve changed!



With all of the changing going on and how I think and feel differently about the changes they’ve made to my home-town and how I’ve let other people and towns change me it brought me, once again, to the consistency of The Father.  Sure, there probably have been folks in the past knee-boarding the same thought-waves, but it hit me like a ton of Tacos!


God doesn’t change.  We are always changing, most of the time it’s for our gain.  Adding more and more when we should be subtracting.  Re-creating the past, even when the past could’ve been infinitely more difficult than “the now”.  Because, somehow, in our emotional, romancing mind “now” is harder than then.  Maybe it’s because we made it through “then”, and we will make it through “now”.  I mean, you just did.  And, there.. You just did it again!  And, again!  See?  Smiley face.


(this is our old house)



So, if The Father is unchanging and our lives are ever-changing, wouldn’t it make some sense to find ourselves in the Foundation during the cyclone?  To somehow stay on the ground when all the wind and water works so hard to whip us away?   The fruits of the Spirit, The laws regarding what to eat and what not to eat in the Torah?  Allowing ourselves to be forgiven and to forgive?  Even the 10 Commandments!  Oh man, it gets even better!  It even seems to be literal!  I can’t believe I believe that!  5 years ago, there was no way I could be convinced that an “adulterated” book of life lessons and parables could be, like, so literal man.   

In a book Christina read a while back the author writes something like – When you read the Bible, whatever you’re looking for you’ll find.  If you’re looking for war, you’ll find it.  If you’re looking for deception, you’ll find it.  If you’re looking for something to argue with, you’ll find it.  In the same way, if you’re looking for forgiveness and how to forgive, you’ll find it.  If you’re looking for peace, you’ll find it.  And, if you’re looking nice little stories, you’ll find them.

Draw near to The Father and He will draw near to you.   




Unlock it up.

November 6, 2013





Generally thinking of Me.

              As I work to be all I can be.

 Stuck in figuring around and through infinity.

   Back again, re: beginning.

         Off and out.    Self-stagnancy.

Convictions in the billions, points made,   most worthy.

 Morals, idiosyncrasies- ripped by wind.

     Pelting, grooving – moldy wood inside,

`          Bio-degraded blemishes

    Blended tissues of micro-organisms I’ve lived in.

Think for myself, Mr. Self.

The only You, no one else.   Think yourself stupid. It never stops,  never succeeds.                                    


First threshold- now busted, present another.  

I break them well, always..

It becomes necessity.


   Pursue a plow into pitfalls

Position some greater truth.

I question all questions;                    moments bursting, conjuring.  

              Please peer through plexi-glass clarity

   Proper laddering.  Smashing  ceilings.

                                                            Peeking, over into

                                                        my way out


                                                myself into light.  

                                     *What *is *that *which  *glitters

   *How *does *its *glitter *show?


                           munching and confused

                           and scrunching and

                      chewing and crunching.



If I could give it back, if only for a little while,

 Stay as small as possible.

Stay in shadows, sunshade- in the still..  

Holy One, break my breath.  

Stiff-necked, dismantle misused power, windswept.  

Thresholds of which I’ve been terrified..   


Ankle deep efforts,  bookless plots, showy searching,

septic tanks of need, surrender popularity.  

I surrender all other persons growing inside me.   

The Man called Desire, he’s slated to achieve.  

Goodbye, Mr. Mind, you keep me dead inside,.   

Hurt; outcry!  Again, goodbye!   

Spasms captured upon entering,

Camouflaged futures, I can not see.

Pick from me indigo flowering

Worry-free, predicting not where futures will be

Moments, for just now, this time being

Dissolve suturing.


If you choose,

please show me

From thresholds aloof.  

Stepping and braking.

Nearer to the ground.  

Backward on rungs, retracing.

Ladder. Step one- as tall as little king.



            Spinning and wailing.

      I’ve set me free!

        I think nonsense, I believe it, too.  

                               I’m dependent on substance.

          Substantial and authentic ideas absurdly bounce.  

                  It has been said,

  “inches deep“

                          Circle about circles.   

                                           Winning and spailing.




Bring me up to

Core’s warmth,

Regain for me,


wind-whipped rain,



Trickle back-

water logged thought.

Ryan Rado-

The former anchor

in a bag of bones.  

Grooves in cedar,

a wooden ceiling-

horizontal above the door.   

Half-vertical; I reach door handle

Open, walk through

Step over a body,

a shell I’ve not as so much procured,

wither-sift through

grates of light,

years upon years.  

I lack the will,

I surrender that, too.  

Everything .

I believe I am,

I surrender to you.


John 5



September 28, 2013

This song just hits me in the right spot. Breathe it in!

Seems Fun, Not Fun.

September 25, 2013

The Man made The Sugar Bug and I’m sure it’s a beetle

Neuro-transfixing schizophrenic needle.

Cursed is the night time and hallucinogenics

Past midnight Potassium push-ups for me.


Gave the gas station all of my allowance

Light-footed steps, I swing the bag of confusion

Little does my liver know

He’s about to be on over-load

A beckoning from Fun-gi. Here’s how it goes..

Twix, Ho-Hos.

Rollercoasted cookie-dough

Transient clarity.

Joyus disparity.

Vonnegut? Bukowski? – mediocrity

I’ve got sugar, I’ve am creativity

You want dialog, you got it.

Just jump on in here, we got room for three..

Me, me and me.


Dudes! I’m so pumped!

Guys I’m really bummed..

No, you’re not.

Yes, I am.

No. You’re not.


Yes, dude…

Matter it not, my friend..

Let us declare..

Glory to Man!

Mike- not Ike, The Other Man.

He made these tasty treats that these teeth take from these hands.



Now look me in the eyes.

Both of ’em at the same time.

That’s impossible. Don’t even try.

When you’re not quite sure, but you could be having fun – time flies.

Us three wild and crazy guys!



Okay, that was a fun little exercise

Reese’s cups, Chocolate emapnada pies.

I gotta keep it movin’



After that..

Unnecessary projects

Slow it down?

No way! Rage!

Ain’t nobody got time for that.



New game..

Computer screens, a screen of any kind really

Click, click boom… oh, this guy is silly

I’m all eyes, ears and static

Right hand on selector

Brain on erratic.

Ohh, the relief I feel when I flip the channels

2 hours later I’m locked into Joyce Meyer’s rambles.

The World-Wide-Web – what a trifling no-place

Even more trifling as big ole white bleached out teeth gnaw your face

Candy canes.




Now, I think we got four dudes partying’ hard.

I think.

One, half present.

The others out revolving the yard.

Waitin on Who Knows to join this episode

I’ve met him a few times ago.

Ryan, sit down for a second

Chill out, bro.

In the meantime, eat this Rolo.

Thanks, man.

Heyyy.. No sweat, bud.


Okay, done with that.. Onward Cortisol Fool!

External speakers rule!

Increase the bass function.

Oh yeah, this’ll do instead…


I Know!

Betty makes Milquetoast






Well, this has been ritual abuse if I’ve ever seen it

It’s now 630, and here comes Christina.

She’s up and at ‘em, crack of dawn style

Oh boy, oh boy I’m starting to crash into the pile.

Morning time was just here and just went

Another night’s rummage, 9 dollars ill spent

Breakfast being made in the kitchen with care

In hopes that Mr. Ryan will eat what’s prepared

A menu of fresh eggs from the local hens

Raw goat cheese, onions and greens and beef bacon

Sure, my lady I’ll eat a little bit.

I planned to be hungrier, but it’s simply complex.

You want me to explain? Okay..I’ll try it.

Last night was a Carb riot.

Honestly, my tummy hurts while I sit

Psoas, Glutes, Pelvis and Paraformis.

I’m bloated, so bloated.. That’s what I’m telling’ ya.

Last night- estranged and full of dementia

The Sugar Baby Monster is a Ding-Dong.




September 23, 2013

I love my Dad, I’m gonna go ahead and state it.

Got a lot of his mannerisms, gab gab, is one of my favorites.

He and my Mom, were children when I was born.

Set now –  figure it out – family’s forlorn.

A lot of that pressure to provide the path, dealing with his own neurological past.

Big family- Zoley baby, June and 6 others.

Clem and Stella created my beautiful mother.

Putting it together outside of Detroit.

Tied knots – proved points.

This is what we both need.

Say goodbye to Fathers and Mothers, hello Godspeed.

The Emperor spoke the promise of promises.

Family history, looked over sewn up trauma.

They did all they knew in order to show me the sun.

Put limits on me and the television.

Mom and Dad together was short.

3-4 years building living rooms, building forts.

There’s more to every story including theirs, telling’s not necessary to clear the air.

Dad and I didn’t have a ton of time, weekends, every other to keep each other in line.

Kind of fighting the same battles at different coordinates.

The Tourette’s label on us, insubordinate.

That’s okay and it’s all fine.

We got today and we can make the time.

61, 35.

Some say late start, I say we’re in our prime.

Little did I know how much we missed,

Now, each past could cease to exist.

Dad, I got the same hang ups- different starting points.

But, if you ever need me to pick you up, you know I’m still your boy.

Okay, Rado..

Now that’s outta the way

Bring it on down to TN one of these days.

So many funny things about being a man.

Understand, pardon, forgive the best you can.




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