About Me

44870759_10217385422215912_8131182258871599104_nRoy-Gene Aidan (艾瑞惍) is a writer, social and political progressive, bleeding-heart liberal, unapologetic tree-hugger, nascent world-traveler, former junior high Student Council presidential candidate, occasional hipster, sometime rabble-rouser, recovering cynic, frequent potty-mouth, proud electric scooter owner, pet parent, disaffected country boy, sarcasm and dad-joke aficionado, aspiring coffee and beer connoisseur, amateur home-brewer, and flagrant dreamerbut not in that orderas well as a 2012 graduate of Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, Oklahoma. In his free time, he enjoys reading, writing, thrift shopping, and admiring the aesthetics of his boyfriend Marc’s posterior. He takes his brews strong, his cocktails only when he has no other choice, and his flannel plaid. There are only two things he truly detests in life: people who are arrogant in their ignorance and dark chocolate… and wearing socks in bed. Okay, so, three things.

He was catechized as “Aidan”for St. Aidan of Lindisfarneon July 22, 2012, at Holy Apostles Orthodox Christian Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma. What that action signifies to him is still a matter of substantial internal debate, but he currently identifies as an agnostic atheist and considers it highly unlikely that any of the known human conceptions of God or divinity are remotely accurate. In February of 2013, he moved to Daegu, South Korea, where he lived for two years as a teacher of English as a second language, a profession he just sort of fell into out of college but in which he nonetheless plans to continue in the meantime until he finds something better to do. Since late March of 2015, he’s lived in Taiwan, first in Douliu City, then in Taipei, and now in Sanchong District of New Taipei City with his drop-dead sexy boyfriend, Marc; two overly-fat felines, Xiao Fei and Subaru; a rescue dog, Peanut; and a revolving cast of housemates and house guests in their fancy-pants two-story, four-bedroom rooftop condo. Ultimately, he just wants to move to the Pacific Northwest, build himself a house out of mud, grow his food in a picturesque little garden, and open a quirky coffee shop/pub that’s really obscure and that you’ve probably never heard of. Finally, because he knows you’re wondering, yes, he did write this himself in the third person while he was slightly tipsy. Deal with it.

About Roygeneable

Hi. I’m Roy-Gene. I write shit.

I started this blog back in early spring of 2011 when I was freshly 21 years old and living in Washington, D.C., and in a very different phase and place in life. Some time before that, when I was creating my Gmail address, I discovered to my crushing dismay that roygene at gmail dot com was already taken (A THOUSAND DEATHS ON YOUR HEAD, VILE SCUM). But, never fear, for Google was there to offer suggestions for an alternate username. Among the predictable suggestions (roygene11941032139, etc.) was one that caught my eye: roygeneable. “How curious!” I said to myself. “I’ve never thought of my name as an adjective.” I immediately felt less bad about not getting my first choice (NEVER MIND, VILE SCUM). The rest, in due course, is history.


As I said, I started this blog when I was in a very different place in life. I was a student at a bizarre Christian university from which I had made a temporary escape at a particularly low point in my college experience. I was a closeted gay Christian who had accepted an internship at a wildly anti-gay hate group in our nation’s capital. I was a fervent believer in God who spent an hour every day in prayer and meditation, mostly asking Him to make me straight. In the years since then, a lot has happened and changed in my life, as you’ve probably guessed by now after reading my bio. In like manner, my blog has changed a lot as well in that time. Some of my posts are better than others and some of the things I’ve written in the past are things that I would now publicly disavow. But, for the most part, I don’t delete them. I’m not in the business of whitewashing history, even my own.

A human life is a complicated train wreck, full of wild twists and turns and course corrections and more than a few dead ends. The personal narratives we construct are an illusory salve we apply to our existential angst. Despite our best efforts to convince ourselves otherwise, no one follows a clean, linear, orderly path from the womb to the tomb. It just doesn’t work that way and I see my blog as a means for me to remember where I’m from, where I’ve been, where I thought I would be, and where I want to go. If you find that sort of introspection interesting, then I invite you to explore my posts. Comment on them too, if you wish; I love a good conversation. Nevertheless, this blog primarily exists for the maintenance of my own sanity: I don’t really care if any of you read it or like it because I’m not writing it for you. I’m writing it for me. Anyway, thanks for stopping by. Also, I use the Twitter Machine, so you’re welcome to follow me there too if you like. Cheers.

Recent Posts

ANNALS of FAITH: How Great Is That Darkness

Ultra Pic

Photo by i.am.marc

Not so very long ago, somewhere, far down and at the center, was a chasm, yawning wide and deep. Or, maybe it was more like a cauldron, bubbling and boiling above some infernal blaze gods only know what. Fuck, I don’t know. It really defied any sort of discrete depiction in words, which I guess was at least partially the problem. I can tell you the places it was, though. That’s much easier. It pushed against the bottom of my heart. It tormented my diaphragm. It pulsated and writhed and twisted around against the outer walls of my lungs. It rumbled and roared and constricted, then erupted in shock waves that rippled outward to the ends of my fingers and toes and to the tips of my hair. It wasn’t always in the same place, but one of its favorite haunts was just inside my right breast, where it emitted an electric heat down my arm all the way to the ends of my fingernails. One dark night, as I lay in bed fearing yet another sleepless marathon to morning filled with a racing mind and encroaching terror, I attempted to communicate with it. I focused my mind’s eye on the little knot of flame and spoke directly to it. It’s okay that you’re here, I said. I won’t ignore or shout you down this time. I promise.

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