‘The other gods died of their temporality, yet the supreme meaning never dies.’
‘The other gods died of their temporality, yet the supreme meaning never dies.’
Question: There are those that do not believe that a single soul born in heaven can split into twin spirits and shoot like falling stars to earth where over oceans and continents their magnetic forces will finally unite them back into one. But then, how else do you explain love?
Tonight’s proposition, a vaguely stream of consciousness ramble: In recursive fashion, I’ve been thinking about the inordinate amount of time I spend thinking about women. I’m basically women’s biggest fan. Female Doctor Who? Bring it on. Black female James Bond? Down with that too. It’s slightly curious that anyone would be outraged by seeing talented and attractive women. There’s something about all of them. However, currently the prospect of any deep and meaningful relationship (I actually really dislike this word, it’s droll and lacks any kind of charm of resonance, let’s go with ‘cherish’) on some level terrifies me. I remain emotionally unavailable. For the life of me, I can’t really figure out why this is. I know some truly remarkable women: intelligent, talented, multi-faceted, driven, kind, considerate, empathic, loving. The qualities go on and on.
I find myself smitten with a married woman. On some level this is because there is a safe distance. It’s mutually beneficial. We catch fleeting glimpses of each other. A secret love song. I am not driven by some rakish desire here. I genuinely care about this woman. Yet, I’m never quite as emotionally available as I’d like to be. I know inevitably, one day she will be gone. Beyond ‘dirty sex sessions’ on some level, we can never be. Like most women, her beauty is not made up of only shapes or forms, it shines from within like the stars. Like all the women I have known she is a dazzling beauty. Some chodes may disagree (not that I remotely care what they think) they may even object. ‘Well I don’t see what the fuss is about.’ But when I see and think about her and these women they are glorious, radiant, spectacular, and perfect, because, I am not limited by only my eyesight. But on some level, I am broken.
Somewhere along the line I have combined an incurable romanticism with a ticking clock, counting the days until somehow, she realises I am not emotionally available, or that I am fundamentally broken, or that there is no future, or the light she expected at the end of the tunnel wasn’t quite as bright as she thought it would be. We catch fleeting glimpses. Still, just like the rest, she will always be a goddess to me. I will always believe in her.
‘Circumstances do not make a person, it reveals them.’
‘You do not attract what you want; you attract what you are.’
‘People are anxious to improve their circumstances, but unwilling to improve themselves; they therefore remain bound. The person who does not shrink from a self-crucifixion can never fail to accomplish that on which the heart is set.’
‘A man who governs his passions is master of his world. We must either command them or be enslaved by them. It is better to be a hammer than an anvil.’ — St. Dominic
‘When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.’ – Lao Tzu
I was thinking about ‘self-development’ after the Coolio post I wrote a few days back. I was the kind of kid who was bullied pretty much constantly through school for one reason or another. I was always ‘different’ and different in school usually means having your shit handed to you. Strangely, I did have a spell hanging out with the ‘cool’ kids. One of them and I will occasionally see him from time to time and talk to him was and is a GENUINELY fucking cool guy. Not the kind of ‘cool’ where you’re on a fast-track to a life of crime or some shit, but genuinely fucking chill with time for everyone and with really good vibes, you know? So, this came about when I was maybes eleven or twelve and a few of us went to the cinema and one of the girls who went to primary school with us was friends with a girl who at the time everyone considered insanely hot… somehow, a game of dares came about and I ended kissing this really hot girl. My first kiss incidentally. Nonetheless, the ‘cool kids’ at school were fucking staggered by this, so I was in the ‘crew.’ I mean, I was a tubby, shy, pre-teen but now that I was ingratiated with the ‘cool kids’ by sheer fucking luck, I did enjoy a spell of playing spin the bottle and kissing the attractive girls from the all-girl school nearby along with my cool friend setting me up with various girls on the ‘nappy night’ at a local club for adolescents. You honestly couldn’t make this stuff up. Someone made a comment to me not so long back about a woman being out of my ‘league.’ I was genuinely bewildered by this and thought this comment was hilarious, as kissing pretty girls is all that I have ever known. Whilst this may have origins in total dumb fucking luck, if you’ve ever read Malcolm Gladwell, so does Microsoft and Bill Gates’ billions, just because he happened to be born at exactly the right time and at the right place and just happened to have dubiously convenient access to one of the only computers in the state at the time etc.
Strangely, this isn’t the only time something of this nature has happened to me by chance. As I said, I was pretty much a fucking tubby dork. I got a Saturday job when I was sixteen and on some work night out on a Sunday, I wound up with this dude from there who had a reputation as some kind of notorious player and ended up going back to a house with a couple of women. That was my first experience of finger-blasting a woman and almost plunging my dick in too. I didn’t really have a clue what I was doing, I didn’t really have a clue how I was supposed to go about any of this, but I’d recently just read ‘The Dirt’ about Motley Crue and thought, ‘What would Tommy Lee do?’ so just kind of ran around the house naked whilst notorious player was banging the other girl hahahahahahahaha. I was also greeted by police on my return home on the Monday morning after ignoring about fifty phone calls from my mother, she decided to report me missing, and then got dragged up before the head-of-year at Sixth Form for not showing up. Good times. I used to go drinking with my cousin on a Friday night, and we’d hit up the club and I basically emulated what I’d witnessed from notorious player dude. Storming around kissing the girls and finding that finger-blasting women in clubs was surprisingly easy. Even when you were a hardcore dork the other 99.99% of the time. I started talking to another guy I met at work and I told him about my antics which he found fucking hilarious. The dude – who I’m still friends with – was six years older than me, 22 at the time, and basically he kind of took me under his wing. Although some of this was for his own amusement because I was fucking ridiculous. Now, this guy put notorious player to fucking shame. Not because he was a player, he wasn’t – and isn’t, he was much worse than that. This was next level. The guy didn’t give a fuck. He was absolutely relentless and would bust on women hardcore with shit I’d never heard before and I’ve never heard since. I was fucking shocked, like, ‘Ohhhh my geerrrddd, you can’t say that.’ He’s like a 6’2, really good looking guy, but that doesn’t really have much to do with it. There’s plenty of tall, good looking people who don’t get laid. Sure, it undoubtedly helped that a lot of women would hit him up and start talking to him. However, that’s like having a match ticket. It’ll get you to the game but you still have to turn the fuck up.
The first time I went clubbing with this guy was an experience. It was one of the worst nights I’ve had. Like, I’d had some success running around this tacky as fuck club with my cousin, then we went to this club (it’s the one from the Coolio post) and no-one would even look at me hahahahaha. Omg everyone is like so uptight. Actually, part of the reason for this is that I didn’t feel comfortable myself and I was out of my comfort zone and ‘natural environment’ – and I was actually kind of uptight myself and it was like, oh I can’t just go up to women and say ‘do you want to kiss me.’ Boom result. I mean, certain environments are certainly more conducive to that kind of stuff, but there’s more to it than that. The club I’d been going to played all this fucking cheesy music. This actually reminds me of something my dad said to me when I was younger when we were at some show and ABBA came on and all the women were up dancing and singing along to it, ‘All women LOVE ABBA… they know all the words and will dance to it.’ Inherently, this kind of stuff makes for a good environment if you want to kiss the gurls because EMOTIONS are already going UP. I mean, I’m actually having a pretty bad day and I just put some ABBA on out of due-diligence and my mood is now through the roof hahahahahaha. But ultimately that is what this is all about, EMOTIONS must be going UP all of the time. I mean, when I think of some of the worst dates I’ve been on, there’s ones where things have been going well and then you go to some bar or place that is ‘cool,’ atleast in the ‘ooooh I can take some cool pics for Instagram’ sense, but the mood suddenly sinks and you lose your upward emotional momentum (there’s probably a term for this) and there’s kind of a fucking lull which is difficult to lift and things stall and you’re like ‘ooohhh my god what do I do???! :((‘ Maybes that’s just me. It’s kind of like foam parties and the shit women will do at those which I can’t even really talk about. Emotions are on the UP and people will consequently do crazy shit. Huzzah. So to paraphrase Bruce Lee, ‘Be like a foam party y’all.’ Nonetheless, other than the environment and the music as the Coolio post suggests, this place was different but it wasn’t different when you got used to it and you were in the right mindset. I mean, my friend who I’m talking about here would just storm around and not give a fuck. He just wanted to have fun and get laid and was relentless wherever he was. Same rules apply. Diva was no different really and ultimately you could still do shit like kiss all the girls including in front of their boyfriends and sleep with all of your exes friends etc. Incidentally, I don’t think that kind of stuff is cool anymore. It’s just a cheap fucking hit. Like Axl sez, ‘I met an old cowboy, I saw the look in his eyes, something told me he’d been here before, because EXPERIENCE makes you WISE.’ My friend here though, he’s really interesting because like I said in the post before last, it’s not about the 0.01% you’re with a woman, it’s the other 99.99% and in terms of attitude and lifestyle, he was just cool as fuck and liked what he liked. That was crucially important. Other than a brief spell where he did become a little bit more ‘scene’ with the haircut, leather jacket etc while I went in the opposite direction, overall, he was cool enough to overcome this brief lapse, as overall he had a fucking solid mindset and plenty of cool, good shit going on. He kind of unconciously summed this up himself once when we used to go to another bar on a Thursday night and he started talking about the DJ’s there. ‘They just play stuff THEY like.’ (It was also stuff we liked too, so it was a fucking happy medium: Rolling Stones, Sonic Yoof, Pixies, Breeders etc. This was around 2005 I think when there was a pretty decent scene and these people were just playing stuff made by heroin addicts between 1962 and 1994. No fucks were given.) It’s a crucial distinction though but one worth emphasising. There is a huge difference in what you’re projecting when it comes from a place of trying to IMPRESS someone which is really what a lot of the scene stuff is about whether some people admit it or not – ultimately it is about IMPRESSING upon people that you’re ‘cool,’ (obviously there’s other factors at play in terms of the social context and the people who pull this stuff off will usually have their own creative take on it – at which point it does become EXPRESSION) and just EXPRESSING what you like, what you’re into etc. As an example of this, I regularly see a guy around who I used to go to school with, who is always dressed like a fucking Topman mannequin. No exceptions. While you’re on one hand thinking, ‘Okay, he’s dressed decent.’ You still have the distinct impression that there’s something slightly incongruent about this. Like, his style is being dictated by what NME or some shit thinks is good, rather than wearing stuff that he thinks is ‘good’ or which he would be more comfortable in, and as a result would be more of an expression of himself. This is actually part of the way to what I would describe as chodish behaviour. When someone plugs themselves into some quasi-Borg hive mind. This certainly isn’t an indictment of being well groomed or ‘dressing well.’ I could walk around an expensive shop and pick out a dozen t-shirts, shirts, jumpers, trousers in yellow, pink, orange, mauve etc and they may look fucking great, if I put them on, it would be incongruous, because wearing vibrant, overly ostentatious, bright colourful clothing isn’t *me.* I can certainly stretch as far as vibrant and outgoing and wouldn’t be beyond wearing a few outlandish things for the craic as it were, but I still have a conservative streak. This is conveyed in how I usually dress. I pick things I naturally like.
‘The moment that you feel that, just possibly, you’re walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself. That’s the moment you may be starting to get it right.’ – Neil Gaiman.
There’s a lot that you can actually take from this post in terms of vibe, how you view yourself, being a challenge, not giving a fuck and ultimately just being someone who is FUN.
The reason this kind of stuff is interesting to me is because since my first breakup where I was basically fucking tooled by this girl, I swore that it would never happen to me again (it did and it probably will happen again :)) I think at the time, I kind of wanted to get back with her too though, so I got hardcore into self-development and trying to figure shit out to make myself invincible and infallible. The last time I actually saw her, I was with my ex. In terms of how the latter part of this worked out and the level I subsequently went to as a result of shit like this, it would be kind of like training for ten years and gaining 150 pounds of muscle to fight a schoolyard bully. 🙂 As it happens, my friend got one of the most hardcore toolings I’ve ever known he actually lost his job and found out his girlfriend was an escort on the same DAY. This guy could lose like a hundred grand and be like, ‘hahahahahahaha time to fuck hahahahahaha.’ Totally unphased (like I said, the dude is fucking emotionally solid because he has a full fucking foundation, which leads to the self-confidence in himself which is imperative to this stuff) where as at the time in my life, I would have been probably emotionally scarred hahahahahaha and fuck knows what lengths I would have gone to, then.
The consistent attributes you will find with amongst the people I have described are:
Assertive, honest, authentic, unreactive, in control of their own shit, they own it, they ‘punch through the wall,’ as in they don’t doubt themselves, they believe they will invariably be successful and they are just generally fun people. When you are with them they are bringing something to the party and emotions generally only ever go UP rather than the reverse. You generally feel good when you are around them.
Anyway, I’m back in a good frame of mind, so off to listen to some moar ABBA.
The part of the book I’m really struggling with is the part based around my last relationship. The wounds are still possibly a little too fresh or I haven’t fully contextualised it, rationalised it, whatever. I was thinking about how we met. I said one thing, she said another and that was it. We were basically together. Following on from my previous posts, I was thinking about ‘why’ that was. Most of what I said in the previous posts about having other shit going on your life equally applies. From a personal point of view, at the time I was in a good headspace for me. Basically all I really wanted to do was be alone and play guitar. I was fully content in myself. I mean, I fucking suck more dick when it comes to playing guitar than a prisoner at Abu Gharib prison, but that is entirely besides the point. It is something that I LOVE doing. Like, I just love messing around on the fucking thing and blasting out a few notes. I mean personally, I only own LEAD GUITARS, these come complete with fucking pentatonic and Phrygian scales . I do not own any RHYTHM guitars, which are the type usually most popular amongst more introverted types than myself who like to play CHORDS. Know the difference. Hennyway. This is like my idea of heaven. So fucking relaxing. It kind of reminded me of something amazing I saw during the summer. I was in a bar called the Sir Colin Campbell in Kilburn, London. This is a bar in a hardcore Irish area of London and I love me some fucking trad music. This place is like the BEST for Irish trad music in Britain. The leader the trad group is this guy called Mick Flynn. He’s like this old guy, but he’s fucking fascinating. I mean, he just sits there talks and talks and talks, fucks around with his various instruments, dipping his water pipe into his beer because that is ostensibly what it requires to make the thing work and then rubbing some beer across the skin of his ancient Bodhran because that ‘loosens it up.’ Some of what he says is difficult to understand because he has a strong ‘culchie’ accent, but he has stories that could go on for days. He has an inflection in his voice and by the passion, tone and manner in which he speaks, you just have the general impression that you’re missing out on something that is GOLD. You nod and agree anyway, and then wait for the next sentence you understand. He talks about places he’s travelled to, he is saying something about Thailand and temples and how he went with his girlfriend, or perhaps his girlfriend is from Thailand. Who the fuck knows? He starts to sing. It’s pretty evident that he’s been doing this for decades. He’s good and this guy must know fucking thousands of songs. The trad band play through their extensive repertoire and they are excellent. I walk to the bar and strike up a conversation with some gentlemen from Belfast. We discuss Ireland. There is a lull in proceedings. Then Mick begins to sing. Intermittently playing his water pipe which he has been dipping into his beer repetitively. I look over to my right and see a young man and woman. The young man wears a striped shirt. He sniggers at Mick. He does not understand what is happening here. However, the young woman he is with looks mesmerised. Mick is singing ‘Sam Hall’ or something like that. Anyway, it is irrelevant. In this place, Mick is a superstar. This is HIS world.
‘Violinist “A” is a bachelor, twelve o’clock, slim-hipped, broad-shouldered, suave—in other words, a typical Hollywood stereotype of a gypsy, who has a job serenading diners at the Bit ofTransylvania, a restaurant with atmosphere. As Laszlo (for that is his name) lovingly caresses his fiddle’s “erogenous zones,” the women present gaze longingly, their once-hot stroganoff mouldering cold on its plate. “For heaven’s sakes,” complains hubby, “eat your dinner.” The words die unheard, though, as all female eyes are on Laszlo making love to his violin. Little does Laszlo need any of those women right now, as his heart is taken.’
Mick sings majestically. The young woman maybes forty years his junior has little cartoon birds fluttering around her head. Love hearts in her eyes. The man has soul.
I mean, I have nowhere near the talent that Mick has. This isn’t really the point. The reason I mention this is because when I got with my ex, the last thing I was interested in or wanted was a girlfriend. I was just happy doing my thing, playing my music (badly) and getting on with my life. I was truly happy and content being alone. Actually, the worst thing you can probably do to get a girlfriend is actually want one.
That’s why you’ve got to become an individual who is autonomous and self-fulfilled. I mean you’ve got to be socially-savvy – not just with women – so that you live a lifestyle of abundance, and then come from a place where you actually OFFER VALUE to women and everyone else instead of being YET ANOTHER dorky guy who throws himself down at her feet. In my case, it wasn’t until I was totally happy just DATING and even BEING WITHOUT a woman that suddenly women started popping out from behind bushes wanting to be my girlfriend. Like, I discovered something that was actually BETTER and more satisfying than being in a relationship.
Prior to that, I couldn’t have gotten a girlfriend to save my life…. 🙂
So that is my focus. Learning to be content in myself and love myself again. Working on other things I LOVE: writing, developing my creativity, music, my guitars, developing that aspect of myself and one day actually getting good hahahaha, my trad music, training, weightlifting – getting strong like the fucking love child of Dmitry Klokov and Lü Xiaojun, my boxing, RIPPED ABS, reading, broadening my mind, my lifestyle, travelling around a little bit more, cooking, my house, my car, working on my finances… I have to get back to that mindset and learn to be happy again and doing the things I actually LOVE.
The other side of this is the stuff I put in the previous post. It’s all part of the project.
So, for all of those who can’t read the base-code of the universe (I’m such a fucking nerd0rk):
What is this magical “script” you ask??
It’s really very simple…
1) Live Your Life
2) Enjoy Women’s Company
3) Assume Absolutely Nothing
3B) ASSUME ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING.
It’s all about being fucking cool again, and letting the women do the chasing for the relationships.
Back to the music.
In which Michael ponders the wisdom of his twenties, discusses Insta famous dogs (!), Scandinavian staircases and looks to the future.
This is pretty much the ‘New Year resolution’ post roughly a month and a half early. It’s going to be a tough read as I like to write these things pretty much ‘stream of consciousness,’ as personally I think that’s how I get the most personal benefit out of writing these things. When I let my mind run I tend to get insights I might not necessarily get if I’m writing in the de rigeur fashion. So yeah, it’s not necessarily going to flow as beautifully in parts. So why start doing ‘2018 New Year resolutions’ a month and a half early? Because you shouldn’t fucking wait around and just think that 2018 is going to be any different, and at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve you’re going to have some kind of dramatic paradigm shift, where suddenly everything is going to be transformed. You have to start NOW. Plus, I don’t want to be part of the way through 2018 still choding around with certain goals and aspirations which will take around several months. Also, it’s better to hit the New Year on point and already in a fucking upward loop.
A lot of the stuff I want to do is kind of a ‘back to basics’ crash course. I want to get back to a similar kind of attitude and ethos I had in my early to mid twenties but I want to do it better. In many respects a lot of aspects of my twenties were fucking tense, some of it a train wreck and I don’t want to go back to that. However, in my early twenties I had an admirable attitude and dedication towards training and learning which I would like to get back into. Along with my general easy-going, carefree, tolerant, WIN/WIN, NON-JUDGMENTAL ACCEPTANCE, live in the NOW attitude, before my mindset was at some point seemingly overtaken by MATERIALISM, office politics, heavy workloads, cynicism, becoming judgmental as fuck (believing it gave me an edge), and at times heavy anger. This is easy when you get into positions which pay well and afford you a good lifestyle. You can become complacent as fuck and ‘unaccountable.’ You get into this kind of decadent, hedonistic mind space where you can basically just do whatever the fuck you want. Buying shit just becomes a crutch. It’s like comfort eating. Can’t be bothered to go to the gym? Buy expensive, extravagant clothes. Don’t like cardio? Get a cool car. Feeling bad about yourself? Buy electrical items etc. It’s like comfort eating a chocolate bar, you get that quick boost and insulin spike before crashing back down, but you had your quick hit so you can just push it to the back of your mind, without feeling *too bad* about yourself. It becomes a cycle when you’ve gained the proverbial few stone but still keep doing it. I basically did this for four years with only intermittent periods of coming to my fucking senses in between. I got so fucking complacent and entitled. This ultimately culminated in meeting someone who was in love with me, but essentially taking that shit for granted and ruining a serious relationship. The warning signs had always been there from early on. I had previously met a really great woman from Manchester in 2011 who I dated, and one of the first things she said to me was that I ‘just throw money at problems.’ She was wise. I want to get back into the frame of mind where I can just draw fulfilment from within and be happy and appreciate what I’ve got. This is crucially important. I’ve made strides towards that this year but I want to escalate it over the next 12-15 months. In my aforementioned early twenties, I read a lot of Eckhart Tolle which was extremely beneficial to me in helping me move forward in my life. I mean, I found it so beneficial that I even had a song in his honour, ‘I’m bringing Ecky back, all those other boys dunno how to act.’ Nonetheless, one of the ‘downsides’ of Tolle is that he is evidently someone who couldn’t actually give a shit about money. Like, he’s someone who would probably be quite happy and content living in a fucking cave… if he doesn’t already. So the thrill for me of actually *having* some money was like, ‘oooohh this is new’ and in doing so I quickly forgot everything that had brought me to the fucking party to begin with.
Aesthetically, I want my fucking RIPPED ABS back and some fifteen inch biceps. Weight will provisionally be 12.5 stone. I’m going to start going to the gym literally every fucking day again so it becomes a deeply engrained habit. I will do this. Slightly more difficult, I also want my cool ‘tall hair’ back. I’m at the point where my barber is essentially acting as a fucking palliative care nurse, but ignoring conventional reality and perseverance is nine tenths of the law of the jungle. There has really been little to no emphasis on my appearance for a few years. Frankly, it’s fucking irrelevant, but it’s something I want to do for ME. For any chodes reading this, how you look has zero impact on meeting women. Well, it certainly doesn’t when you’re cool as fuck like me (hahahahaha) and your lifestyle – which you’re now trying to undo – has resolved around spending fucking fortunes on shit like Scandinavian staircases. Netflix and chill is for losers. ‘Come to my house and check out my Scandinavian staircase and meet my Insta famous dog.’ Sez I. ‘Is he really Insta famous?’ Sez she. ‘Fuck no. He thinks that shit is for chodes. He is too busy hanging around with his hot and scary Doberwoman girlfriend. He has a real dog modelling contract and goes to shows and shit. Here’s a pic of him on my STAIRCASE.’ Sez I. ‘Ooohhhhhhh my fucking god, he is sooooooo handsome.’ Sez she. ‘Heheheh yeah. Cool I’ll come and pick you up.’ Sez I. ‘Please hurry etc.’ Sez she.
I am going to get back to reading a book a week. I’m pissed off at myself this year, as amongst other things, on most days I have an insane commute but have only actually read maybes eight to ten books cover to cover. I will draft a list. ‘Aaaahm bringing Ecky back.’ I’ve got to get back into HEAVY reading too. Like, when I think about it, I actually MISS reading hardcore literature like Joyce.
Moar guitar. I have to refocus on my music. I haven’t done enough this year. This is unfortunate as last year guitar was all that kept me sane. I’ll probably have to sell a couple and just content myself with my Gibson Les Paul, Telecaster and 1988 Malmsteen Strat with the brass nut and scalloped fret board.
I was talking to someone about self-development recently and it was interesting. In many respects I have to get back to outlining the stuff I want to DO. I mean, fuck, it’s not like I’m just going to entirely give up on buying cool shit, but like I said, I have to APPRECIATE what I have first and when I do, I want it to be more of a REWARD, so again, I can appreciate it, rather than it being a mindless fucking indulgence.
I mean, it’s no exaggeration to say that I have got the facilities at hand to become an extremely successful, talented person… I have a fucking first class library I’ve built over a number of years, resources, quality instruments, tools, access to FIRST CLASS gym facilities literally right across the country along with free travel which pretty much opens up most of the fucking country to me, I don’t really have excuses here. On the other hand, there’s the fact that this is not all about DEVELOPMENT, it’s about stripping things away too. I want to get back to the proper mindset.
I’ve also got to get a proper holiday in next year. This year, aside from a couple of trips to Ireland, I only got as far as Cornwall. Not that there was anything wrong with Cornwall, (a total trip time on the train of around 16 hours was pretty fucking gruelling though) but getting back to somewhere FOREIGN with vibrant colours is definitely called for.
‘In which Michael gives an insight into his awesome magical powers after growing weary of a chode who hath been talking jive.’
I’m tired of a self-proclaimed NICE GUY who we will refer to here as ‘Chodezilla’ talking shit about me to people. Chodezilla lives by the opus, that the best way to get ‘laid’ is by *saving* women from ‘assholes.’ Actually, I suspect that on some level this person doesn’t even want to get laid, which is why he fucking doesn’t, but we will leave that to Ronda Byrne and Teh Secret. He just wants someone to looove him and he thinks the best way of going about this is by being a fucking chode. There is also the possibility that this person is on some level just some kind of a masochist who wishes to live in some almost asexual, female induced personal torment. My own personal opus is that the best way to get ‘laid’ is by actually being a fun person living a good life, and as a result you know, having fun.
The shit that this person says about me is ridiculous. He recently told me that a woman I was dating would ultimately regret seeing me because I’m a ‘balding’ douchebag hahahahaha. This is interesting in itself, I mean, first off, it’s pretty fucking hilarious how he mentions something about me that doesn’t conform to perceived standards of beauty, and as a result because I don’t conform to what HE believes is the correct standard of beauty for MEN no less, I must THEREFORE have a bad time in life (hahahahahaha) and that I also therefore shouldn’t talk to women, or just as pertinently, they shouldn’t talk to me. Chodes like this aim to suppress the confidence of people. This is the kind of person who would fuck up the confidence of someone who wanted to talk to a woman because presumably people have done that to him. Like some kind of cycle of pain. I mean, I know some weak minded people and having someone giving them this kind of negative shit and doing what he is doing to me, like going up to women and telling them about how much of a mean person ‘Mikey is,’ just so they will call you out on it, would completely fuck up their confidence.
As for the NICE GUY shit… that is just some self-serving, manipulative bullshit, right there. You know, when you can only be ‘nice’ when it serves your own manipulative agenda, you’re actually not really nice at all, just kind of cynical, negative and cunty. Similarly,when we had the charity whip-round because someone was running a half-marathon for a child with lymphoma and I took it upon myself along with a couple of other to ENSURE everyone donated to this because one) it’s for a small child with lymphoma and two) someone has actually gone to the trouble of training and running a half-marathon… only one person didn’t donate, because ‘charity starts at home.’ Guess who that was? Yep. He accused me of ‘intimidating’ and ‘guilt-tripping people’ into donating money and called me an ‘asshole.’ In context of a fairly small space, we raised something ridiculous like £300.00 in around an hour. I’m up on some shit like, ‘Okay, what’s your address, how much am I putting you down for?’ Assuming that sale, not giving people the option of saying no. Coffee is for closers yo. If you’ve ever read Influence by Robert Cialdini, there was undoubtedly a degree of ‘Everyone else has donated, so I should.’ However, only NICE GUY was so fucking sensitive with regards to being ‘intimidated,’ ‘guilt-tripped,’ ‘harassed.’ Whatever. Cute that he made something like raising money for a terminally ill child about his overly-sensitive feelings, though.
Chodezilla is a person who messages MODELS on twitter and tells them how beautiful they are. He is currently trying to capture the hearts of various women. Again, this mostly entails telling them how beautiful they are and posting sub-tweets on social media, to little (no) avail like:
For the sake of it, we will see momentarily how some ‘balding douchebag’ met a beautiful woman, with a PURE HEART who went on to become his girlfriend n’aww (if we’re gonna do ‘conventional standards of beauty’ too, she was also blonde haired, blue eyed, 5’10 with model good looks, slim, enormous breasts and unless you live in a big city, you probably haven’t seen someone as physically attractive in the past few months if not this year). Ultimately, there is a distinction, and that is something like chodes try to IMPRESS women to get women to like them; people who aren’t chodes and who get laid EXPRESS themselves and draw a woman into their world. They aren’t just trying to intrude on a woman’s shit, they have their own world, standards, values etc which is extremely attractive. It’s kind of like having your own personal club/zen garden of self-indulgence. ‘If someone can’t join your club, they will do anything to get in.’ The best media depiction I’ve seen of this kind of attitude/mindset is Mr Big on ‘Sex and the City’ who is a total fucking boss. I mean, it may possibly be interesting to look at the men of ‘Sex and the City’ on some kind of Randian spectrum à la The Fountainhead at some point, like, ‘the man who never will be’ because he does not own his shit, and does not have his own values etc, ‘the man who could be’ i.e the one with his own values and world views but who supplicates to some degree and is something of a fucking sell-out. Nonetheless, Big was THE Howard Roark of that shit. To be attractive to a woman, have something better to do than attracting a woman. Anyway, here is how a balding douchebag met the magical angel princess:
Here’s how Chodezilla would’ve done it:
Chode: you very beautiful xoxo
Her: (best case scenario) thanks
If you can’t see the difference then I feel bad for you son, I got 99 problems but explaining this shit ain’t one.
(It’s something to do with being comfortable enough in yourself to just throw out ridiculous stereotypes and sit back and be all like, ‘I am Michael hear me roar, I am so cool, I can tell you’re going to LOVE me, actually you probably already do’ though.)
It’s not like there’s anything wrong with being all ‘romantic’ per se, I mean I’ve recently ‘dramatised’ a conversation for the book, with an extremely attractive lady who is doing a PhD (excerpt forthcoming). Incidentally, if you don’t believe in ‘horoscope compatibility’ shit, you will after you see what the extravagant mating ritual of two fucking Leo’s looks like.
I suppose it just helps if you listen to what someone is actually saying, rather than responding and reacting to how they look. What would I know though? I’m just some ‘balding douchebag.’ Hahahahaha.
If you want women to like you… well actually, for a start, you shouldn’t be worrying about what anyone thinks about you or whether people like you. It’s none of your fucking business. If you’re actually bringing something to the ‘party,’ and you have something of value to ‘offer,’ then they just will.
Sometimes women will even have sex with you at parties whilst their boyfriends are downstairs.
I didn’t actually realise they were dating at the time and subsequently I did kind of feel sorry for this guy after she ultimately left him for me. Bizarrely, I ended up developing a little bit of a friendship with him. He was a good guy, well intentioned but such is life. He was a pretty interesting guy actually, because he was this person who was almost hyper-rational. He was super analytical and took great pride in how ‘intelligent’ he was. I found this fascinating. Like, he said to me something along the lines of ‘if you give a woman everything that she needs, she should stay with you. I can not understand this.’ He was also the kind of person who used to send her texts like, ‘The reason you are so attracted to me is because of pheromones, because you can smell that I am a healthy, strong male.’ Not even joking. Incidentally, this was while she was lying in bed next to me one morning. Anyway, I digress, he wasn’t actually giving her everything she ‘needed.’ I mean, the kind of ‘intelligence’ he was ultimately lacking here was social-intelligence and some cognitive empathy. While a lot of chodes will let their feels run wild and completely lose all rational thought, this guy was like the total fucking opposite. What this woman wanted was fucking ‘drama.’ You could figure this out in about five minutes by listening to what she was talking about. It didn’t require a fucking degree in psychology to figure out. It’s like how you will get people who will complain about shit and bitch about things constantly. People get addicted to certain states of mind. I work with these people. I see them day in, day out. They live for fucking drama. So for all this guys protestations and surprise about how he looked after her, treat her well, satisfied her sexually, had an eight inch cock (!) etc, he was seriously lacking in one important department for her. He said to me, ‘I used to make her squirt, though.’ I didn’t have the heart to tell him that everything I know about sex, I learned from Squirters 2.
You do generally find that when you look at the dynamic of a lot of relationships, on the surface level, you generally think, ‘Why the fuck is she with him?’ More often than the reverse. Certainly, looks have little to do with it and it’s more a case of having something that is mutually beneficial between two people. Which is why texting women the lyrics to ‘Can you Feel the Love Tonight’ from the Lion King and buying flowers can only take you so far.
Thus, take some pride in your work, do a good job, buy a house, a car, get some decent threads, get a haircut, have a fucking shower, go to the gym, get a run in, ride a bike, get outdoors, do shit you enjoy, have fun, listen to music, sing some songs, make your own, read a book, challenge yourself, visit some places, broaden your horizons, develop your interests and talents, SMILE. Then if it’s still the case that no-one likes you, at least you’ll have ripped abs, a good vocabulary and a nice car to masturbate over, whilst listening to Lionel fucking Ritchie with a belt around yo’ neck, within the comfort of your own home.
Here’s the thing and the BIG QUOTE. Getting the woman of your dreams isn’t about the 0.01% of your life you spend ‘chatting her up.’ It is in the 99.99% of your life you AREN’T. It is in your general behaviours and the shit you are doing when you aren’t with women. It’s your attitude, how you treat people, the shit you’re interested in, what you do throughout your fucking day. You can’t be some negative cunty chode 99.9% of the time and then suddenly switch in on for that 0.01% of the time you meet some amazing woman who sets your heart racing. You can have the best ‘patter’ but ultimately you can’t expect someone to feel good EMOTIONS around you when you don’t feel them yourself. Ultimately it is going to come across as fucking incongruous, perhaps even fucking creepy. This goes for how you behave and treat EVERYONE. Little old grandpa’s, grandma’s, tramps… if you can’t manage your life and your own emotions and make your own self feel GOOD, then NO-ONE, that is: the girl of your dreams, little old grandpa’s, grandma’s, homeless people etc is GOING TO FEEL GOOD AROUND YOU FOR LONG. This is the kind of thing that leads into what is ultimately another huge chode trait: EMOTIONAL SUPPLICATION. Talking to attractive women to get validation. Because these people don’t feel good about THEMSELVES, they believe they can only get validation through the attention of attractive women. It’s not just that these people want to stick their dicks into women, but they want to attach their emotional umbilical chord to them too. So for example, when you ask some chode to sponsor someone who is running a half-marathon for a terminally ill child and they bitch you out about how charity starts at home and how you’re harassing and intimidating people, you know what I and everyone else is hearing? ‘I don’t get laid.’ EVERYONE is hearing that, because that is your REAL attitude the 99.9% of the time you’re not trying to seduce a woman, and you know what, even in that 0.01% of the time you are, she is still going to hear that too, because THE SELF IS ALWAYS COMING THROUGH.
Oh well, off to listen to Lionel Ritchie.
The first woman who broke my heart was called Lotte. She dumped my ass and then subsequently slept with Coolio after interviewing him for a magazine. I still hate Coolio to this day. I have never been one to take these things on the chin. I swore revenge. During the long summer of 2008, most of which was spent staring at the walls and reading French literature I constructed a plan. A quest. After all, nothing rebuilds your esprit like a quest. I decided I was going to sleep with EVERY single one of Lotte’s chode friends and drive them out of S’land forever. These people would congregate at Diva every Thursday night. I would seize my opportunity to destroy them.
I set upon my quest like a fucking warrior. I started going to the gym TWICE a day. Within a short period of time I went from being overweight to a RIPPED ABS hero. I then topped my new look off with absurdly big hair – later copied by Jedward, Elvis sunglasses, copious amounts of fake as fuck bling, a collection of Air Supply t-shirts and a MEMBERS ONLY jacket. I looked like a drunken rockstar on his way to the shops to buy condoms. Pretty fucking cool if you ask me. I then further transformed myself out of spite and vengeance from a quiet and bookish chubby chode into a sexual FREEDOM FIGHTA. I began launching myself around town with a steely determination and passion. It was such fun. Using my summer of reading fucking French literature to assist in formulating fantastically over-the-top and absurdly hyperbolic statements and compliments to capture the heart of maiden fayres. Even more absurd, it fucking worked. I quickly slept with 3 of the chode circle. Huzzah. I then moved on to the hottest of the group. An extremely bitchy blonde. This had previously concerned me. However, what I found over that summer and on that fateful evening as I made my gambit, surprised me. Sleeping with the hottest girls is EASIER as long as you aren’t phased by their shit. After running wild with stupid over the top hair and a fucking Members Only jacket for months on end with all the bullshit that goes with it, I wasn’t phased by anything. Myself and my friend The Butcher warmed up for the big night by playing the rejection game. The premise of this game is that you approach groups of women and try to get blown the fuck out as quickly as possible by making extremely cringeworthy and inappropriate remarks. The strange thing about this game is that the LONGER you play, the more DIFFICULT it becomes to get rejected. You usually end up with women just grabbing you, kissing you and shit. It was at this point I knew I was ready for bitchy blonde @ Diva. Four down. One to go. The best friend.
Then one afternoon during that summer, God smiled on me. I bumped into her. God must’ve hated the fucking chode circle too. I ran into the best friend Helen in town. Helen had initially been bitchy towards me and would make shitty remarks about me on MySpace. The first night I’d met Lotte in Diva, I’d stole her drink and told her to ‘Fuck off’ when she tried to take it back. She did not like me. However, this was fucking fate. I walked up and started talking to her. I looked her in the eyes, grabbed her hand and said, ‘Come on, I’ll give you the tour of Sunderland.’ We walked around for a few hours and then went to a bar. I found that I actually liked Helen better than all of those fuckers, including Lotte. She had style, class. We began messaging each other and then arranged to meet up again.
Whilst out with her, I found myself reticent and nervous to go for the kiss. Thankfully, I was now a RIPPED ABS hero and cool as fuck and she just got fed up and went in and kissed me first. VICTORY.
We dated for six months. However, there was no happily ever after.
Tune in next time for, ‘attracting and having women fall in love with you is easy, it’s what the fuck you’re supposed to do after which is difficult.’
It has been an interesting year. Last year was turbulent and I got my shit turned upside down. I was emotionally butt-fucked and at the end of it I was living day to day. After the cataclysm. This year was supposed to be about survival and rebuilding. However, I found myself somewhere I didn’t expect to be. While working for less money and no longer being able to afford, or at least justify three holidays a year (minimum), I found something. I found that for all the money I had made in the last six years, I was empty. Part of the reason my life seemed to collapse so spectacularly around me last year was that I’d become embroiled in a sense of vacuous materialism. I was fastidiously unable to appreciate what I had and I was taking everything for granted.
“Sometimes we lose our way (and find it again).”
To now find myself in the opposite situation is interesting. The money is less, but I actually enjoy going to work. I like the people I spend a large amount of my waking life associating with. I’ve developed some friendships. This in itself is novel. The overwhelming majority of my working life, actually, most of my life, has generally not extended much further than ‘professional relationships.’ I read somewhere recently that a ‘goal’ would be to develop a life where you don’t require a ‘vacation,’ to run away from it. In the midst of my interminable winter, I found just that. Like Camus (almost) said, there is an invincible summer, just around the corner waiting for you.
On another note, I started writing something a few weeks ago. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to publish in conscience. It dawned on me just how much I love women, and there’s a couple in particular where I think it’s gone beyond that, I have mythologised them for all of eternity. However, that’s a story for another invincible summer…