There’s this one girl...

She is stunning. She is smart. She is fit. And she’s an inspiration.

Okay, I barely know her. She modeled for me nearly a decade ago. And she looked fantastic in that green bikini. Most of all, I recall those abs.

Oh, she was also a drink slinger at a bar I used to frequent. Those were the days!

Fast forward to today. She’s a successful entrepreneur. Living her best life. Moving to San Diego with a second home in Kansas City—one she uses as a top tier AirBnB when she isn’t staying there.

And good for her! She hustles. She doesn’t let emotion cloud her decision-making process (too much). Honestly, her life is the inspiration for what I want! A true example of manifestation! And she’ll be the first to tell you to focus on the positive and dismiss the negative.

Admittedly, I don’t know much, yet I am starting to see the value in surrounding yourself with the right people. Yet, there’s a slight paradox my overthinking mind doesn’t hesitate to reveal to me—nearly instantly. If she is surrounding herself with the right people, and I am not yet “the right people,” and still struggling with stupid, stupid minutiae, then why would she want to mentor me?

How does one encourage someone to mentor himself, without convincing? How does one make this leap? Is positive manifestation enough to cross the chasm?

Can an old dog learn a few new tricks? And obtain that rich life he deserves?

You know what? This is my year. Let’s find out!

Obligation is a sin, but commitment is beautiful.

After many moons of floundering, I’m finally getting the ship turned around. I’m back on course. Or getting there.

They say hesitation will kill you. They are not wrong. It nearly killed me. I’ve learned one needs purpose. As glorious as it may feel, in the moment, to stay in bed—all day, the inactivity can be addicting. And maddening. Which provided me a glimpse of why too much “self care” is bad, and creates people you never see again. And eventually saps the motivation to do something relatively effortless, and potentially leisure enabling, like writing.

Ten pages become five. Five become one. One page becomes 300 words. Then 100. Then... well, I’ll do it tomorrow. Or Sunday. Or in September.

Reenter intention, stage left.

Okay, jackass. You have so many great ideas. And this book is going to be fucking brilliant! A modest seller, at least. It will enable you to buy that house you’re eyeing that goes on sale next month.

But...

You haven’t been working enough. You’re out of cash. And you no longer want to be where you’re at.

So, now it’s time for a second job. Positive cashflow. This poor writer narrative isn’t working for you. It may make you better, funnier, and more authentic, but it’s beginning to piss a lot of people off.

Finding something that isn’t an “obligation,” can be challenging, but I think I have found it. It was billed as “freedom.” And I believe that. Part time, with a lot of windshield therapy. Time to think. Time to take notes. Time to commit. Time to set goals.

As such, I am committing to walking away from my current situation on October 1, 2022. I don’t know what that looks like beyond that. All I know is I no longer want to live where I am living. A summer home in the north woods would be nice, even a permanent home; but travel is calling again. And those glorious Marriott beds.

So, it’ll be a summer of work, and limited travel. A means to an end.

What i'm listening to:

My 16th Apology
Shakespear's Sister
Hormonally Yours

Let’s call this a great experiment. A study of awareness. And a study of how things affect the human body.

I have abstained from alcohol since Wednesday.

My favorite girl is too. This “test” is bringing us closer together.

She is afraid she is an alcoholic. This, I understand, as I went through the same thing… until my roommate experiment a few years ago.

No. In this case, she is not an alcoholic. The alcohol is not what she is addicted to. Rather, it’s the numbness.

Like me, she is rather empathic. When you feel all of the extra vibrations outside of you, it is incredibly tempting to turn them off. If only for a moment.

Or to drink to excess, when they get overwhelming. It can be quite uncomfortable to sit in your feelings. And the vibrations you feel from others.

Yet, we need to learn to sit in these feelings. To improve. To understand. To turn life around.

What do I know? Admittedly, not much.

I cannot speak for her, as while I am checking in on her often, I am also giving her the space she needs.

For me, however, I have noticed the following:

My sleep has returned to a more normal six to seven hours a night. Good, restful sleep.

My appetite has also returned. And not in a way in which I am gaining unwanted weight.

With those two, the brain fog is also returning. It appears I was right about improper diet (however mildly), is dulling my focus and requiring naps.

And, I no longer see the matrix. A glimpse here or there, yes… but that “immortal” feeling has left. This. I don’t like.

I am hopeful that awareness can help guide me back into flow state when I need and/or desire it. As it has helped with both insomnia and cravings in the past.

Is this a determination to never drink again? No, not at all. It is a determination to listen to the universe, my environment, my body, my inner observer.

As Amy and I have discussed, we are both powerful manifestors, yet we are broken. It is time we learn to put this power to good use. We both deserve pleasure and joy.

I am convinced the universe will provide it, we just have to meet it somewhere in the middle.

It is, indeed, about the journey.

With all that is going on in life, the universe, and everything, it’s good to pause. To stop taking everything for granted. To be thankful for what you have. And in some cases, what you don’t have.

I, for one, am grateful for having found gratitude. Think about it. Just a little. It’s incredible.

I am grateful for the current roster of ladies in my life. Each of which brings her own unique talent and beauty into my life… and her viewpoint. It is through you ladies that I am FINALLY figuring out EXACTLY what I want in life. And I’m finally starting to remove what I don’t want. Even if and when you are put on waiver, it will be through true, pure, and unconditional love. And I will always adore you. And you. And you.

I am grateful for having found (at least) a li’l courage to try new things. So what if it doesn’t work out? For a moment, I embraced chaos… I became Kid Chaos. Now, I know how to move in the land of chaos. Even if I prefer more order. Besides, Kid Chaos tends to ruin lives. And no one deserves that.

I am grateful for discovering a community of truly extraordinary gentlemen. Brothers on a similar mission to recognize beauty in women, and indeed, in all other forms. But mostly women. Through these men, I have learned so much… including learning that I don’t want to think. It is better to feel. To understand without thinking. To erase the majority of society’s programming.

I am grateful for increased awareness. I feel immortal. I sleep less. I eat less. I feel fantastic. I am no longer afraid to tell her what I want from her. Or to walk away from obligations, or responsibilities that really don’t matter.

Finally, oh my Lord, I am grateful for feminine curves. Every single one of them. Every woman that walks by… I feel a stirring. And I love it. There’s a smile, a curve, a secret… is it so wrong to want to fuck every one of you? Isn’t that what we’re here for? It is as if she wore that red lipstick, and that dress, just for me.

What i'm listening to:

I’ll Be Around
The Spinners
Spinners

I could say, this is not something I need in my life. Yet… it is something to do. And it only takes five minutes, (usually) provides a nice endorphin boost, and occasionally inspires me to write something.

Clearly.

Why? Because it proves I am an overthinker. Beyond all doubt.

There are only x five-letter words out there. An innate understanding of how spelling rules in English work is helpful, because I can usually guess the word in three or four guesses.

Of course, there are those rarer words—which didn’t seem so in grade school, probably because they made ideal examples—with which you have four letters placed, and every possible consonant fits in that last spot. Then you are reliant on pure luck to get it in six.

Since I’ve been doing the Wordle (I am late to the party, as always), I’ve only been burned twice.

_ O U N D. Was the first. Do we always remember our first? (Hi, Teresa.)

I don’t recall the other.

Finally, today’s Wordle made me question my usage of the word: innate.

So, I looked it up.

in·nate (i·nāt′, in′·āt) adj. Native to or original with the individual; inborn.

Word usage IS important. English spelling rules cannot be innate, as they are learned. Yet, the UNDERSTANDING of said rules CAN be innate. Like those weirdos that understand mathematics and can figure the tip—in any amount or percentage—just by looking at the tab.

Me, I am that weirdo. Why else would I smash out 250+ words on this topic?

What i'm listening to:

Goin’ Down
Greg Guidry
Over the Line

She turned to me. Her big, brown eyes gazing into mine. She leaned in close, and said, “I will give you a baby.”

Time stood still. I held the eye contact. My hand on her leg, hers on mine. She is so beautiful. And she means it.

There is so much love between us. Overflowing. Spilling out into the room.

It is difficult not to act on the first impulse. Or the second. After all, we are in a restaurant. And I have never been so hard.

Yet, how incredibly sexy will that be? Taking her, right there on the table.

No, this is our moment. We don’t need an audience.

“Check, please!”

“I don’t want to see you again. Seeing you will only remind me that I have failed myself. Yet again.”

I wrote these words down an hour ago. I haven’t sent them anywhere. Why would I?

I lost my alabaster girl Monday night, during an amazing, liberating, and honest five hour conversation. I am sad. I am mourning. I am angry—although I feel I can’t be.

It’s the tale as old as time. As we got to know each other, it was lost. She no longer felt I was going to bend her over and fuck her.

She met someone. And he gave her that feeling.

Now, I feel immortal. My mistakes do too.

So, what’s next? I know the mourning process is normal—I really liked her.

I know I am in a better place than I was even a few months ago. I can start with that “I am going to fuck you energy.” But I can’t maintain it.

My emotions are raging like a tempest. I am not grounded. I feel like a charlatan. This is the worst feeling in the world: Losing her to someone who showed up. And I came through Monday night and Tuesday morning DRIVEN! God damn it, this will never happen to me again!

So, how can I go ahead and allow myself to grieve her loss, without losing myself to defeat? How do I hold on to this “I am going to fuck you energy,” even if it doesn’t happen the first night? As the quality of the women I meet improves, staying the same is no longer an option. I identify what’s wrong, I just don’t know how to hold onto it during the interactions.

You can’t understand how desperately I want one thing. Just one. And it’s not you, although (I do) I will devour you, given the chance.

No, what I want. Is to be that guy. The one she fantasizes about. The instant we meet.

Wait, that’s not it either. I know this.

I want to be the guy she wants to fuck. Girls know. Immediately.

Never? No, I don’t believe you. Maybe, I had it. For a minute.

However, I lost sight of it. That really is the only goal. Hell, maybe I was never the guy she’d fuck. I blew it? Yes. I should have said, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

The next guy did. I don’t want to be him. I only want to act as he did. Should I ever, ever, ever meet another like you, I do not want to lose another her to another him. Ever. Ever. Again.

Now, while I am raw, I’ve got it. Raw sexual energy. Now it’s time to harness it. Channel it. Use it.

Women get wet when I enter the room.

Women want to fuck me.

A girl like her will never look at a guy like me the same again. I WILL fuck the world. I WILL fuck you. I WILL bend you over into Downward Facing Dog and I WILL enter you from behind.

I owe it to myself to handle it. Here. Now. Anything less is wishes in my pocket.

It was a small memory. Of a choice. A conscious one.

Even though I eat healthy and limit the garbage, I still become sluggish after. Eating makes me tired.

And then, I observed that sleep frequently resulted in a deep fog. Lost clarity. And it takes time to reclaim the focus and return to a flow state.

So, I just stopped. Eating. Which worked. Next I was sleeping... less.

Seven hours a night dropped to ninety minutes.

And I’m fine. And clear. At first.

What would you do with an extra five hours a day? Especially if it occurs when all of your girls are asleep.

A lot of writing. Some of it beautiful. And some planning. And money making. Maybe I can do more of the latter.

Until the book is finished, at least.

Yet, one realization came too late. After my body began striving for a correction.

It is better to be consumed by darkness... than by love.

The nights became so long, because I was longing for restored connections. Obsession started creeping in. And other sinister energies.

Offsetting the flow state.

Now I know, however. The experiment will continue, focusing on my tesão over infatuation. And focusing on drive over wishing.

And listening to my body. It knows everything I do not.

Right now, it requires balance. So, full nights of sleep have returned. And my appetite. Yet, when normalcy arrives... I’ll do it again.

Now that I know—that I’m aware I did it—I won’t have the urge to tell others, and raise their concerns (and stroke my ego and neediness).

I am excited for the next round. When I’m ready. It’s sooner than I think.