That menstrual discharge that I called the last post disgusted me to my damn core. I’m surprised my dick didn’t recede into my body and leave a gaping vag in it’s wake. To those unfortunate few who read that filth, accept the above tokens of manliness to reconcile the difference. Woke up to push-ups, bacon, and Return of Kings. Legs still feel like linguini from the Jackknife Squats (only stage 2 progression in CC). Gonna run 3 miles in a few. I needed that feeling of disgust, I never want to feel that again. And I never want to share anything like that every again.
Ok, maybe she wasn’t the hottest girl there (and I’m still a little drunk), maybe a solid 8, but for the sake of full disclosure here we go. All of my friends left, at this relatively early point I’m flying solo (1:15 am) As I leave the bathroom I lock eyes with this slim, pretty. light skinned, spanish (she could be puerto rican, dominican, argentinian, etc… for all I know ) girl in a flower print blouse on the packed dance floor. This had to be at least the 3rd time I’ve seen her tonight and she’s always been dancing by herself in a crowd of people. Besides my bitch ass rationalizations, I felt bad for her. You could see the frustration on her face. (I mean wouldn’t you be confused and kind of angry if your ugly friends got more attention than you). I wondered why no guy has even attempted to dance with her, she doesn’t appear bitchy, no boyfriend, not drunk (maybe that’s the problem). There’s plenty of guys looking at her, and coincidentally I happen to be one of them. I’m slated to become one of my hated enemy, the ravenous pack of wall dwellers shielding themselves with their beer. As the lions vehemently hate the hyenas, I too hate this sect of bar culture. For the life of me I don’t know what stopped us and I’m sure a lot of guys will say “just approach brah”. As I smoked a cigarette outside she walked past me, alone, as her homely friend towed some lug home. We looked at each other again, she kept walking, I puffed the opportunity away.
I bitched out, plain and simple. It happens and I’m not afraid to admit it. I could have made this post a draft or private in an effort to get this off my chest, but fuck that. While I’ll forget about her before I even wake up today, I’ll say this. The old saying “rejection is better than regret” is true. Then again I’m somewhat drunk atm so take this for what it’s worth. Carpe Diem mofo’s.
“I’d been staying at the Holiday Inn with my girlfriend, honestly the most beautiful woman I’d ever known, for three days under a phony name, shooting heroin. We made love in the bed, ate steaks at the restaurant, shot up in the john, puked, cried, accused one another, begged of one another, forgave, promised, and carried one another to heaven.”
Rating: 5/5 Must Read
At 160 pages this book is a definite must read, as most of you will be able to finish it in one sitting. Denis Johnson can teach every writer a thing or two about how to begin and end stories as seen with the above quote, the beginning of the story Work. Johnson sucks the reader into the grimy realm of the world weary, drug addled, and chronically lonely. It’s almost as if you are the nameless protagonist(s), wandering the city late at night, working shit jobs, and sharing drinks at the local dive with other nameless folks at the end of the world. Sounds depressing but it’s anything but that. Surely some of you who have fallen off the tracks into the dark abyss can relate to the short stories presented. For the others who just want to visit there, this book will be your guide. Rich description and point blank prose make this a modern American classic. A new paperback copy is only $3.99 on Amazon, do yourself a favor and pick it up. If you’ve read Jesus’ Son I would love to hear your thoughts on it, drop a line in the comments on what you think.
“People entering the bars on First Avenue gave up their bodies. Then only the demons inhabiting us could be seen. Souls who had wronged each other were brought together here. The rapist met his victim, the jilted child discovered its mother. But nothing could be healed, the mirror was a knife dividing everything from itself, tears of false fellowship dripped on the bar.”
The journey of self improvement and the road to success while well worth traveling are both littered with obstacles and setbacks. It gets disheartening at times, you start to second guess yourself and that creeping sense of failure/ dread/ lethargy creeps in. It’s important at these crucial junctures to remind yourself of why you started this trek and what you want at the end of it. Money, power, fame, sex, personal fulfillment, happiness (whatever that means), you can have it if you’re willing to sacrifice enough and stay true to your goal.
Before someone jumps down my throat calling me a shallow materialistic pos I’ll say this. Yes I want to live in an aesthetically pleasing modern house, drive a fast sports car, and have beautiful women by my side, but I also want to be personally fulfilled, happy, healthy, have my friends/family well off, world peace, etc. Besides I can’t really photograph happiness and world peace so fuck that noise. Since I have so many pictures I would like to share with you all I’m going to make future posts categorized for you’re viewing pleasure (cars, awesome rooms/houses, beautiful women).
Flip over to 1:07 and watch a 200+ lb Kai Green bust out multiple free handstand pushups.
When you start Convict Conditioning you soon learn that your midsection is becoming ridiculously powerful. While guys in the gym focus on the aesthetics of their abdominal muscles, you aim for the “six pack from hell” as Paul Wade puts it. This consists of not only developed abs but also all the muscles of the waist including the obliques, transversus, psoas, intercostals and serratus, and the functional power that goes along with that. The midsection is just as the name suggests, a midsection between your upper body and lower body and you’re training follows this simple maxim. There is no isolation in your body therefore there are no isolation exercises in the CC program.
Week 1 looked like this: (Bold is the movement type, italics is the progression step, asterics is my difficulty level)
Monday: Push-Ups; Wall Push-Ups 3×50 (Step 1 *Moderate)
Leg Raises; Knee-ups 3×45 (Step 1 *Core Murder)
Wednesday: Pull-Ups; Vertical Pulls 3×40 (Step 1 *Easy)
Squats; Shoulderstand Squats 3×50 (Step 1 Bloody Fucking Murder)
Friday: Handstand Push-Ups; Wall Headstand 2 min (Step 1 *Moderate, warm up neck well beforehand)
Bridges; Short Bridges 3×50 (Step 1 *Easy)
Proper form and good breathing technique are key, if you don’t use those two then you’re only cheating yourself. For instance, keeping your feet together when performing wall push-ups, knee-ups, and shoulderstand squats gets your core burning in a fucking hurry. Exhaling on the push and inhaling on the pull is beyond necessary in the later reps. That’s the beauty of the program, most of us can jump straight to step 5: Full Push-Ups and beast those out, but if you start at step one on the wall you ensure you have perfect form when you get to them.
NO machines, NO supplements, No problem.
After finishing up my previous 6 week weight lifting program earlier this week I’ve decided on Convict Conditioning to be my next guide. After reading through the first 40 pgs or so I’m willing to put Paul “Coach” Wade’s book to the test. Despite all the attention paid to finding out his real name and identity the program is arguably one of the most accessible routes to increased strength. Based on bodyweight exercises and advanced calisthenics you can do it anywhere free of gym’s and machines. I see merit in his arguments from my own lifting experience. Injuries happen to every lifter regardless of proper form, due in part to unnatural movements and weight that the body is just not meant to handle. I start the Good Behavior program today and will provide updates weekly.
Along with a flowchart to track your progression.
*Update*: I completed the Friday workout.
Handstand Pushup; Step 1 Wall Headstands 2×30 sec
Bridge:Step 1 Short Bridges 2×25
The three girls dolled up in make-up and heels dancing in a circle while they desperately scan the floor for guys. One of them makes desperate eye contact with every guy who walks by to no avail. The 5′s, 6′s, and 7′s who end up alone all night with no male companionship in sight. The Female Beta post from a few months back rang clear and true tonight. I wish I could give all these women the
love fuck they deserve. I appreciate the time it takes for them to pick an outfit, cake up their faces, and waddle around in heels so we can stare at their asses. But alas, I am only one man, with one dick and I can only help so many of these forgotten women in one night. My lack of attention is not for their lack of trying, there are just more interesting prospects out there. Maybe it’s pride, after all, why forsake the sure thing. The one that falls into your lap early in the night. She might not be the best looking but this is a guaranteed notch. This is the way I see it,
Look at that majestic mother fucker. Picture him mid-stride chasing down a herd of gazelle. He runs past the sick and old to tackle the fastest one at the head of the herd. Why? Because he knows he can, because he can assert his will on his environment
Both sexes rationalize to themselves why they go home alone. I find it intriguing, the lies people tell to save face at the end of the night. The sad part is the guy in the uniform chode outfit (blue striped button up, jeans, sneakers) standing against the wall with his beer shield at max power is the same as the 7 who constantly scans the room. Both of them go out wanting to meet someone cool, someone interesting and sexy that they can make a connection with for one night. Instead of taking the chance on someone that could change their lives, they wander back home, lonely and angry.
Related Light Reading For Your Enjoyment: Women Who Don’t Get Hit On (The Female Beta)
Sometimes I’m that chode: The Hottest Girl In the Club And How I Bitched Out
Professor of Law at Notre Dame Law School G. Robert Blakey was commissioned to research the business practices of Amway aka Quikstar and it’s similarities to organized crime. Before he begins he defines the differences between organized crime enterprises, syndicates, and ventures. Many people use these as synonyms for each other while in reality each has a distinct meaning. Read it here.
“An organized crime “enterprise” is a criminal group that provides licit or illicit goods or services on a regular basis…An example would be a narcotics wholesaler and his cutting crew.”
“An organized crime “syndicate” is a criminal or related group that regulates relations between various “enterprises”. It may be metropolitan, regional, national, or international in scope. It may be concerned with only one field of endeavor or it may be concerned with a broad range of licit or illicit activities. A “syndicate” therefore is a cartel or business organization. It fixes prices for goods and services, allocates markets and territories, acts as a legislature and court, sets policy, handles disputes, levies “taxes”, and offers protection from both rival groups and legal prosecution.”
“A “venture” is a criminal episode usually engaged in for profit by a group. It may be the hijacking of a truck. Or the robbery of a bank.”
“It is organized crime when members of the “venture” have ties to a “syndicate“. This tie gives the “venture” access to superior criminal resources, including capital, skilled labor, outlets for stolen property, etc.”
Rational Male puts out another killer post. Still a young man, I haven’t given much thought about man caves, and banishment to the couch by my future wife. I haven’t seriously entertained the thought of marriage this young yet either I guess, unplugging will do that to a guy. There’s a saying I tell young(er) guys when they think they’ve found the one at an early age. If life is a race, you haven’t even arrived at the track yet, much less hit your stride.
The comments on on the RT article are worth reading, commenter fedrz forwards this
While I highly recommend the full reading since it’s only 3 paragraphs this excerpt sums the passage;
“For the truth is, that to the moderately poor the home is the only place of liberty. Nay, it is the only place of anarchy. It is the only spot on the earth where a man can alter arrangements suddenly, make an experiment or indulge in a whim. Everywhere else he goes he must accept the strict rules of the shop, inn, club, or museum that he happens to enter”
“For a plain, hard-working man the home is not the one tame place in the world of adventure. It is the one wild place in the world of rules and set tasks.”
Commenter Candide drops knowledge;
“It is a very modern Anglosphere cultural phenomenon that married men live like servants in their own homes. First they fail to own the bedroom. Note when a couple have a fight, the man will go sleep on the couch or go somewhere else for a few nights, leaving the house to the master aka wife. In contrast, in a patriarchal culture, the wife will get kicked out of the bedroom or usually go back to her parents’ for a little while until they make peace.
It’s only a natural progression that the servant must find his own small shitty place in the house to keep his things and practically live there unless called upon for house work, paying bills and defending it, sacrificed if need be, on behalf of the master. (emphasis mine)
One of my staff at work just did this. He works like a maniac to pay for the land and the house, doing most of the wiring and renovating himself. In the first big fight after moving into what is rightly HIS house, he had to scramble to find a shitty apartment to sleep for a week, and now is back at the house working on his dog’s corner, sorry, mancave, with the space permission from the lord and master.”
”When people feel entitled to something they dont generally feel like they have to earn it, and they generally dont go about trying to get it by tripping over themselves as being of service, or going to the edge of the world to impress someone, prove themselves to them, or even being noticed.
When you feel entitled to something you dont jump through hoops.
You expect those things to be handed to you for a little to no effort. Just for wanting them.”
There is so much right in that article my laptop exploded. I watch “nice” guys get LJBF’ed every day. Some in the covert “can you hold my books for me?” and some in the straight up overt “let’s just be friends” card after he drunkenly proclaims how he has loved and cherished her from a distance for the last few years. *shudder* It’s the raw end of the deal any way you cut it, but I never really sat down and thought of the real reason women despise them. Yohami breaks it down clearly in a few short paragraphs. Definitely worth the read, go for the article, stay for the comments.
StumbleUpon sends me here first:
4) I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
“Often they would not truly realise (sic) the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down.
“Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years.
“There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved.
“Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.”
That last line is pretty deep, “everyone misses their friends when they are dying”. The family I’ve fallen out of touch with, the women I never call back, acquaintances that want to be friends. All the people I waylay in pursuit of something else, something I value more than them at the moment. Will I regret it all right before I exhale my final breath, when it’s too late to change it all? Is it worth it?
I roll the thought around my head as I hit the button again and I get this…
StumbleUpon: Keeping cads and players on the straight and narrow since 2001.