It's only possible to speak to normal people when you are still partly normal yourself. Once you cross certain thresholds, it becomes impossible to empathize with them. The best bridges are built by people who need to build them the most, those who are still on the wrong side. That said, once you get to the other side, you find only wilderness, and most people don't thrive in wilderness.

I've thought about this lately. There is a massive lack of incel sympathy for ugly girls due to the fact that "someone will still find them attractive", and "they still all want chad", as if the sub5 men also don't also all want their own Gio Scotti. Being genuinely ugly as a woman must be one of the most terrifying body horrors I can imagine, because unlike a man you can practically do nothing else to make yourself more desirable. Men have charisma, status, money, humor, aura, style, things that can genuinely move the needle on female attraction but women almost exclusively have their looks. Every good trait a woman has besides her looks only matters in the context of her looks. Imagine being a sub5 foid and going to Miami, you literally wouldn't exist. You wouldn't be perceived. Women around you would be treated as royalty for just existing and you are nothing, and you can't do anything to become anyone. As a man you should always be grateful you were born a man. You were given agency and command over your own destiny. A woman has none of those things, she can cure cancer and it would raise her value by like 5%. She is only what she is and nothing more. BRUTAL

As long as I live I will never have sex again. My brief encounter with the "people" of the dating market has convinced me strongly of what I must do: commit myself even more strongly to monkhood.

Looking back, it's kind of crazy that every day for 88 years I kneeled down to pray to God before bed and when he asked me how my day was I responded like this and he just said "No, you like it."

Compression words --- luck, talent, status, culture, privilege, identity --- can be useful in everyday conversation, but often fall apart when you examine them closely or need to look at things in higher resolution.

Intuition needs to look at things from afar or vaguely in order to function, so as to get a certain hunch from the unconscious, to half shut the eyes and not look at facts too closely. If one looks at things too precisely, the focus is on facts, and then the hunch cannot come through. That is why intuitives tend to be unpunctual and vague.

I believe in a creative vision that must be made at all costs, what or who makes it means nothing to me.

When changing your life, it's better to say "what am I doing different today, right now", and not "well I commit to doing this tomorrow and this on Tuesday and this on Wednesday" and so on. Plans are also good as long as you remember that plans are not pre-emptive choices, they are planning to make a choice. You are not planning on doing x y and z next week, you are planning on choosing to. And when the day comes choosing will feel just as difficult or as easy as this moment, planning to choose will not make it any easier. On the day you still have to say: "here's what I am doing different today, right now" Generally for most people, if you're just starting out, it's better to practice choosing things, practice the action of choosing in this moment, than it is to make an ever more elegant plan (for choosing). It's a muscle not an intellectual exercise.

My rich friends text me back INSTANTLY. My broke friends take hours to reply back. That's not a fucking coincidence.

After watching approximately 4 hours today, of a 10 year old recording of a YouTuber/Twitch streamer playing Fallout: New vegas, I realized that David Foster Wallace was wrong about one thing: The Entertainment is not simple infantilization and mommy loves you sissy hypno, the real The Entertainment is more subtle and horrible yet. What pleasure I derive from watching "Northernlion" play New Vegas "for the first time" in 2015, a game I have played maybe 300 hours of in many many replays, is not, exactly "vicariously experiencing it for the first time myself", but instead, specifically watching someone else play it for the first time. What is being synthetically reproduced is not my own nostalgic experience of narcissistic immersion, but specifically the social dimension of sharing it: I am not watching the streamer to imagine myself in his place, I am watching him to imagine what it is like watching someone experience it. I am not substituting the childish baby narcissism experience, I am precisely substituting the PARENTAL experience. It's not about the video game at all, it's about sharing something with your "child". In DFW: I am not the baby being spoken to by the mother, I AM the mother sissy hypnoing the baby. POV meme

I think the more you ramp yourself up with any kind of earthly rewards whatsoever (and even some seemingly noble goals can boil down to earthly rewards), the more you will be forced to suffer through a subsequent pruning process where the unreality of these rewards gets revealed and accounted for. But the pain of that later revealing is greater than the joy of the initial acquisition, according to a multiple that is potentially unlimited and which we struggle to fathom in advance. I suspect the idea of Hell as "burning" may have something to do with this.

Many years ago I engaged in a long and intense flirtation with a brilliant writer, but the first time we were alone in a room together he couldn't get an erection despite telling me he was enamored with my beauty. My attraction died there. Later I discovered he had unusual tastes that I couldn't think about without disgust, and suddenly his "brilliant" writing, which I thought was sensitive and lovely and empathetic, seemed just like the work of a weak-willed man asking for sympathy.

Later I started to flirt with another writer. I wasn't the biggest fan of his writing - he had young talent but his stories had a dark, cruel edge that I found distasteful. Still, when we finally met, despite his edgy persona, I discovered him to be kind, and sweet and rather "normal." His writing transformed for me. He became more than an edgelord. I saw his style as bold and incisive and courageous.

That is to say, writing can often obscure the truth of who we are, but the dick never lies.

Everyone seems to agree, with varying degrees of convinction, that we are living in a terrible, irredeemable age.

I have a fantasy in which I patrol the coastal earth before any life emerges from the oceans. And when anything sticks its head up and tries to crawl onto land, I'm there to destroy it, to crush anything that would take evolution farther than a hideous life in underwater black.

Every act of avoidance reinforces avoidance as a strategy, and consecreates the thing avoided as A Thing To Be Avoided.