“…the need of strife; to struggle to be freed from hard ground”

Posted in Uncategorized on May 15, 2017 by A♠







“Why am I not surprised you showed up? Today of all days, no less.”


I’d just arrived at the back bar of the Goth club I irregularly but often frequented.


So stunned by her unusually confrontational tone, especially considering ► our past ◄, I didn’t even think to order my usual Jack & Coke with a splash of lime juice.


Instead, I narrowed my eyes -more in curiosity than hostility – asking the obvious question:


Why is that, Kiki [her nickname]?




She softened immediately, breathing more than speaking the words:


“Because my mother was just hospitalized.


And you’re the opposite of a fair-weather-friend.


You disappear when everyone’s life is going well but just happened to pop back in right after it turns bad.


And you help make it all better.


I guess you’re a rainy-day-friend.”




We laughed.


Especially so, given our black-draped, dirge-rock-echoing surroundings.


The night went on and was its usual pleasure.


But I’ve never forgotten her words.




See, one of the main reasons I dislike Facebook, specifically, and social media, in general, is this:


It gives no chance for winter to come.


No moment for clouds to gather, for rain to fall.


It’s this constant artificial environment where relationships long outlive their expiration dates.




All too often, folks stay on it to “stay in touch with friends and family”.


When, really, they should let many (if not most) of them go.


If someone needs an app with countless in-built reminders to think of one, then that’s not a friendship.


It’s a mailing list.




Now, many will argue, citing man is a social creature and we all need a support network.


But I would point them to ► one of my books ◄ (and a second within the year).


Meaning most of these aren’t a support network as they know the person of five, 10, 15, 20+ years ago.


Rarely who one is currently.


Or, more importantly, should be becoming.




As a case in point, had I stayed on Facebook:


I’d still be trying to squeeze myself in the shoes I wore 15 years ago.


Rather than the comfortable boots I wear now. 




As always, dear reader, the choices are yours to make.


But I will humbly ask that you give this a great deal of thought.


Since I Truly believe:


God, Fate, the Tao – whatever you choose to term it – will place you exactly where you need to be.


And with who needs you most.









“…well, when I called her ‘evil’, she just laughed…”

Posted in Uncategorized on May 10, 2017 by A♠






When I was a boy, I had a love of animals and the outdoors.


So as to caution me – but not dissuade me from either interest – my father told me:


“Realize, son, animals are more scared of you than you are of them.”




In short, when they bare their teeth, hiss or otherwise become agitated, understand this is borne of fear.


Not maliciousness.


Not cruelty.


Not even of ill-will, inherently.


It’s a way for the creature to cope with the terror and keep itself safe.


This lesson served me well with women, too.




See, the vast majority (I’d say ≥ 95%) of women that play “tough” are, at their core—




Odds are they had a very weak – if not completely absent – father figure.


This left them feeling twice as vulnerable as the average female.


Now, be sure to understand, dear reader, fear is a female’s default position.


So doubling that quality is no small alteration.




It’s a huge reason they are attracted to dangerous men (men are less likely to kill them if the woman in question is amenable to sex; also those men, once she ingratiates herself, are more likely to use their intimidating power to protect her).


It’s a reason they love “cute” things.


(They  ► respect ◄ men; they don’t love men, in the sense men employ the word.)


Cute” = “harmless” (babies, small animals, et al)




Indeed, it’s no coincidence we see the proliferation of “tank grrls” and “ass-kicking females” in an era where fathers are almost unheard of (by their choice or not).


So, am I saying all of those women are – at heart – just frightened, little girls?


(Permit me to be uncharacteristically clear, rather than my usually cryptic self.)




That’s exactly what I’m saying.




As far as what my male readers can do about it—


Carefully display strength.


Exude a controlled calm.


And, above all, remember:


Regardless as to how you may feel, you’re not the most frightened one in the room.







“I’ve learned more about the blues in two weeks with you…”

Posted in Uncategorized on May 1, 2017 by A♠






A statement I’ve heard three times since publishing ► this article ◄ is:


“What am I to her?”


I’m going to answer here.


And nobody will like it.


But first, let’s go over a few things.




Realize: women, on the whole, dislike commitment (contrary to the constant projection).


Because women benefit tremendously – emotionally and materially – from a plethora of options.


While men, on the other hand, do not. 


Since men are far more frequently the giver rather than the receiver.




Understand: commitment closes doors.


Accordingly, at its root, commitment is beneficial to men as it means resources – emotional and material – go to fewer individuals (women).


To women, it’s the opposite – for the aforementioned reason.




Thus, unless she’s damn certain she’s acquired exactly what she wants, back-burners are left cooking.


Commitment, to women, is a way to lock in their success.


No more; no less.


Think of it as a “save point” in a video game.


Come what may, she has that stable resource/supply.




This leads us to the promised answer.


So let’s get it over with, shall we?


If you don’t know what you are with her—


you’re nothing special.







“Sent a letter on a long summer day…”

Posted in Uncategorized on April 25, 2017 by A♠






I plan to begin posting twice a month (at least, though I’ll try to do so weekly).


As far as book releases go:


I’ve two currently in the works.


Don’t Start Clapping: A Survival Manual for The New Dystopia


And a fictional horror project for Halloween. 


My sincerest best to you all.







“… trying to be me, oh, it ain’t easy…”

Posted in Uncategorized on April 25, 2017 by A♠






Recently, I was asked by a reader if I had any posts regarding a woman “ghosting” and how to cope  with it.


I thought a moment, swiftly realizing:


I do not.


So, dear readers, here it is.




What should a man do, exactly, when a woman “flakes”, “ghosts” or otherwise fades into relational shadow when he was of the opinion that she was interested/involved/invested?


My answer:


Clean your home.




Break out the dust-rags and vacuums. 




No, I’m being neither humorous nor flippant.


See, there’s only two possibilities here:


1} She is legitimately unable to communicate (which, to be perfectly honest, is unlikely but very possible).


2} She’s lost interest.




What can a man do about either?




Accept it.


Like it or not.


And get your house in order.




Trying to get her attention – at this juncture – is a fool’s errand.


She’ll either write you off as desperate (at best) or creepy (at worst).


So take care of yourself.


Sanitize your surroundings.


Freshen (in every sense of the word) your environment.




There’s no downside to this course of action.


1} It clears the path for friends and visitors, new and old.


2} It helps clear your own head.


3} It prevents you from hating yourself and your station, if only a little, that much more.


4} It keeps you from obsessing over mistakes, missteps and self-doubt.


5} Lastly, and importantly, it keeps you from digging the hole between you and she even deeper.




Thus, get to work and let her go… to flee or return.


Take care of you.


Because, as a man, no matter how much you’d wish differently—


No one else will.




“To feel the pain that spurs you on…”

Posted in Uncategorized on January 5, 2017 by A♠






A major conflict that has been raging, unnoticed, for nigh on two decades has been:


The Resilience Wars


As this article shows, Caucasian female deaths from alcohol consumption have increased dramatically. 


Many wonder why.


I’m not among them.


I’ve little doubt as to the causes.




I’ll state my conclusion, given the statistics provided and the knowledge I’ve shared here.


First and foremost, understand that, generally speaking:


Women use alcohol as a poison.


Men use alcohol as an anesthetic.


Men use it to escape misery; women use it to wallow in it.


Men try to show how much they can drink without getting drunk.


Women drink to show how drunk they can get.




As I’ve stated previously, women use suffering (subconsciously, at least) to demonstrate resilience.


Note: the article mentions the increase in white women’s rates, specifically. This is due to the simple fact that white men are the most uxorious bunch, out of the races (of men) implicitly provided. Other females have their need to suffer met. Thus, they feel no need self-administer.  I remind you, dear reader, we’re speaking in aggregates in this post.


In fact, more often than not, women’s complaints are (at heart) actually backhanded boasts of how much suffering they can take.




Tangentially: This is the reason they hate it when men try to solve their problems (when women don’t outright request it) —


It denies them the bragging rights.


It’s also why they mutilate themselves, these days, with terrible hair styles, unconventional piercings, obesity, tattoos and the frequent usage of obscenities.  


Since they’ve been denied external suffering, they’ll bring it upon themselves.




This is also why, in a macro sense, the statement “women ruin everything” originated.


1} They join a group

2} Use it as a proxy for the self

3} Test it (= test themselves) by going so far as to actually welcome destructive forces



Before the cry is raised, permit me to say:


Yes, all women are like that. 


The exceptions prove the rule by having had sufficient misery in their upbringing/past.


(Keep in mind, while the need is without exception, the degree to which it is necessary differs tremendously per individual.)


Thus they feel no need to invite more.


This is also why, historically, grandmothers are sought for female advice rather than mothers, sisters, et al. 


They’ve suffered enough so as to not feel the need to poison the well.




As I wrote in my first book:



In fairy tales, the most desirable/marriageable women

had terrible & harsh lives [“childhoods”].

This is not a coincidence but a lesson.



Now, to read my words here as a call to abuse women would be a gross misunderstanding, in every sense.


It should, instead, be read as what it is:


An elucidation of where the long, winding trail of human existence has led us.


And what we need to see in ourselves because of it.






“But if I sing along a little fucking louder…”

Posted in Uncategorized on January 5, 2017 by A♠






An open letter to Delicious Tacos:

I saw that you posted re: your frustrations writing a book to market. Oh, man, do I feel you there. You had some great comments from readers, too.

Here they are:


July 5, 2016 at 11:37 pm 

You’re not a bad writer you just write about stupid things so 5% of the world’s idiots will have someone to look up to. Why don’t you try like, actually writing something. You’re right, though. Most of your stuff is as rote as you say your dates are. Somewhere down the hill, drive me home oh birds in park. Chicken dinner then sofa fucking too quick.>My life sucks and it’s never going to get any better. I fucked a girl and she was a girl and I got laid and no condom because STDs are lies spread by feminists.

Obviously I know nothing about writing but you can produce better that what you have been. Stop with the essays. If you’re going to write about being a shithead, make it a Confederacy of Dunces style story, or something, Idk. That book had no point but it was pretty awesome. Anyway, I bet you could churn out a really great ACTUAL book if you wanted but you depend too much on this cesspool. Don’t have to accept you’re great if you keep yourself contained in this sludge.

Shylock Holmes

July 6, 2016 at 6:59 am 

I think Sylvia is onto something. I don’t think the subject matter necessarily has to change, since you do tawdry introspection as a means to understanding modern society better than almost anyone. But have you thought about trying longer form writing? The discipline of a novel and a more complex plot structure would certainly force you to write something different.

The other benefit would be to make it explicitly fiction, even if still loosely based on yourself – most people’s actual lives ARE the same thing over, which is why loosely fictionalized versions of the author seem to be such a popular starting point. Except Hemingway, who seemed to just do crazy stuff just to have something to write about. I’m not sure if that’s a better option, he did put a shotgun in his mouth in the end.



“Reply?” Well, website, don’t mind if I do.

I’ve got to say, while Sylvia and Shylock have some solid points (with which I agree), I’m compelled to point out:

If she thinks toilet humor and crass tales get a small audience, then I’m here to inform her one would damn near need an electron-microscope to see the sales numbers of insightful observations and parables elucidating the vast, complex problems of modernity. Hell, I can barely buy a large pizza with what I make a month on this. (I confess, however, there’s a large middle-ground that I’m, as of yet, unwilling to walk.) Your sales and mine are contextually comparable to The Family Guy vs Arrested Development. We know which still brings in cash, to this day, and which had to claw just to be a “Netflix Presentation”. 

Another two cents I’ll toss into this particular kitty (no pun intended) is the following: 

You confess you do it for cash and ego. Who doesn’t, in some way or another? That’s not really the issue at hand. It’s my belief that you became entangled trying to get approval or cash or success (or some combination thereof), so much so that you’ve lost the love of the art; the wordsmithing; the visceral, emotional reactions garnered from a finely crafted story. But, hey, I don’t know you, personally. Maybe this is all part of a shtick. Lord knows every few months there’s another revelation of reality vs persona in this section of the ‘net. I could be wrong. You can certainly tell me to go shit in my hat. But understand, I’m seriously not trying to be a dick nor am I trying to start some ridiculous internet conflict.

I know I didn’t start out wanting to do this. I had a therapist tell me to start a journal. I figured: if I can’t be well, I may as well write. The internet just happened to be a way that I could tell everyone “I told you so”—  for going on 13 years now. I’ll also say that, while my numbers pale in comparison to just about every other blogger in our corner of the web, I wouldn’t trade my readers for the world. Good-hearted, savvy, hungry to learn folks, they are. And they’re open to seeing things with the aid of my uniquely broken glass, like Svyatoslav Fyodorov, and realizing maybe a bit of it to the eyes will improve vision. They keep me doing this. They gave me a reason to live, again. No doubt. So, while I make take sabbaticals, I’ll never quit. I doubt I’ll even make it big (while alive) but I know for a fact men (and some women, too) read my ideas, pass them around and will keep them thriving long after I’m dust and bones. 


Regardless, I say to you:

Take solace in the fact you’ve “made it” more than most (myself included), reassess and press onward.

Learn to love what you do again or, if you feel it necessary, find a new love.


Sincerely wishing you the best of luck in your next project,