So on tonight’s “Let ‘Em Burn,” a comment was made about “Slipping Into Darkness.” To which I said something along the lines of, “Sounds like a song from Saints and Sinners,” which if you don’t know, has a song called “Slipping Into Darkness.” Google it, check it out, I’m not doing it for you.
Apparently it goes much darker than me having a 90’s flashback to a metal song that I thoroughly enjoyed back then and to this day.
I don’t know if her friend died or not, but from the comment, I take it that this person died. But hell, maybe he got sent to an asylum or something.
Here’s the point if it’s about death though:
Fuck Death.
We all die. Sooner than we think we will. Always. We all think that our loved one’s, and us by proxy, are going to live forever. We aren’t. We all die. And sooner than we would like to think we will.
My Mom died in late 2018 before she turned 67. I have friends who died back in their 20’s and 30’s. An acquaintance of mine just lost her 23, almost 24 year old niece, to a drunk driver. The guy jumped the curb, hit the niece, killing her almost instantly, and almost killing the niece’s baby daughter. He then proceeded to drive off, only to be caught a short time later by law enforcement. My Dad just told me a couple of days ago that he needs me to take him to the hospital so they can “whittle on his prostate.” Those are his words. At 72 years old, nothing is a minor procedure anymore.
Fuck Death.
You can’t outrun it. You can’t outlive it. “On a long enough timeline, our probability of survival goes down to zero.” Guess what movie I’m quoting.
Fuck Death.
Live your life in the way that you choose. Live it fully and fearlessly. Live it to the hilt. Eat all of the good food. Drink all of the good drinks, and even some of the bad ones. Do all the shit that you want to do. Your survival isn’t guaranteed. In fact, it’s guaranteed that you won’t survive.
Fuck Death and all of the myopic bullshit and virtue signaling. “Quality women and men,” don’t exist. There’s just men and women, that’s it. Either she’s a “hell yeah!” or a “Fuck no.” That’s it. Anything in between is bullshit and is a no as far as I’m concerned.
Enjoy your life and do what you want. Drink to your friends, lovers, and family who have died. I know I would want you to if it was me. Don’t mourn me. Don’t cry for me. Don’t lament my passing. Drink to me and to life and for Christ’s sake, get to living.
I’m saying this now because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and I don’t know if I’ll be around to write it.
Drink, eat, and fuck for life. Fuck Death. Drink, eat, fuck and live in spite of death. Do all the shit you wanted to do and don’t put it off. Tomorrow never comes and yesterday will never come back.
Do what you want because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and nobody is watching and nobody gives a fuck anyways.
When I was younger I always though power meant having control over others.
To control their behavior, decisions, thoughts, wants, needs and time.
The older I got the more I understood power is the complete opposite.
Power is the lack of control others have over your behavior, decisions, thoughts, wants, needs and time.
Power is the control over one’s emotions not to lash out or the need to defend your position, explain or excuse one’s self or rationalize your behavior towards others.
Power is doing.
Power doesn’t need to be stated as a possession. It shows itself when needed.
Guys love the Tywin Lannister quote “Any man who says I am the king is no true king” which was used to put a child in his place. Yet they use it to show they’re king because Th3y d0n’t cAll th3ms3lv3s K!ng. Completely missing the point of what the character was trying to say in that moment.
Power does not need to speak.
That is power.
Power just is.
And as stated above power is how much control one has over themselves.
Can you make peace with the past?
Can you accept what you lost will never come back?
And can you accept that who you once were is no longer who you are?
In bodybuilding and in fitness as a whole there is a phenomenon that’s called “fat kid syndrome” and it describes a person who used to be the fat kid and experienced the hardship that comes with it. Be it ridicule, rejection, shaming and outright bullying, but now has gone through the journey of losing all the weight and sculpted themselves into a peak example of human aesthetics.
Yet they cannot lose the image of that chubby little fat kid who nobody wanted to play with or be around other than to ridicule them.
They still have no power of themselves.
And it reminds me of people who win the lottery.
Many of you might know the statistics that a majority (I can’t remember the percentage) of lottery winners are broke within 5 years.
Objectively they might be rich, but mentally they are still poor.
An urge to spend, because who knows when the money will be gone? Ironically that way of thinking being the reason why it will be gone.
But with it comes certain behavior as well.
Note I have never been “poor”. I grew up in a financial middle class home where I had every toy that I ever wanted. Which developed into problems on their own which I maybe go into later.
I do however know a couple of previous fat and or poor kids who, even though out lift and out finance me, still haven’t caught up mentally.
In it based on that experience which I know write this piece.
With certain circumstances come certain behaviors.
When you’ve never been anyone, you want to be someone. But how can you be someone when no-one acknowledges you?
For that there’s validation.
In my humble opinion a need for validation is a sign of powerlessness.
A NEED for everyone to know you have money, have sex, have stuff and everything else they’ve achieved.
But what is all of that worth if you can’t enjoy it for yourself?
This need for validation can take form of destructive habits of calling people out and comparing yourself to them in a way that makes you look infinitely better.
Be like me it worked for me.
But if you’re better, why feel the need to call it out?
Stir Up Water To Catch Fish is one of those laws of power which is meant as a shield instead of a sword and not as a tool to apply. Some will rattle your cage just to see how you react and with your reaction enlarge their point.
Power isn’t winning over other. Power is not needing to win over others, because you’ve already won for yourself.
This is why they used to say: “We can’t tell you what to think, only how to” in MRP (Married Red Pill).
All of this Red Pill, learning game, getting attractive and getting your shit in order is about YOU.
Rian Stone always asks: How much money is enough?
And barely anyone can give an answer.
Can I give an answer?
I can give a rough estimate and if I were a millionaire you’d barely see me podcast solo again.
You most certainly would never know if I had it.
This is why Delicious Tacos comes across as powerful to me.
The man has his books, his own little farm, a passive income and is jacked and what does he do?
Plays an incel on Twitter while guru’s make fun of him by calling him poor and falling for his play.
Meanwhile he enjoys the peace and the beauty of nature, company of his cat, bird watching and the occasional big titted Asian who also agrees to promote his books with scantily clad photo’s of herself.
Chest RuleZeroDad Rockwell comes across as powerful to me.
He’s been a mod on Married Red Pill for years where he archived his field reports on dragging himself through hell to now being a highly successful lawyer while leading his family without even one photo of his car or need to look for validation. Yet you will be dragged to the carpet when you try to fuck with him. His work speaks for him, not his possessions.
Rob comes across as powerful to me.
He’s 5,4 ft, bald, bearded, tatted up having 3 girls in rotation working as a truck driver not having any debt as of recently.
He doesn’t want for anything but his Bud Light, cigars, hanging out with friends and his chicks.
He is content.
He is the alpha buddha, although a very grouchy one every now and then.
This is not to fluff my friend, though a bit, but it to get across a point.
They HAVE what THEY want.
They answered uncle Iroh’s question to Zuko:
“Is it your own destiny or a destiny someone else has tried to force on you?”
Do you want 6-figs brah or did you read that on twitter?
Do you want to be ripped and have the abs or did you see a photo of a guy with models and did it made you think you need to look like that?
Do you want the bad bitches or are those the girls you see on insta and would you be happy just to have someone be into you?
Most of you will fail and the red pill isn’t for you.
Red pill Trademark is, but not the red pill.
You’re the grand example of men being raised as defective girls as why marketing works so well.
A quick feel good hit of dopamine before you go back to your miserable life wishing and wanting for what some Guru can give you.
There is no remedy for love but to love more – Henry David Thoreau
I follow a handful of blogs and guys on Twitter, and ThomasCrownPua on Twitter posted a great article.
Thomas Crown was doing a Q & A for some of his guys and someone asked, “Should women be a priority in your life?” To which he said, “women will always be your priority.“
Thomas Crown goes on and talks about hormones, your “mission,” (which is a fucking laugh, by the way) and other stuff. In many ways, he said things that I have already talked about, but he said it better. Go check out his post, you won’t regret it.
I quoted Henry David Thoreau at the beginning of this post. I found that quote in a book called “Drink, Play, Fuck” by Andrew Gottlieb. The book has been around for a moment, the copyright goes back to 2009.
Ah, 2009. That was the year that I got married. It’s funny what words or images will evoke when you look at them. Anyways, enough strolling down memory lane, that’s not what you are here for. You’re here for the “nuggets.”
So I started “Drink, Play, Fuck” on Sunday morning and finished it Sunday night. It’s an easy, light, entertaining read. The author mentioned going to Ireland, Vegas, and Thailand over the course of a year after his marriage of 8 years came to an abrupt end and his wife wasn’t “haaappy” and left him to go live with “David,” a guy that she was banging.
The author’s character started off drinking in Ireland for 4 months, went and gambled and golfed for 4 months in Vegas, and ended up in Thailand for the sex for the final 4 months. I’m not going to spoil it for you, and I would have made different choices than the author made, but that’s what life is all about.
That quote from Thoreau got to me though:
“There is no remedy for love but to love more.“
Get out of your heads and into your bodies and just “feel it.” He’s not wrong.
Every time I meet a new woman, I feel it. Every time things go great or they go south, or nowhere, I feel it. It can suck the big one, sometimes. But that’s the price of admission. I’ve talked to guys in the recent past and they say things like, “It’s all so tiresome.” Or “it’s a slog,” or “a grind.” And yes, it most certainly can be.
You meet a new woman, you chat, you text, you talk on the phone, you go out and have a drink or three, and maybe there’s some chemistry there, some spark. Maybe there isn’t. Maybe you take her home and fuck the shit out of her. Maybe you go home alone. Maybe you think to yourselves, “it’s just not worth it.”
I go through that sometimes too. There are times that I think, “I can’t stand another first meet. I can’t stand going out again.” And then I do it anyway.
Why?
Because the only remedy for love is more love. Going out and grinding or matching with yet another woman is better than sitting in my house, talking about my “mission,” and practicing semen retention.
There is no remedy for love but to love more, is:
You feel the pain of someone breaking it off with you. You feel the pain and disappointment of someone that you thought you had a connection with, ghosting you. And you smile and go out and do it again. You don’t hold the sins of the woman from the past against the women of the present and the future.
There is no remedy for love but to love more.
While it can suck and it can hurt, right to your very core, you carry on. My heart has been broken so many times that I have lost count. And yet, here I am. I’m still alive. My heart continues to beat. I still want and desire the company of women. I still lust for them, I still desire them. And yes, I still love them. Even and especially when it hurts. What is the alternative? There is no alternative for me.
Instead of closing myself down, shutting the women out, I open myself to even more. More pain, more disappointment, more heartache.
Do you know what has happened?
It doesn’t hurt as much as it did the last time. It still hurts, but not as much. It shows me how “tough” and resilient I am. And it allows me to love them even more. And so I do.
I was sitting at the belly dancer’s house on Easter Sunday when my Venezuelan girl sent me a wall of text. In short, she wanted to end things. My belly dancer and I have a unique relationship in many ways. She knows I see other women and I know that she sees other men. She saw that I was distracted when I looked at my phone. She asked me what was going on. I told her that it was over between the Venezuelan woman and me. She wanted to comfort me and she told me that she was sorry. I told her that I knew that it was over several days ago and it didn’t come as a surprise. The only surprise was that the Venezuelan girl decided to tell me it was over instead of just ghosting me, which is usually how it goes.
There is no remedy for love but to love more. I know without a doubt that I can and do love more than one woman at a time. Each one brings something different to my life and my experiences. There’s no one woman that can be “everything” for me.
Some women like to camp and hike. I like to camp and hike, so I do that with them. Some like live theater, concerts, and being in large crowds. I like live theater, concerts, and being in large crowds, so I do that with them. Some like to drink and alter their states of consciousness. I like to drink and alter my state of consciousness, so I do that with them. Some like kink, and some don’t. I do kink with the one’s who like it, and I don’t with the one’s who don’t. Some like existential conversations about the meaning of life and why we are here. Some would rather talk about the latest gossip about the latest celebrity. And so I do both. And I love them all.
I wish I was a better writer and could convey my thoughts, feelings, and emotions better than I do. I really wish I could take “out of my head and body what goes on in there,” and just transfer it to you, Dear Reader. But I’m not that good at conveying it I fear. Somewhere the message falters or gets lost in the translation.
There is no remedy for love but to love more. The more you open yourself to it, the more you get in return. And while the hurt, disappointment, pain, and you name it, never go away entirely, it’s far better than shutting down, becoming a recluse, becoming numb.
The older I get, the more I realize that not only can I love more than one woman at a time, I also realize that I don’t want “peace,” whatever that means. I want experience. I want a ton of experience. I want more experience than I already have. And so I love. I love more.
Rob Says 
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