This one is more unpleasant than usual. It reads like a guest post by Tom Arrows, but it’s me, Nikolai. Your normally cheerful and exuberant narrator.
Wandering in the mountains I often have good ideas. One such idea struck me upon a picturesque bend in the road, decorated with a giant, shady stand of bamboo and a gnarled, leafless, near-dead tree. I thought, what if I was walking to my execution? That next crossroads, twenty minutes away – that’s where my firing squat is waiting. I am Read More
Book review of Stoner, by John Williams.
Kant said, beauty is that for which we have no concept. We can look at it, admire it, and feel that certain qualia that comes from beauty, but if we attempt to explain it in mere words we fail because words can only express concepts. Such beauty might come from a moment of perfection in music or from the composition of a great work of art.
In this spirit, it is impossible to properly describe the qualities of Stoner. It tells the story of a very ordinary man and his life which is, on the surface, insignificant. He is born into rural poverty, attends university and becomes an academic. He has some joys, tragedies, suffering and some minor triumphs along the way. These are of a sort that any person might experience. In the end, he Read More
Back when the ‘sphere was young, writers would publish a post explaining their ‘red pill moment’ – the instant they realized that everything they’d been told about women was wrong. It’s fallen into disuse but I’m bringing it back.
In 2011 I was a blue pill beta who still believed 90% of the things that I was supposed to believe, and I dismissed hate facts with all the fervor of a furiously bespectacled lesbian social worker.
After yet another hair-raising breakup – I feared the crazy bitch might stab me – I decided to avoid dumping girls for while by avoiding real relationships. I would just play the field as I had heard other men managed to do.
I met a new girl and we shagged within hours. She later pressed for relationship clarification and told her openly that I didn’t want anything serious and that I would not be exclusive. I expected her to slap me on the spot, or at least to storm out at such a degrading suggestion.
She Read More
As in the quantum thought experiment Scrödinger’s Cat, a woman’s sexual decision exists in a state of uncertainty which can only be described according to statistical probability. Before being observed, she both does and does not want to sleep with you simultaneously. The blur of statistical probability only collapses into one or the other definite state once observed; that is, when you bust a move.
Let’s demonstrate with an example back here on planet Earth. Shortly after formulating this theory I went on a date with a nice looking lady. We met in a cafe and she told me that in ten days she would be heading off to spend a year in New Zealand. Oh, I thought. She just wants to practice some English conversation before she leaves. What a waste of my time. I considered making an excuse for an immediate getaway.
Then I remembered my theory. She does not yet know whether Read More
You’re all freaks. You. The people who write blogs that I enjoy. The spirited wordsmiths whose amusing polemics break up the monotony of my day and prevent me from thinking about those things I have chosen to forget.
When I begin to enjoy the honesty and rawness of your blog, you jump out with, I’m a heroin addict! I’ve never had sex! I have Elephantiasis! I was brutally raped by my auntie throughout my childhood! Or something like that. Which makes me think, what am I doing here, lurking among the bio-luminescent creatures of the deep?
I don’t belong here. I’m normal. Let me tell you how normal I am, you fucking freaks. I’ve had Read More
Another time, another place.
I’m staring around my blue painted room in panicked desperation. The computer, tabs flicking between Word and AltaVista’s ‘asian blowjob’ search results. A gothic poster that I hoped would look cool if a girl ever came here. Books from my recent childhood. My family unheard, in bed, perhaps asleep. It’s late. I’ve been drinking coffee. My heart races unevenly.
Do they know?
I can’t focus because of the gloomy pit of despair that twists like a cruel, bloated worm from my throat to my bowels. It’s there most of the time. Been there for years, growing and squirming inside me. I wake up to it and fall asleep with it. I’m sometimes amazed that I’m still alive. How can I feel like this, for so long, and yet move and breathe like a normal person? The feeling is so physically and emotionally painful that I’m sure it must eventually give me cancer or a heart attack. Sometimes I hope that it does. I am twenty but I feel like an old man looking back at my insubstantial life with regret.
I have few friends. The ones I have are getting sick of me and are trying to fade away but I persist, turning up at parties to which I have not been invited, ignoring their embarrassed confusion, talking hopelessly to girls even I find unattractive. I have no girlfriend. I have no achievements to my name. I stare at the ceiling, thinking again of my parents who have their own problems.
Do they know?
I roll over, flick again to the back pages of the local paper. Advertisements for brothels. There’s one not so far away, in an industrial area. But, do I dare? Read More
We have bigger problems than mass migration and our sex lives. How are you enjoying the Holocene? It’s the warm, interglacial period we’re currently experiencing. It’s been going for about ten thousand years, or the totality of human civilization plus a bit. I like it. Crops are growing well, supporting huge cities. An urban population leads to learning, professions and all the technology we have today. Like scissors.
Don’t get too attached to all that, though. Interglacial periods don’t always last so very long. Read More