Archive | May, 2013

Protected: And Here’s Your Lovely Parting Gift

31 May

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Protected: Reader Mailbag: No Way to Live

28 May

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Protected: Weekend Journal 5-26-13: This Is All Your Fault Megan

26 May

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Protected: Twenty for Me and Six for the Room

23 May

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The Natural Physique

19 May


Astrid was trying to set me up with some girl she works with. Some cunt. I mean, maybe she’s not a cunt but she didn’t want to be set up with me, so, she’s a cunt. She’d been telling Astrid she likes “built” guys, and Astrid showed her a picture of me with my shirt off. And she said:

“Yeah, but he looks like he works out on purpose. I want a guy who’s just burly like he’s been chopping wood.”

Let me tell you something. Nobody looks what is now called “good” through normal activities.  You have to work at it, for the sole purpose of vanity, like it’s a second fucking job.  I was listening to an Opie and Anthony bit with Louis CK, which I now can’t find. They were talking about how every hot male movie star from the past would get laughed the fuck off the screen today if they took their shirt off. Charlton Heston. Steve McQueen. These men who had the “hot” body of their time would be flabby schlumps today. The standards of the male body have gone fucking nuts. Continue reading

Protected: Unemployment Diary: Health Insurance

16 May

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What People Talk About When They Talk About Women in L.A.

13 May

They mean those down the middle girls, those black Lulu Lemon pants girls, bone structure like one of those computer averages of a hundred college girl faces, white ipod earphones, white iphone, small dog but not quite at the level of small dog carried in a bag, talking about yoga, talking about if I get this pilot, if I get that pilot; they never get the pilot. They did a 3 episode arc playing the older sister on a Nick for Teens show maybe; they showed every member of the nationwide staff of Ponderosa Steakhouse how to sanitize the ranch dressing bin at the salad bar in an “industrial;” they may believe in astrology, they may actually be religious, they were the prettiest girl in Council Bluffs Iowa. Or they are the daughter of a model who famously advertised orange flavor Tic Tacs in the 80’s and the leathery head of television talent at William Morris whose face is like a Nazi propaganda poster but somehow she won the coin toss and is beautiful; her sister was not so lucky. The down the middle girl you think you can meet in yoga class but you can’t, you think you can meet in acting class but you can’t, you think you can meet her at a bar in the club at the dog park but it so thoroughly pointless to pursue her that you should think of her as bait for an ambush. She has a boyfriend, and she never does not have a boyfriend, and up to a certain age it’s gonna be the bartender at La Poubelle and after that it’s gonna be the aspiring head of television talent at William Morris who gets her a 7 out of 10 on The CW, or another actor, or some comedian who will break out at about the same level as maybe Adam Scott in 2 or 3 years; for now she has seen his Funny or Die video with the hundred thousand views or his quirky auto insurance commercial and that’s enough. If you’re the guy who can get these girls you know it already. If you don’t, you have no shot and never will. Tend bar or get famous.

Edit: I should acknowledge this video‘s existence because they also mention Lulu Lemon pants. I found it stupid but your mileage may vary.

Coffee Shop Diary: Cock Magellan

12 May

diverse smiling women

Look at that. Fat floppy Mexican teenage ass in yoga pants. Some men would be appalled by this, but I want to know what that ass looks like naked.

My buddy who travels around the world fucking whores says at some point you get sick of fucking. You’re not horny and you don’t want to cum but you keep buying three dollar malnourished Cambodians anyway because you just want to see what your dick looks like going in a new one. You’re just curious.

That’s the deeper difference between women and men, I think. Not how horny one or the other is but that chimplike curiosity, or the lack of it. Women never see your ass and think what kind of panties is he wearing. They never summon Jedi concentration to envisage a black strip of thong fabric rubbing against a little puckered pink butthole. Does she have a hairy pussy, a waxed pussy, a shaved pussy, an innie, an outie; is it pink, is it dark– hard to guess; she has dark hair green eyes. Continue reading

Protected: I Hate Squirting

12 May

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Unemployment Diary: Reason for Being

12 May

There is no purpose to my life. No purpose to getting out of bed. Still. What was my purpose before? Pleasing assholes who can’t be pleased, who were mercurial and cruel, for barely enough money to live off of, and nothing to look forward to but a lifetime of climbing up from the bottom of the assholes to the middle of the assholes. Chasing the privilege of being scared of the assholes above you and contemptuous of the assholes beneath you. Seeing people under you as simpering, grating disposable strivers, dogs rolling over when hit with a stick. Fuck that. You think things suck now, remember how much they sucked before. You think going to work would stop you from being nuts but work drives you nuts, too. Just in a different way.  This way I can go nuts on my own terms.

There is danger in solitude but there’s worse danger in the company of idiots. I’ve seen the movie industry, the TV industry, the book industry, what these things are really like. There is no place for me in this world.  I’ve done some traveling, some writing, I’ve met some girls, made some friends. Seen the stars in the desert, whales breaching in the ocean. Attack ships on fire off the rings of whateverthefuck. But mostly it’s been drinking and jerking off in my sweaty apartment. Fine.  It’s what I was born to do.