Stop whining, people tell me.
Look asshole– I write positive shit all the time. I don’t post it. It’s boring. No one wants to read I’m fucking six one and ripped at 43, enough money to live for years as a NEET roaming the world seeking true love. Watching fish groom each other on pristine coral reefs. Watching fish nibble parasites off other fish– they line up just like Finding Nemo. They really do this. Get too close to this six inch fish’s nest, some weird kind with a long beak, it looks like there’s a flute coming off its face– it charges you. Like a truculent chihuahua. Incredible. I meditate and I’m back with them. Like I’m there. Warm clean water stretching miles and miles. I can and will spend years being with God and these beautiful animals. By night I’ll lay abed with sweet nubile island women. Hear their stories. People trash these Filipina girls– their lives are 1,000 times more primal and dramatic than ours. It will happen. I make enough from books to do this. Don’t even start with the job money. People trash my job but if you do anything and just get old they pay you through the nose. I don’t have kids but hey my balls still work. Normal for dudes to have no kids in their 40’s here. Normal all over the world. Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. I really don’t want to work. Normal for high IQ individuals such as myself– we self-genocide. See how insufferable this is already. I’m tall not bad looking affluent and my book, which is completely uncompromised, it’s not some horseshit about how to lose weight that I also sell a supplement line for– it’s a fucking work of art, choad— my book is successful. I put my heart into it. I’m rewarded with love and acclaim. I hate typing this. If I want to stop I can go play Nintendo fucking Switch. You think things are looking up for me, you should see my Zelda character. Hoard of mushrooms you wouldn’t believe.
My green beans came in early. Little purple flecks on them because my beautiful new home has high phosphorus soil. I don’t have large nipples. The parrots I wrote about in my book fly over my house every morning. People insult me and stalk me and try to get me fired and it doesn’t work and if it did I wouldn’t care. I hurt my back doing heavy squats so guess what– I’ll stop doing heavy squats. Too old now to do a thing I always hated. That I only did because some salesman on Twitter chided me into it. Fantastic.
Look how much this blog post sucks. Where I’m not complaining. Sad Angela’s gone but how much worse would it be if she were here. I had the best of the best, a beautiful genius living with me. Then taking off so I could fuck 100 less beautiful idiots. All of it great. My life is great. I’ve suffered grievous loss but I’m such a gigantic wizard I could transmute it into beautiful art that made others feel less alone. How do I sound now saying this. Good? Do you like this post? I have a gray stray cat that hangs around the house. Maybe I’ll make him my cat. Real tough prick missing part of his ear. He won’t let me pet him yet. I get to establish a relationship with this cat. Like I did with Bud. You have to let them come to you.
You complain too much. Listen up, fuckface: there are two “men’s”articles. 1) Complaining 2) bragging to sell you shit. What message are you sending young men, they tell me. How about: stop modeling your life after shit you read on the internet.
No one wants to read that there’s one red-headed finch– I don’t know what kind– not a house finch, maybe a grosbeak or something– haven’t even begun to get into identifying local passerines– one finch comes in my garden every morning. Eats harmful pests and weed seeds. I cleared the land with a machete, leaving foxtails and mustard in my wake. These could easily sprout and steal nutrients from my crops. But this finch identified my plot of land as a safe place to live. He vigilantly guards my homestead. Do you have a finch, asshole? I thought not.
Watch him peck at seeds every morning. Have conscious contact with my Creator. This enables me to be of service to my fellows. Haven’t had a drink or got high in five years. Good brother, son and friend. I’ve been described as an “adequate” writer– look I’ll fucking take it. Adequate writer and brilliant complainer. Get a time machine. Go back to the Mississippi Delta and knock the guitar out of Robert Johnson’s hands. Tell him stop complaining. Teach him your favorite song, Katy Perry’s Firework.
You’re not as good as Houellebecq they tell me– yeah no shit. I’m shocked people make the comparison. I was a guy who wrote OKCupid profiles to post on the Roosh V Forum. That was like four years go. Now suddenly the standard is Houllebecq, the best writer in the world. I’m not as good as the best writer in the world. OK shitbag- you’re not as good as the best f*ggot in the world. But you’re still stepping in the ring. I admire that.
Anyway here’s your not complaining post. Everything’s great. I’m doing fine. I’m grateful. I complained about a woman yesterday. Today I’m glad she bailed. Stayed long enough to get a post out of it. I complain about LA. But I was out in Colorado; there was 18 feet of snow in April and every town had 10 anti-abortion billboards per capita. Trust me, if I hated it that bad here I’d leave. Complained about the rent but really it’s not a big deal. I’m the god damn monopoly man now just from being old and single– all the shit I used to bitch about.
Stop whining about me whining, fuckstick. Get a job. Invest in crypto. Day game cold approach. Subscribe to my nootropics plan, now with Kratom. Kick box yourself into some fucking Lamborghinis– hope you don’t have a steep driveway. I enjoy my 2014 certified pre-owned Subaru Legacy. Premium trim package. Took that shit to every state west of the divide. Real states, not like Connecticut. Never had to pop the hood. Don’t pull much ass with it. But that’s why God made Nintendo. I love you all.
delicioustacos 
This was awesome. “Kick box yourself into some fucking Lamborghinis.” Sounds like we follow the same people on Twitter. Heh.
Keep up the good work.
Nice to read you again. Writing from Manila I gather. How’s the weather? Enjoyed your posted interview so much I sprang for Finally… It’s not charity. It’s commerce. Quid pro quo. BTW what time is it there now?
You don’t care if you get fired?
Aren’t the greats great because they make you want to read them? True of Nietzsche. In my opinion this is all that popularity means or ever has meant. You get great because you make some candy people like then hate yourself for it. Or not. Like Mick Jagger. But that means being truly antisocial.
The notion of truth is not truth it’s just truth that makes people feel good. Which isn’t truth at all.
The bankers are right and that’s why they’re so quiet. Just get rich and destroy.
Your readers are mostly wrong, as they’ve always been. Writing about the good is just as interesting as the bad when someone talented is doing it. You’re great no matter what.
pls have sex (with me)
You’re a good writer.
Refreshing to see some offsite talent here.
Love you, too, brotha.
Also, made me spit out my coffee at: “I don’t have large nipples.”
The Legacy is a fine vehicle. The wife and I might go for one for our second car if we can’t afford an Outback.
That tropical beach sounds 10000x better than California. Can’t figure out why you stay if you’ve got f you money.
Thanks for world’s greatest faggot part, btw. I needed a laugh.
strange how you praise filipinas now, when in previous poasts you called them chimpfaced idiots who won’t stop blabbering nonsense. change of taste i guess. the trick is finding the ones with high spanish genes, they have lighter skin and better facial aesthetics. usually less conniving too. anyway, congrats on the success. might see you in SEasia but probably not as i’m avoiding the philippines & thailand. you’re really sleeping on the charms of cambodia, malaysia, indonesia.
Best writer in the world? Roissy, Bukowski, You.
Lucky you, you made my list.
So now he’s turned into Dan Bilharzian, lol.
Okay, good post, faggot
>I don’t have large nipples.
Okay I buy physical copies of both of your books and still you go and personally insult me like this. Asshole.
Memes aside though I enjoyed this post from you. Life truly is incredible. Whether you’re a somewhat someone like you or a total nobody like me. This morning I sat on my back porch in the chill of the pre dawn light. I enjoyed my hot coffee and watched a pair of cardinals hop about on the fence. I gave a prayer of thanks to God above for giving me another glorious day. Oh how my heart flutters at this thought: every day can be like this! Peace be to you, DT.
I’ve always read your posts in a certain voice but this one reminded me of that twitter video a while ago where you said something about fucking sonic
“Do you have a finch, asshole? I thought not.”
^ This is gold right here. You might think the positive things in life don’t interest people, but coming from you, it’s refreshing as hell. Believe it or not, I bet there are actually a lot of readers out there who like to hear about how things are going well for you. I for one think you truly deserve it.
I’m thinking the number of the finch’s remaining days are proportional to the success of your efforts to coax the cat into residency.