Little Thoughts II
More musings, more autism!
Fuck you. I miss you.
You left in a hurry. Taking little, and leaving lots. It was decided only the day before that you’d finally leave. A weight left both our shoulders, but that didn’t make it any easier. I held you that night, in the spare bedroom that you colonized to get away from me. We cried together, we prayed together, we laughed together through teary visages, we did anything but sleep.
I took you to the airport. On the way, we made a plan, we swore oaths of loyalty, we tried to make it anything but a goodbye. Deep down, we both knew this was it. Friends for most of our lives, gone forever in one 25 minute car ride. “This is temporary” I emphasized, trying to convince myself more than you. You were “just going home to cool off, to see family”. You came here just as abruptly as you were leaving, after all. You told me I’d see you soon, so why was I so upset?
I let you out in the departures drop-off line. I wanted the moment to last forever, and to be over instantly. I tried to look uninterested, scrolling timidly on my phone while you gathered the scant bags containing your entire life. I tried to avoid eye contact, like a scared kid. The illusion was shattered right before you left. You kissed me on the cheek and said those words, I love you. It was the only thing I didn’t want to hear. Anger, hatred, anything would make it easier. I wanted you to tell me you hated me. But, I knew that would be a lie as much as it was a lie that you were coming back. I knew you loved me, and you knew I loved you. I watched you leave in those stupid Walmart Pink Floyd pants that you said wouldn’t fit, but I knew they would. I hate Pink Floyd, but I loved your reaction when they somehow found their way into our groceries. I’d give any thing to have one last groceries trip with you.
Through misty eyes I sped home. I didn’t even care if I made it back or not. When I got home, I didn’t cry. I collapsed into the recliners we got together, for the life we were supposed to have together, and slept until the afternoon.
Then it started.
I woke up, and saw your text. You made it “home” safely, with that deadbeat dad coming through, for once in his life, to pick you up. You said it so casually, as if there were nothing wrong. As if you were really coming back.
But, I was alone. I was alone in the house that you and I rented together, a “logical next step” before marriage and home ownership. Only now, it had transformed, taking on a ghoulish caricature of what it was only last night.
All of your shit is still here. Your clothes, your shampoo, the disposable cutlery we got together, your bras, the guitar I bought you for our birthday that you hardly played despite being so talented. The guitar I bought so we could jam Alice in Chains songs together. So we could learn No Excuses and play it at our wedding. You were so good, even the solos were second nature to you. Maybe because Alice had been our favorite band since we were kids.
Its all here. And now this feels like a coffin instead of a house. Every day, I wake up surrounded by your stuff. Suffocating. I tell you I’m hurting, you tell me to leave you alone. Then you tell me you’re hurting, and I tell you to stay. You don’t.
You call me, we pray together, and I remember how much I hate praying the Rosary. It’s so long and repetitive, and barely on topic. I remember the fight we had over whether it was too Mary-centric or not. I think about how I should’ve spent that time telling you I loved you. Not that it would fix anything.
I can’t throw your shit away, and that wouldn’t fix anything either. I asked you to let me mail it, but you tell me to throw it out. You tell me to stop contacting you “so we can heal”. But, we both know that’s a lie. The distance makes moving on easier. You’re trying to forget me.
You fade away from my daily life, and I realize that I’m not doing well. I can’t put good days together through sheer strength anymore. I’m exhausted. I stop going to the gym. I stop eating. I sleep in, and linger around the house until its time to sleep again. What little strength I have goes into faking to others that I’m fine. Conversations with friends feel like gauntlets to run. But, I lie. I tell them that it was overdue, that it was only natural for us to break up, that I’m mentally strong and capable of enduring this.
Who could be strong enough for this? I feel like you died, to be honest. It’s like that awful Mount Eerie song about the dude that comes home from the hospital after his wife dies of cancer and can’t bring himself to mess with her bedroom. Except, this is fucking worse. That guy has closure. I have no idea where you fucking are. And I never will again. All I have is a phone number. You could die in a car wreck and I’d never know. It’s not like you reach out anyway.
When real death enters the house, all poetry is dumb When I walk into the room where you were And look into the emptiness instead
Am I being dramatic by thinking I relate to this? I don’t know, I don’t fucking care. It feels like you died. I just want this to be a bad dream. To be in our apartment again, racing home from the gym after work so I can take you to the park we love. So I can watch you improve, upping our mileage. So I can tease you as we go up the big hill, see that breathy smile when we reach the top again, watching the sun go down and dodging the stupid park rangers. Maybe I’ll try again with the hiking boots you hated soon, so I can take you on the backpacking trip we dream about. You can’t go backpacking in sneakers, dude.
But you’re gone now.
You’re never wearing those boots again. They’re going to sit in the closet where you put them until I move them. And I don’t want to move them. I don’t want to disturb anything in this mausoleum because its how it was when you were here. I can’t bear thinking of time passing without you. I just wither in this retarded, self created sarcophagus —surrounded by you. Your things, the way you organized our stuff, the plates you put away, its like you’re everywhere in this house. Yet you’re nowhere.
Time passes, and I’m still growing weaker. I wake up in tears now, when I hadn’t cried in years prior. I dry heave passing your room. Keeping the door closed doesn’t work anymore. You, or the lack of you, makes me physically sick. I write autistic text walls to you, making myself delirious with anger and anxiety, knowing that you don’t want to read that shit. Every morning is a war that I have to win, a street fight in my head, so I don’t text you. It takes all morning. I’m tired of drawing upon my willpower to do basic tasks. Just seeing your little notification would make me giddy.
Finally, a light bulb moment. You owe me some money, that’s a valid reason to talk to you! I get you to call me, you’re sitting in a church parking lot and I disturbed your prayers. I don’t even care at this point, I feel like I’m getting the biggest hit of my fix. I’m intoxicated, the feeling is orgasmic. You feel so close to me, I can almost see you turning the corner from the kitchen. You tell me you’ve been writing letters to me, that you have one now. I coax you into reading it, and you read this awful little screed about how much you hate me. I barely pay attention, indulging the sound of your voice, mind racing with little maneuvers to get you to come back. Suddenly, I feel invincible. I feel the strength coursing back into my body. We both say we’ll stay in touch more.
But you don’t reach out, ever. And I realize I’m exhibiting depressive symptoms. Wait, am I actually? I don’t know, I’ve never been depressed before. So, I beat on myself, harder and harder to prove that I’m not. Get to the fucking gym, load that shit up. So I go, but there’s no strength, no drive. I can’t even get my regular working weight off the ground. I’m pathetic now. There’s nothing left in my body. I think of when I took you there, how happy I was to see you get stronger. That squat rack has some obese fucking Mexican in it now.
I go home, and realize that I don’t care for being alive anymore. I’m not suicidal, I just don’t care anymore. I don’t want to wake up. I hate knowing that another morning has come, that I have to do this again. Every day is a fresh hell.
Everywhere I go, you’re there. The church where we wanted to get married, I avoid it now even though I love it. The priest asked me where I’ve been, and I can’t bring myself to say. What do I do, lie to a priest? The restaurants I took you to, the park, the gym, the ice cream place you loved because you could see the cows, the hobbies we shared, the shared memory of half this fucking city, its all gone. I can’t even go to the airport anymore, or look at the passenger seat in my car.
The entire time, I’m thinking to myself about how a relationship that ended in 2023 is going to prevent me from knowing how your life went in 2033, 2043, 2053. If you went to therapy and got help, if you achieved everything you wanted to. I just want to know that you’re happy. I’d spend the rest of my life like this if it meant that I knew you were happy.
I’d die for it.
I want you to be happy, with or without me, more than I want to be alive.
But, I can’t die for it. I can’t even call you. I can’t be there to protect you anymore. I can’t get in the way of the things that hurt you anymore. I can’t put it on myself to fix everything anymore. And that’s all I want right now.
You ruined my life with this. You took away those kids we talked about, talks with the priest of pre-marital counseling, the dreams of a life together, daydreams of seeing you in a wedding dress that I kept for years. You took some of the best years of my youth. And the worst part is, sending you home for a while was my idea.
I’ll never see you again. And I’m not getting better. The passing weeks aren’t starting to reveal some magical route to recovery. I’m just languishing.
And you did this to me, after everything I’ve done for you.
I just hope you’re okay. I’m not there to protect you anymore.
Fuck you. I miss you.
2022 Classic: Pretty sure I saw part of a human trafficking operation the other day
Went to Walmart with gf, one of the Walmarts with a McDonald's on the side.
She was probably 5-6 steps in front of me (I was getting the cart). As I lengthened my stride to catch up, I saw some dude in the corner of my eye staring at her. He was sitting in a booth at the McDonald's with a large soda (untouched), positioned in such a way that he could easily see people entering the store but they couldn't see him unless they turned and looked at their 4 o'clock. Of course, very few do. I stared back at him through the window to get him to buzz off, saying nothing. He was studying her but not in a "mentally undressing" kind of way, far too analytical. He had the same look for me, not blinking even a single time as we kept walking together. I turned and looked at him several times to let him know I could see him, he was staring at me every time I turned around.
We keep shopping and I see several other guys just like him throughout the store. Tall (6'5ish) completely bald Africans that were obviously dressed like first gen migrants (Greasy polo shirts, jeans, sandals). They're all holding large sodas, trying very poorly to look distracted by their shitty androids that have been smashed 1000×. I unironically studied their physiognomy and concluded that they were likely from the same region of west Africa, same skull shape, height, facial structure, body language, etc. (Imfao).
Except for a pair, they were all by themselves, spending disproportionate amount of time in the gift card or office supplies aisle.
None of them ever bothered us except the guy at McDonald's staring at me, just got a gut feeling. We got our groceries and hurried out to the car, where she loaded while I watched the parking lot. I saw a couple more of the same variety in locations just like the first dude: hard to see them, blended in, but easy to observe from.
Several were across the little street outside a restaurant, watching as they smoked cigarettes. One or two were sitting in cars. All of them had a "prop", whether that was more mostly untouched large sodas, a cigarette, etc. They all had roughly the same height, outfit, mannerisms, etc.
My guess is the dude at McDonald's was a spotter, looking out for easy prey. He was drawn to gf because she appeared to be alone and an easy target. The guys outside could've been muscle, or more spotters for cops, idk. You might think I'm autistic, and I am for the physiognomy check, but all of these factors lined up in a way that made me very uneasy. Especially the dude deliberately staring back at me, like he was startled somebody would challenge him inside his little domain. Also, my city has a massive human trafficking problem. I asked a buddy who's a cop and he said it sounds exactly like the trafficking rings they will occasionally bust.
Send ‘em all back. Simple, really.
White women are so beautiful. I don’t know why men are attracted to anything other than white women. Sure, there’s some ugly white women. But, the average one on the street? The average one I passed walking to classes? Just so ethereally beautiful. Not even in a sexual way, more like admiring a painting. I could spend the rest of my days looking into a pair of blue eyes. Who could ever want to spend their life with anything else?
I was there for the Lo-Fi music goldrush of 2016 . One night (2015) while scrolling iFunny, I had accidentally clicked on collective. The first post was from a guy called Slavetothewave, and it was one of the now classic looping gifs of people walking in a futuristic city with lofi in the background. It blew me away. I had no idea that music could sound like that.
I asked the guy for more info, he told me the music came from an album called Harbor by Tomppabeats. We took a car ride to my grandparent’s house that week, and I listened to Harbor on loop the entire 12 hours there (and back) with no breaks. It was fascinating to me.
But, you guys know what happened. More people started dogpiling the genre. The amount of Lofi exploded, most of it being mediocre. People took core pieces of the aesthetic and ran them into the ground, milking it. We started getting crap like “Bart Simpson Wave” that invaded Lofi spaces.
This was one of my first times experiencing the Tragedy of the Commons.
It’s something that occurs again and again in modern life. Someone makes something cool, it hits the mainstream and gets stripped for parts and boiled down to a cliché of itself. I remember reading about the 90s Grunge guys getting mad about it, with all the imitator bands parroting their sound and ultimately corrupting the genre. People started associating the original acts with the copycats, and there wasn’t enough momentum for “No, they’re the originals!!” to protect ticket sales.
It’s a fact of life, and the internet, that you’ll do well to recognize: as the masses invade a space, that space invariably changes for the worse.
We even saw this on iFunny during every election year boom (Even 2012!). Although, I don’t think 2024 is going to bring in the same ocean of reddit off the streets that 2016 did.
Another easy example: Libertarianism. Now, I’m not a libertarian. But, it did used to attract some cool people: typically normal white men with an independent streak. Those guys were the true inheritors of the Classical Liberal vision that the Founding Fathers gave us. Even it’s thought leaders were guys (Jews xD) like Rothbard, von Mises, Hoppe, Friedman, both Pauls. I guess Ayn Rand. But, even if you disagreed with them you could accept that they were competent and interesting people. That changed in 2016, when the Libertarian party got its moment in the spotlight amidst record dissatisfaction with the 2 party system.
So how did they capitalize?
Erm..
They assembled a freak show of the dregs of society. Remember, these guys booed when someone said that there should be a law preventing 5 year olds from purchasing heroin. Because the market would “supply that enforcement” without a state. Le sigh. Anyway, they ran Gary Johnson, the figurehead of the ensuing wave of “Democrats with guns” that obliterated the party’s core. The party was diluted into nothing, subverted by the rogue wave of libtards dropping their bags off at Libertarian HQ because they wanted lower taxes for illegal immigrants or whatever.
This is why gatekeeping is so important. Part of what makes communities, online and IRL, special is that they’re exclusive. No, not everyone should make Lo-Fi. Not everyone can positively contribute to Dungeons and Dragons (And look what happened when it went mainstream!). No, your tiny Swiss Alpine village does not need to open its doors to anyone that arrives. No, every non-white on planet earth cannot be an American.
2020 iFunny Classic: On Chess
If you ever want to really gaze into someone's soul without saying a word, believe it or not, perhaps the best way to do so is by playing chess. Chess reveals more about someone's personality than most people would ever want you to know about them.
There’s lots of binaries in chess that help you build a picture of someone in your head. They can be brave or cautious, daring or reserved, reckless or cowardly, tough or easy to crack, relentless or timid etc etc.
If they play a typical playstyle you can tell they're a bit heady and intellectual-ish because they've taken the time to sit down and learn an opening. If not, they're usually willing to rely on their own cleverness and cunning. I’m not an Einstein, but I am a pretty good chess player. My ELO peaked in the low 1700s when I was playing consistently. I get a certain joy out of taking someone with more raw IQ than me and grinding them to dust on the board, seeing right through their improvised little traps. There’s no feeling like destroying people that don’t study theory because they’re used to beasting with their mental horsepower on the fly. I beat a very vocally autistic guy in college and he was visibly shaken afterwards, it was delicious.
People who "know the rules but don’t play often" generally buckle mentally, especially if you don’t go easy on them. It takes a special kind of person to finish a game they know they're going to lose.
Then there's the people who don't know how to play. Most are zoglets, too "low caste" (xD) to play a game of kings and knights. Really, they just can’t focus on something that doesn't have an immediate dopamine payout.
Occasionally though, you find people who don't know how to play but are willing to learn. This reveals more about them. Are they active listeners? Do they get easily confused? How willing are they to try? What does it say about someone if they don’t care for the game but care about making you happy or doing something you like?
How often do they want to play? Do they learn from their mistakes?
Shades of real world problems and reactions to the challenges of life flash on the chessboard. In chess there’s romance, war, betrayal, comedy, fear, desperation.
There’s a certain beauty.
Chess is the greatest game ever created, and is a window into one's soul. If you cant play, you're probably a Zoglet. Not all chess players are smart, but almost all smart people are chess players.
Learn and play 1 game daily!
Growing up, I wanted to be a child prodigy so bad. It bothered me to an unhealthy level when my friends would outperform me on something, even just a point or two on a test. I flung myself at typical child prodigy stuff: music, chess, math, sports, art, anything. I wanted to find something I was effortlessly world-class at. Well, I had aptitude in some of those, not in others. It was crushing to me.
One day, in 10th grade, we all had to take the military aptitude test. I don’t really know why, looking back. They assembled the whole grade, about 250 kids, in the auditorium and said the top 10 scores would be announced. One by one, kids made their way to the front while the others cheered. My name wasn’t called, and I was upset because I thought I did quite well. However, the administrator lady apparently decided on creating some drama because she said something like “And we saved our best score for last, [Layne] managed a perfect 99!”. I was ecstatic. I was a child prodigy!
Erm.. at what exactly? At taking tests?
Still, the thrill of that little ceremony boosted my ego for weeks. Stepping up on stage to rapturous applauds was like booze, especially knowing some of it came from Le Chads and Stacys. I’d beaten every kid that was naturally a better student than me, all of them!!
To end this story, it was funny seeing the kids that scored 85+ getting offered jobs like Navy Surgeon or Air Force Pilot. The kids that got below 50 were offered jobs like driving trucks and cooking food lmfao.
Kids can be so vicious to one another about this sort of thing, I certainly was. I started all these gay little conversations, starting with people that typically tested better than me, waiting for them to mention how I beat them. If they didn’t, then I brought it up. Again and again, like I was king of the world. I even called my parents and “informed them” of the recent development. Lmao
Protestantism hit the wall so hard, dude. Back in the day, they had some good points. The Catholic church was in need of serious reform, and it took a lot of cultural momentum to get people to even think of parting with it. That was the equivalent of treason in the time, and treason is not something people commit lightly.
Tradcath warriors online that miss this make themselves exposed to easy layups demonstrating clergy corruption, Papal office abuse, whatever.
But man, Protestantism aged so badly. Like a woman that is beautiful in her 20s before blimping tf out in her 30s, Protestantism was this seductive, alluring prospect.
It was the proverbial Pandora’s box of a Western Europe without Catholicism. How long had it been since that was even a thing, a millennium? And, the original Protestantism was very similar to Catholicism. That made it very palatable. Martin Libtard was a moderate, if you can believe it, and tried to halt Protestantism’s surge into completely new theological territory. There’s even evidence Luther intended it to be temporary, as the very word Protest-ant suggests. Protests don’t last forever.
So, they had a point 500 years ago. Today, Protestantism is the least serious, least respected branch on the dying tree of Christianity. They never really achieved cultural greatness, never quite matched the Catholics (or even the Orthodox) contribution to the Christian corpus or civilization in general. They made the devil’s bargain of shattering Christian unity and their reward was megachurch grifters, 40,000 denominations believing the most insane things imaginable, endless purity spiraling, and centuries of bloody conflict between Catholics and Protestants. Was it worth it, fellas?
Also, most Protestants converted along cultural lines. Different denominations were effectively proxies for ethnicities. Very little intermixing occurred, where a person might be logically persuaded to switch sides or something. That’s not a good sign for the group that overdosed on rationalism.
Protestantism hit the wall sometime in the early 1900s. In another 150 years, it will be basically extinct. Isn’t that crazy?
It has no vitality, no passion, it’s leaking practitioners by the year. In fact, England is a Catholic country again. Can you believe it? Well, its really a secular country, but there’s more practicing Catholics than Protestants. Non-Denominational churches are really the death throes of a religious movement that can’t gin up enough interest to make people pick a denomination anymore, or remember their ancestors’. They’ll soon dwarf every other Protestant denomination combined, and then the real die-off will begin.
I don’t mock Protestants too much because the death of Protestantism just means more people become Woke or secular, which is certainly not better. Still, there’s some Schadenfreude in seeing that fanatics that tried Hijacking the cockpit out from the Catholic Church’s hands have faceplanted and 9/11’d into nothingness in like 500 years. Protestantism, for all its good intentions, basically became the suicide vest that destroyed Christian dominance in Europe for all time.
Imagine being a European peasant in the early 1700s. Your family has been shoved into various meatgrinders for centuries, including some of the most brutal conflicts in human history, because of the Protestant-Catholic rift. Although, everyone knows these are really just the same old territorial wars with a religious dressing. Even the alternative to Catholicism is violent and repressive. You’d be ready to ride the Enlightenment wave too.
Also, why didn’t they just begomme Orthodox? :DDDD
I’ve written a bunch about how the dumb online can only really think and speak in killshots. One of my least favorite killshots is criticizing people for admitting there’s anything wrong with them. This suggests a serious mental imbalance, which makes sense given the history many neo-pagans, communists /tankies, and Anitards (three groups I see killshots from the most) have with mental and physical illness. Playing the character of flawless 150IQ 6’4 Waffen SS Aryan super soldier online is fine, I guess, but using this persona to attack others for trying to improve themselves is not helping anything.
I see this with those that present themselves as ultra sexually conservative. Yes, Porn addicts are weird and gross. But, the ones trying to fix it are not the ones you should be mocking. It’s like making fun of fat people at the gym. Consider the following excerpt:
The obvious connotation is people that “need help” quitting porn or w/e are Redditors. Some of them are, sure, especially the ones that assemble these stupid man-o-sphere “improvement glide paths” filled with influencer buzzwords and checklists so they can look like the Chad meme with 8 forms of passive income, a trophy wife, and drive a Lamborghini:
This one is funny.
But, set those people aside. Set religion aside too. If someone quits porn by imagining they’re God’s strongest Trad Cath Crusader or whatever, is that really the person we need to be picking on?
We all know how insidious the porn industry is. Its designed to be addictive. If someone is in the process of quitting porn, is that someone we should be dogging on for having been addicted in the first place? What does that accomplish?
Most iFunniers would metaphorically mutter something about how they’re not trying to accomplish anything, they just think its funny to mock porn addicts. Okay, it can be, I guess. But wailing on someone actively trying to improve their circumstances, especially when there’s so many retards that are “proud” of their porn addiction, is retarded. And it doesn’t have to be porn, I’ve seen people dogpile on someone was “outed” as fat despite having proof they were going to the gym.
Another thing, trying to dunk on Trads. Like I talked about in the tragedy of the commons thing, the Trad space has been invaded by retards. They’re the ones playing dolls with Wojak comics, typically with glaring issues of their own:
But, they’re still trending in the right direction. Even with their own cringe methods, they’re inching along towards something better than being a retarded normie. Wouldn’t you take a certified Chud over a bugperson? If playing dolls with Wojaks is what (initially) gets someone in the gym, the pews, the dating scene, is that really dunking material?
Some of the most retarded Trads are easy pickings for dunks, but I think we have to stop the contrarianism from attacking everything—including people that are more your “ally” than enemy. Don’t you want more fit, self-reliant, prosperous white people?
Bullying works. Bullying is an important part of socializing weird people, to get them to adapt to societal conventions. Just be selective in who you pick to bully.
Me after readin dis: “whoa……Layne Jackson is…..LITERALLY Me!” (Except the part where xe’s a fakecel)
Interkeksting, Perbraps, Witewawwy…..