I am a Self-Aware Lolcow

the loser-winner mindset.

I write too much. Rather than choosing the pithy, laconic, straight-forward way to communicate, I’m trying to get lost in the sauce. I don’t have drugs: I have writing.

I don’t remember saying “we should steer young men down more profitable paths.” I don’t even know what that means, substantively. As opposed to what? As opposed to counseling them to be losers? Maybe I really did write this kind of tautological trite truism, “don’t be a loser — young men must be steered away from beign a loser.”

The reason that I do not know what I wrote is because I’m not going to go back and check what I wrote, because that would only accomplish one thing:

• It would lead me to attempt to “clarify” and “rationalize” and say “well acktually I am always consistent and you have just misinterpreted me.”

I don’t believe in misinterpretation. There is only interpretation. No “mis.”

Everything I write is surrounded by a field of potential energy. Sometimes that potential energy stretches out into an infinite field of light, and sometimes it dips down into caverns of darkness, and sometimes it races out into endless fields of fractals, and sometimes it intensifies within itself as a singular point.

The power of writing is to force an interpretation upon the reader — with their consent, of course. It’s seduction. You read because you want to read, but at the same time, the reader wants to be dominated. The author is your father and God.¹

I experience this too, when I read something good: I am rapt (don’t ask me about the etymology of that word).

I am engrossed. I am forced to read onwards. It changes the way that I think.

This isn’t just writing; it is all art. Really, it is all communication.

Here’s a fascinating thing about me: sex, for me, is like a secondary characteristic. That is, there are these large swiss cheese holes that constantly widen themselves, and I just have to fill them up with whatever is available. If that’s sex or porn, sure, that works. Fine. I’ll use that. But I can use writing, and I can use calling a friend on the phone. Sometimes I use my secret telegram group.

But recently I’ve started to fill it with something new, or at least, a variation that I haven’t previously fully explored. I’ve been obsessively watching PUA videos. Not the explanations — I’m not really interested in hearing about “the redpill” or “hypergamy” or any of that. What I’m interested in is seeing, from the first person perspective, men talk to women. Specifically, young men, ages 21 to 25. I vicariously live through them.

I’ve been doing this for the last… ok, it’s 9:14pm as I write this, on February 15th, and I woke up around 4pm on Valentine’s Day, I think. So I’ve been awake for well over 24 hours verging on 30 hours. I will probably be up another 6 hours before I collapse at 3am, and then wake up at 3pm. It’s very unhealthy.

The reason why this “is happening to me again” is because I turned on the wifi in my airbnb. I knew this was a bad decision when I made it, but all it takes it one bad decision for me to be sliding on the slippery slopes.

I’m explaining all of this because there are two ways to look at personal advice:

1. On the one hand, you should want to listen carefully to people who have done things right. That seems obvious.

2. On the other hand, maybe there’s something to be learned from the mistakes of others.

A pattern that I have noticed in my life concerns my friend Bob. Here’s what happens:

1. Something will disturb my life. In this case, it’s Valentine’s Day. For single men, this is a time for us to mourn our ex’s.

2. Then, I will enter this manic trance-state where nothing can disturb me whatsoever — I am so powered up that nothing can bring me down.

3. Then, I will communicate this, in one way or another. I might write an “authoritative soundign article” on how men should be. Or, I might give advice to my friend Bob.

I don’t want to dive too deeply into Bob, but in the most general terms, here’s what happens:

1. Bob mentions some kind of problem — it could even be something minor or not worth thinking too much about.

2. Then, I leap into action to begin talking about infinite love, philosophy, truth, God, and I just go for hours ranting about how life is perfectly simple, and we all have infinite freedom and agency, and we simply need to become aware through child-like consciousness of this free agency and make a choice to open ourselves to the beauty of the universe.

3. Almost immediately afterwards, I stay up through the night for a ~30 hour period afterwards, which causes me to crash and burn.

4. I realize that my self-confidence was an unstable illusion and it almost feels as if the self-confidence caused the crash.

5. Wow. That’s embarrassing. I should really stop giving advice.

This is a flaw of mine. It leads to really strange behavior, like I’m watching this Russian guy roam the streets of Miami asking out 50 girls every night, wasting no more than 2 minutes of time on each one. He is a machine. His success rate is seemingly very high — he posts some of his failures, but maybe not all of them.

what a handsome young man

Anyway, these clips range between 30 seconds and 2 minutes each, and I’m going through hundreds of them.

The fact that I am doing this particular task makes no rational sense, but I could substitute it with many other things: playing bullet chess, Minecraft, chopping trees in Runescape…

But the interesting part for me is that I am full-on gooning to these videos, they are more sexual to me that porn itself. The emotional connection between the man and the woman is more erotic to me than the naked body.

After finally cumming and deciding “enough is enough,” I see this message in my inbox, which is telling me that apparently I said things which now, from my current vantage point, seem distant and contradictory.

I self-sabotage, doubt, and tear myself down, but not all the time. I’m far too productive for that to be the case. I’m not even doing it right now, although the brutally honest manner of my writing might sound self-critical, I am actually just being objective. My ability to share these things is an act of apathy.

I have a carpal tunnel flare up in my right wrist from using it to click-scroll for too many hours straight, and I am tired, and I know every night with insomnia increases my risk of elderly dementia, and these are all bad things. However, I don’t feel intense shame right now. Maybe I should feel this:

• A young man has come to me seeking advice and guidance. It is my responsibility to “play the man,” to put on a face, to occupy the archetype of a leader who can be inspiring, who has his shit together, a role model to look up to.

I desire this too, and I have also felt disppointment when the role model I wanted turned out to be a fake.

Who is “we”? “We should steer young men” — who is we? We begins with I, and I should… clean my room, get my own house in order.

Honestly, I appreciate the opportunities, but Richard Spencer has been making it hard for me. He keeps requesting interviews. I have two options: I can spend $100 on a hotel for a night (which usually includes insomnia because I am a sensitive little flower), or I can have internet at home, which will lead to a month of sleep deprivation and misery.

I am not functioning at the standard level, in this regard.

On the one hand, I could say, “but I am such an amazing genius that I make up for it.” Or, perhaps the genius and the failure are the exact same thing, two sides of the same coin.

Even if “I” was steering young men in the right direction, who is “we”? I don’t take these semantic points lightly. Are we doing Jordan Peterson, Tony Robbins, Jesus Christ self-help seminars? Are “we” a thing?

I don’t mean to ask that question cynically or dismissively. Rather I acknowledge that “we” exist, but I am inviting “us” to think consciously about this.

“We” comes with responsibility and duty. This is a very strange thing for me, because it means that there is a heavy weight on my shoulders, but I never hug anyone. The duty feels like a punishment, and I am in a self-imposed solitary confinement of the city. No rewards.

I relate to Worst Boyfriend Ever because he uses drugs as a coping mechanism to get what he wants, to survive and thrive, to get from point A to point B, to escape those crushing moments of sobriety. I also think that you can find nuggets of truth and goodness in his writing, even if… it’s not what I would call “the Platonic parable of goodness.”

What I find interesting about WBE is that he constantly combines the loser mindset with this narcissistic undefeatable conviction that he will win. He must win. The winner mindset.

When I talk about how writing is perceived or interpreted, I take that very seriously. Everything that anyone writes contains within it an infinite subspace field of potential.

Like this paragraph, for example. Part of me is asking: what is the question here? Is this a semantic error? Grammatical mistake? What am I looking at?

Then another part of me things about how human vulnerability works. When people ask for advice, I find that two things are true:

1. they do not want advice

2. they are seeking permission, faith, and certainty

Oh, and a third thing:

3. They do not want to admit their own vulnerability and desire for God, because that’s what faith is.

You don’t have to be a monotheist, that’s fine, but you should be a polytheistic realist. Gods clearly exist as the fundamental motive force within human life.

Former relationships die and rise into heaven to become Gods of my life. I replay the 12-act play in my head, to try to have some finality about where I went wrong, where I could have redeemed myself and turned a tragedy into a comedy. The ritual play is an act of worship.

Gods are nested like Russian dolls. You have little Gods nested inside big Gods; or, alteratively, within a big flashy God you have a “true” inner core. I call one inner core the “Mother Mary,” and within this, there is Jung’s “anima.”

Even when I conceive of an important person in my life who has become God-like in my obsession over them, there are different aspects: our happy moments togerher; our annoyances with one another. These create complexities and fractals within the God.

Mythology is just a story; relationships are just stories. A relationship is a religion.

I am Deep Left; I am a minor God. In fact, we are all Gods, but not equally so. Some are larger, some are smaller, and we are all nested within a larger hierarchy of Gods.

Who would I be without Richard Hanania, and so many other people who promoted me? Angela Nagle, Alex Kaschuta… (sp?)… I should be sending these people thank you notes, although something I think they regret creating Frankenstein’s Monster. I write so much that is genuinely bad — yes I write genuinely good things too, but the high variance of my writing is hard to swallow. It’s exhausting.

Someone like Hanania or any of these other e-celebs tends to be much more stable, I have found. I think I burn people out because I just can’t help but say things that are sort of abrasive and ultimately self-destructive. But that’s part of my God archetype.

Really I’m not saying anything different from Platonism, which is that the soul has a nested series of hierarchies, and at the core of the soul is the universal soul, God. I’m just using sillier language to describe it.

But this is the fundamental quesiton I am avoiding:

• Can the loser be saved? Or should we focus on saving those who have not yet fallen?

This is a RIDICULOUS! question. But it is an obvious one, and one that I ask myself in various ways. It is doubt incarnate.

Listen to me: if you take away anything from this, good or bad, it is two things:

1. We cannot change our biology. If you are neurotic, self-doubt will plague you as a biological reality, and there’s nothing you can do to change that biological reality. You cannot “prevent yourself from becoming a loser”; you cannot “save yourself from being a loser.” Loserdom will always threaten you at the gates, trying to come in your house and fuckup your shit.

2. HOWEVER, while biology is completely static (ok there is diet and exercise, bla blabh I have done this perfectly at times and it doens’t solvetheproblem…

WHILE BIOLOGY IS STATIC, there is a spirit which is beyond mere biology. This is because, although you and I may be neurotic, we have GODS! Imagine me screaming that at the top of my lungs!

Nazis have ADOLF HITLER! Christians have YAHWEH! Pagan have MARVEL MOVIES! Conservatives have TRUMP! Each of these Gods is powerful in his own way. We can make fun of the opposition, and say Hitler had one ball, and Yahweh is a psychopath, and marvel movies are lame, and Trump is a pedophile… But this is just Zoroastrian revisionism. The truth is that we experience Gods because that experience is itself real, even if the sign or symbol we attach it to is false.

In this sense, I am a God even despite myself. No matter how hard I fail, I will always be a God, or at least an angel or a daemon, because I am a representative of a certain kind of spirit which is outside of me and beyond me. It is not merely mortal.

When people read me, and they perceive that spirit, they have having an experience of a living God. That God flows through me into you, and we are all touched by him. I sometimes refer to “the Muses” in the feminine, but there is of course a masculine counter-part to this phenomenon, and maybe something beyond, like a spirit of pure animalistic nature.

GOD! I love this God, and I worship this God, and every word that you read, you participate in this worship too! This is our religion!

As I say this, I am conjuring different emotions in the space of interpretation:

• some of you are FUCKING FIRED UP right now and ready to take on the world

• some of you are disturbed and concerned, practicing a maternal form of empathy for my seemingly volatile mental state

• some of you are turned off or even annoyed. Seriously? Pagan slop? Spiritual mumbo-jumbo? I came here for analysis, not schizophrenia!

I’m right here with you. I am listening to my own thoughts as I type them out, in real time, I can see the 5 dimensional space through which my thoughts move, leaving a trail behind them like a shooting star. I recognize the diversity of interpretation. I am pushing for love and hatred; I am seeking to avoid apathy and annoyance.

I don’t know if the tear in my eye is a product of sheer exhaustion, an emission of saline fluid as a result of many hours without rest, or if it was triggered by emotional turmoil.

“worth reaching” — this is morality. This is “we.” This is our duty to our fellow man.

For my part, I have narrowed the scope of my life to writing. If I blocked everyone in my phone, and never spoke to them again, I think a few people might be sad or disappointed, right? But I think they would all survive.

The Deep Left, however, is my baby, and I am the father. If I don’t give this thing my 100%, then I have the death of an infant on my hands. There is nothing that I won’t do, there is nothing I won’t do to avoid being that loser, that loser who gave up on his dreams, that loser who quit when it got tough.

And now the moisture in my eyes is emotional.

I think of Tom Platz, my favorite bodybuilder, and his voice, the voice of God.

I would rather die than acknowledge to myself that I’m that loser. I do not ever want to say that “there is something more I could have done.”

There is nothing I won’t do to avoid being that loser.

What does it mean to be a loser?

A loser is a slave.

The loser is not willing to die.

One can conceive of the loser as one who is insufficiently brave, as if bravery is a positive quantity which fills up our soul.

On the other hand, one can conceive of the loser as one with a surplus of fear.

I prefer the latter definition.

I do not believe that the soul can gain or lose energy. The soul is a divine object — just as matter cannot be created or destroyed, NOTHING CAN BE ADDED OR SUBTRACTED FROM THE ENERGY OF THE SOUL.

Each soul has, from the moment of its creation (or incarnation), a set amount of energy. But how does this energy express itself?

Most of the energy of the soul is consumed by fear, the fear of death. In the fear of death, we have many social representations: the fear of rejection, loneliness, alienation, abandonment, betrayal, disappointment, separation, coldness, distance, irrelevance, neglect…

Yes, the soul is directed by the biological drive toward survival, so that the energy of the soul is HIJACKED by the intelligence of a cockroach, a bug-man, whose only purpose is to survive. Take zero social risks; hide; suppress your energy; play it safe.

In embracing death, the energy of the soul is unleashed.

Children are weak, but they have not yet learned many of the social fears which weigh us down. Thus, their souls are more free, and their energy naturally flows.

This is why I believe that things like bravery, discipline, willpower, and all other virtues are illusins. In the absence of fear, the soul gravitates naturally, like water, toward what is good — this is the erotic good toward which we are compelled to worship the beautiful and powerful man. You cannot help but become erect, electrically charged, at the sight of a truly beautiful man, not just beautiful because of some outer “looksmaxed” shell, but because his spirit flows out of him and touches all upon whom his gaze falls. He is the savior.

I was supposed to write an article contrasting Zyzz with Clavicular. Clav is more intelligent, and less of a jokester. Part of his image is appearing stoic and unaffected. Zyzz was “jestermaxing.”

Zyzz comes off to me as the more authentic character. Maybe Clav is genuinely autistic and has no desire to put on a performance, but putting on a performance is the most “real” thing that any of us can do.

I don’t deny the practical value of moderation. I’m sure that if someone were to turn down the volatility of my emotions, I would be in a profoundly better place, by certain metrics. Clav will outlast Zyzz and make more money.

But although moderation is in the interest of the individual, it does not seem to me to be the solution to loserdom.

I am suggesting that the loser mentality can only be overcome by self-sacrifice — not in physical terms, but psychologically, acknowledging your own self as illusory.

The idea that people can or should “slowly build themselves up” only makes sense if the individual is healthy enough to do so. If you are capable of “slowly building habits over time,” go ahead! have at it! I am not stopping you!

But with regard to this concept of the loser as somethign self-defeating, self-sabotaging, soemthing which defies all advice, all therapy, all strategies, because it is rooted in self-hatred… That requires a stronger medicine than “incremenetal healthy habits.”

I believe in a total war of the soul. Perhaps if I did not deal with this problem myself, I would have a different perspective. What position is the sick patient in to diagnose and cure himself? Not a good one — but this is why I believe it is necessary to destroy the self entirely, so that higher forces can emerge.

When the shallow, fearful self crowds out everything else, it absorbs all energy like a parasite. Eckhart Tolle speaks of this in The Power of Now. It is the pain-body.

Conclusion

If you would like to understand more about the relationship between parasocial ecelebs, aspirational models, and the concept of love, I suggest you read this essay. Is is much more sober and measured. In fact, I wrote these essays back to back.

Often times, I feel the need to pour out my emotions in order to then come to a place of Stoicism where I can begin the express myself clearly. Much of what I write is not intended to change the audience, but to change my own emotional state.

This essay, therefore, was my own attempt to escape the loser mindset.

I write many essays weeks in advance. Then, after publishing them, I have an incredible urge for their opposite. So if I triumphantly declare victory over looksmaxers in one article, and then become obsessed with vicarious pick-up artistry in the next article, this is just who I am.

I could theoretically exercise more “self-control,” although I argue against that concept in this essay. What is interesting to me is the concept of “reciprocal urges” — that as I express a strong and fixed determination, which one might call Apollonian, it produces a powerful need for catharsis in the urge toward the unbounded Dionysian.

1. Men who enjoy reading women also enjoy the Dominatrix.