Travelling blues

(The only real benefit of hotels is that with the wonders of housekeeping, you get to spend even more time on your dark thoughts, instead of being distracted by chores.)

The true hallmark of someone who’s depressed is not that he’s often found sitting alone in a corner crying, but that he doesn’t give a fuck about anything that’s going on around him—no matter how much he used to enjoy the happenings or how important they ought to be to him.

Here I am, in an arguably beautiful city, a place I haven’t visited in over a decade, and I still don’t have the slightest urge to pick up my camera and shoot a picture. Or leave the hotel and go out and see, or perhaps even do, something interesting. Or leave the bed of my hotel room and actually manage to step out and try to mingle.

Fuck.

I can’t believe that even while travelling, a bulk of my thoughts are devoted to feeling sorry for myself; frequently going over something that could only be described as “bullet points in a résumé mocking my pathetic existence.”

You know, the kinds that read “Relationships: Two, failed. Miserably. Plus one affair with a woman who was out of bounds.”

Cheery read that. Fuck.

I don’t even see the point of writing this anymore. I’m turning-off the lights now.

11 thoughts on “Travelling blues”

  1. It’s not the fact that those few relationships failed or an affair spiraled out of control.

    It’s the inability to easily get laid with shallow and pretty chicks and the failure to get those “interested/appreciative” glances from random girls you cross on the streets.

    That’s what leads one into self-loathing mode. If you had 3-4 fubu/gf to juggle in your life, the last thing you’d write is this post and the first thing you’d look for is tips on scheduling/multi-tasking! :-)

    Take it easy still, girls have a tougher life to live.

    Don’t start enjoying your misery so much that you accept it for ever. Fuck around at all cost so you don’t fuck yourself up!

    (With all due respect and concern, and in all seriousness, I mean it. I have been reading your travails for an year now)

    cheers,

    fellow retard

  2. You were taken seriously, and you are spot on. I cannot get across how on-target you are.

    I agree with everything but girls having it harder still. I don’t believe that’s the case, if they’re even remotely passable.

  3. And why do you call yourself a “fellow retard?”

    Anyway, this sort of thing is close to my heart. I’ve evolved somewhat and luck’s played its part from time to time, but clearly things are not all right.

    And oh, it’s a coincidence that I ran into this article earlier today. In it, the author argues that since

    o women often aren’t up for emotionless fuck-buddying,
    o one doesn’t fall in love very often,
    o and the only real alternative—lying—to get them to bed is immoral,

    it’s OK to pay for sex. I am trying to find a flaw in that logic.

  4. I call myself so because most of your entries read like what I’d write in my diary if I was articulate and passionate about writing. I am guessing that we share our delusions and disorientation, in bits, if not almost completely.

    I never quite recovered from my platonic relationship with my high school sweetheart. When we broke up on silly pretexts, she was lapped up by willing and far better guys and she ended up getting her cherry plucked to some random asshole she’s not going to marry.

    And I with all my vows of respect, trust and undying love was reduced to a shattered and bitter onanist.

    Needless to say, I diverted my attention to computers and the internet. I believe, based on conviction and experience, that nothing dumbs you down more than the internet. The more I spent time with the Internet, the less time I spent with my female friends or on going out. I started over analyzing situations and people. More so in case of girls. And that’s the bane of smart/intellectuals.

    You have to be instinctive and driven by your urge & senses to attract the kind of attention that leads to undressing.

    I’ve been polemic and eloquent in my circle of friends but it did not help me get laid. Girls prefer to keep it simple. Who’d want to have sex with someone they can’t figure out. Just like we want to have meaningless sex for vindication and validation, girls too want fun without being judged or analyzed. It took me years to understand that. Dating sites and books don’t help because they try to provoke you by talking about confidence and pickup strategies. The truth is, 5 minutes after you’ve spieled, the girl can read your eyes and tell if you are really a horny jerk or a despo trying to run a polymorphic seduction algorithm. I let go of myself esteem and became shameless about my libido without becoming a beggar in front of girls. It helped a lot.

    And once you have a girl all over you, others rush in. It’s ironical but that’s the case, girls chase those pursued by other girls. If a girl sees a girl who’s prettier than her chase you, 9 out of 10 times, she’s gonna feel attracted to you.

    To cite my own case, since I got this pretty girl to date and do it with me, I’ve been chased by half a dozen girls for straight favors expressed subtly. None of them even noticed me before she came along. I cannot tell the weird and nasty stuff we do and she’s trying to rope in a pretty girl who’s bi to get into a threesome with us. Talk about the ironies of life.

    Until you start seeing yourself as an unapologetic and aggressive sexual creature with a naughty sense of humor (funny is not sexy!), girls wouldn’t see you the way you want them to see you. Unlike guys, girls love with eyes and ear, so dress attractively and speak stuff that would tickle their panties, not their intellect. You are aiming too high with brainy wit, stoop down below waist and take aim.

    I read that slashdot post yesterday and I know it as much as you do. We aren’t happy that way, so let’s not use eloquence to cloak the depression and dejection. It’s the impulses that makes us human. If I was a prophet, I must have been told beforehand. So, I’ll submit to what pleases me. Enough said.

    On the topic of sex for money, well, sex for money is cheaper than sex for free. If you know what I mean. You go on date and there is tension in your balls on whether you’d get to exchange fluids. Paid practices are wonderful in the sense that it kinda desensitizes you to an extent towards sex and allows you to interact with a girl like a normal creature and not like a beggar would look at a Wendy’s burger.

    Not to mention that if you visit the same provider again and again and befriend her, she will teach you more about women, their impulses, their sex drive, their body and the initiation to completion routine than anyone would ever disclose.

    In fact, to your surprise, she might let you know the art of arousal and foreplay, stuff you wouldn’t expect to learn from such a rendezvous.

    So don’t fall for the traps of morality, it’s designed to keep the hungry away from the obese. It’s funny how morality doesn’t apply to William, Dubya and Paris but applies to a struggling dude trying to find some cue on social dynamics by paying for it.

    And don’t listen to girl’s version on morality and sex-for-money. What girls say they like and what they actually like is completely different. Girls have perfected the art of self-deception to such extent that even the nicer girls would walk straight into an asshole’s pants and then rant about how really they wish to be with a nice guy.

    I guess I should stop rambling here. Hope I was able to convey some of my views and experiences in a way, they’d make sense, if not perfect sense.

    You only have 1 life to live. That’s all you can be sure of. So fuck everything else and try to do what you want instead of repressing it. You wouldn’t want to regret like me over not having fooled around when it was the best time of my life. I mean, the only time of your life when you can bang tight and shapely minor teens is when you are a teen yourself. I missed my chance because of the lofty notions of better pursuits and intellectual tastes while my friends wrecked hymens all around.

    Don’t miss the bus, it’s still not too late. What you do now won’t matter 1-2-5 years from now. So, go ahead and live out.

    Even Neo had a smoking hot Trinity for Chrissake. There is more to life than Slashdot and computers. Feel the skirt over her skin in a club or caress her long hairs in bed. Or better still, hold the back of her soft neck and touch those lips and you would understand what is horribly wrong with nerds and the Lara Croft culture. They have given up on the real sensation. They’ve resigned. You must not.

    cheers!

    fellow retard

    p.s. I still believe it’s tougher for girls. I can’t imagine taking dicks up my ass or sucking them and swallowing all that slime. They do it.

  5. Bravo. Some of what you said I’ve experienced, some I knew but didn’t want to accept. I’m letting it all sink in.

    I don’t know what you’re talking about when you say “if you were articulate and passionate about writing.” Because it’s clear that you are. Could I repost the contents of your comment as a guest post, lest the contents otherwise go unnoticed?

    I still disagree that it’s harder for girls, for “taking dicks up my ass or sucking them and swallowing all that slime” seem enjoyable to me.

  6. hi,

    I try to stay away from internet on the weekends. So I am only replying now, on a Monday morning.

    From profound revelations while taking a dump to enlightening observations while walking on street, there are simply so many things in life that I feel I can write about but cannot. It’s difficult to encapsulate the entire spectrum of emotions triggered when you feel uncommonly affected by the world around you. Any attempt to write it down seems to reduce it to a whining, pseudo-intellectual musing that is so typical of a lot of blogs. And then I begin to wonder what might be a good reason to write something down. In old days, it made sense to write down diary entries you were sure no one would read for a long time to come. Those entries were your mirror into the past when you grew up. Today, it’s ironical for me to write about my life so my friends can post their comments.

    What I do, is to confront my friends with my insecurities, doubts and dilemmas. We discuss it in details and dissect our problems, not in a ‘world is so not the place for people like me’ way, we do it practically. Luckily, it seems to work, at least for now, the old style. In my humble opinion, the value of face-to-face conversations is immense compared to comments on blog although blogs themselves are of lasting value.

    Moreover, I have nothing insightful to offer, even my dispositions are quite nomadic and mostly normative to people I am with. I wonder if I can sincerely maintain a blog that will rival the intrinsic value of Lindsay’s mySpace. Plus, I am too much of a wreck to start anything creative that requires discipline! :-)

    That perhaps, if not certainly, may explain why I said I am not articulate enough to pass my standards of self-expression.

    Talking of guest post, well, I am humbled and flattered, slightly embarrassed too. Please feel free to repost. I trust you to put not anything more than my name and email for citation, but I’ve left you the link to my profile, so you’d get to know me. Get in touch if you are there on that “social network”. :-P

    Lastly, you have to promise to help me set up justified text alignment for my blog if and when I start! :-P

    cheers!

    fellow retard

  7. I forgot the Website link would show up in comments!

    Loss of anonymity and subsequent doom is imminent! :-)

  8. You seem to assume that everyone has ‘friends’ to discuss things with. For those who don’t, pseudo-intellectual rants with sometimes helpful insight from strangers is about as good as they can get. And they’ll live with what they have.

    I am not a member of social networks, because along the lines of what you’d written earlier, I chose not to escape to the internet to feel like I have social connections when in reality I have none. So you’re as anonymous as you were, and I will remove the link here to be doubly sure.

Comments are closed.