Thursday, 13 December 2012


It's everything in bitter conflict, pirouetting, coalescing, dying, numb numb numb. An admixture of hate, well maybe hate is not really the right word. You feel like every cell, down to the lowest Mitochondria, is about to get sick. But you can't get sick. Think of a metaphysical black hole, with everything sucked in, a vicious torpor, vertiginous, and we're done. This started when I was 18. These mood swings. These descents into the seventh circle, coming out of nowhere. Boundless infinity made you dream, but now? What I'm talking about is the inexpressible in language. It may be nonsensical, but the sentence has a sense, if you get me. This yarn was added to with confusion, fear and just utter loneliness, doth the soul be a smithy?

I couldn't tell anyone. Tell my parents, members of the "safety first!" generation and I'm another honorary member of the SSRI club and "Hey how u doing?" psychology club. Couldn't do it. So there were those times staring at the ceiling. Nothing has gone wrong, but you find it hard to move. You are scared you will never feel joy again. The mood swings got more and more serious. You start cutting yourself.  Approaching, interacting with people was an acting performance on par with Hollywood's finest. Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood level shite we're talking here, I was that fucking good at it. There goes Francis, the mad fucking fiend! Legend! Oh, he's not (ddddddd) coming (dddddddd) out, wonder why that is? Thanks be to god, this wasn't the great White Shark, clinical depression of the mind. I dated a woman with that for a while. Funny enough, she was the one I cared about the most. 

In a series of posts way back, Roosh talked about health nuts and their approach to life. Danger and Play responded, saying what he does is done to keep his grasp on the ephemeral, youth itself. Roosh's approach was, "this is all we have, no need to worry" and whatnot. My answer to that question is this. When I started eating paleo, tossing some weights around, the thing, this deep down, intrinsic pain which was the epitome of endogenous depression. pretty much stopped. Amazing. Utterly amazing. Flabbergasted. My mood swings, my shouting into a dark room with nary a light, it fell by around, 90 or so percent. I still get those swings, but even then, out of the few I've had now, they were all bad food related. Six months after I found the manosphere, I was eating clean, eating paleo and acting the hard arse in the gym. And it stopped. So, this got me thinking a bit, on the topic of diet and nutrition. First, I'm not special, not even remotely. Most of us, as I've discussed earlier, fall around the mean of the bell curve in some shape or form. If that is the case so, then there will be a plethora of people out there in the same boat as myself, and to conclude, if this was the case, then how many cases of depression out there for people, which might be getting worse and worse, are there due to bad diet and grains? All that suffering, all that bullshit, all that Big Pharma Cheshire Cat grin stuff, which can be solved with nothing more than more meat and vegetables and less bread in the oven? 

Now, obviously I'm not saying that no one need SSRIs and whatnot. What I am saying is that the simplest answer is often the best. There is a nasty tendency of people to over intellectualize things which are best left alone, when it is best to gawp in their wonder. No, your not a cigender hetronormative pansexual multiculturist. You are a biological male. No, your abtruse mathemathial neo keynsian model is not effective, when some clear cut Austrian School logic is. Gee, I wonder why so many of those guys predicted the housing crash and neoclassical hacks didn't? No, you don't need to take all these fucking tablets. Hunter gatherer tribes robust, strong, and living without the diseases of modern civilisation? Ignore that. Fuck that shit. Take this pink pill to get rid of your ass cancer!

One of the defining characteristics of this epoch is the fight, no the war, between discipline, triumph, celebrating life in and of itself, and gluttony, sloth, and being numbed to the bone by mindless, superficial entertainment. The war between randomness, thrills and post traumatic growth, and the soccer mom who tries to protect her kid by smothering and the "do what you feel is right (translation: do what you think is easiest) meme. This is what civilisation needs. Knowledge isn't figuring out stuff. Half the time it's stumbling around in the dark blindfolded and making this amazing discovery. I guess that is what I despise about university the most, and that is the truth.

I've lost a lot of motivation to do anything in the past three weeks. I've been eating shit, haven't been going to the gym, and only the couple of successful approaches along my way. I've been losing out there. My plan in the next while is a simple one. I plan to bulk up properly, I will lift weights a lot. I will use discipline to break through my physical limits. Next year will be an important one. 

So, to sum up, a good diet may be the cure for depression. Screw living longer, shitting yourself in a nursing home. Fuck trying to keep onto your youth. Eating well and throwing weights around is about feeling better, even, amidst the man tittied losers, more of a man, more of an object taking up and having an influence on space, being and time itself.


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