Waterstones is removing Amazon’s Kindle devices from many of it
stores as sales “continue to be pitiful”.
The company’s m.d James Daunt said there had been no sign of a
“bounce” in Kindle sales, so the company was “taking the display
space back” to use for physical books instead.
He told The Bookseller: “Sales of Kindles continue to be pitiful
so we are taking the display space back in more and more shops. It
feels very much like the life of one of those inexplicable
bestsellers; one day piles and piles, selling like fury; the next
you count your blessings with every sale because it brings you
closer to getting it off your shelves forever to make way for
something new. Sometimes, of course, they ‘bounce’ but no sign yet
of this being the case with Kindles.”
Easiest explanation for this is that Kindle users are Amazon users, and Amazon users buy their Kindles direct from Amazon. I’ve owned a few Kindles over the years, and it never even occurred to me to buy one anywhere else.
Adam Wagner is good on the inappropriate use of the law to enforce what should properly be considered matters of politeness in online discourse:
The problem is that once the state starts policing speech and thought, this tends to be the thin end of the wedge. People become frightened to say what they feel and instead say what they think they ought to say. Such a climate would undoubtedly place a chill on the wonderful, bizarre, entertaining, sometimes concerning but always interesting world of social media. And that would be bad for everyone.
High-profile recent cases include that of Azher Ahmed, who was convicted for writing on Facebook that British soldiers should "die and go to hell" - an opinion that many people will not agree with, but which surely struggles to reach the threshold of "grossly offensive" under s 127 of the Communications Act, which was the law used against him. Ahmed was "let off" with community service, because he apologised and deleted the comments soon after they were made. The district judge, however, suggested that the remarks in themselves were sufficient to send him to jail and that Ahmed had "failed to live up to" the "responsibility" that comes with freedom of speech. His culpability was increased, in the judge's view, because someone else had taken it upon themselves to circulate the address of someone else with a similar name, and various thugs had intimidated an innocent family at home as a result. Meanwhile, 20 year old Matthew Woods has been jailed for twelve weeks for making tasteless jokes about missing five-year-old April Jones. Not a nice thing to do, but it seems to have amounted to much more than "a moment of drunken stupidity. When the comedian Justin Lee Collins gets community service for conducting a sustained campaign of violent harassment against his former partner it seems hugely disproportionate. But perhaps it's a different rule for comedians. As Adam Wagner notes, Frankie Boyle hasn't yet had his collar felt for any of his outrageous "jokes", the latest of which suggested that the reward for all Jimmy Savile's charity work will have been "the opportunity to shag Madeleine McCann in heaven".
The DPP is currently (with some help from Twittering lawyers) consulting on new guidelines on where to draw the boundary of "acceptable speech" online. The problem doesn't just concern the exciting new world of social media, though. Section 5 of the Public Order Act 1986 is still with us, criminalising any behaviour liable to cause "harassment, alarm or distress", a provision which would appear to be a stranger to the entire concept of free speech. Barry Thew has today been jailed for eight months under the POA for wearing an offensive T-shirt.
Thew sported the T-shirt with the hand-scrawled slogan "one less pig - perfect justice" in Radcliffe town centre hours after the murder of policewomen Fiona Bone and Nicola Hughes, an act which chief inspector Bryn Williams, speaking after the trial, described as "morally reprehensible". The sentence worked out at four months for the T-shirt, and a further four months for breaching his bail conditions. It's not clear what the breach entailed, but it could well have been getting himself arrested, in which case the whole sentence was T-shirt related. But whether it's four months or eight, it's still a ridiculous sentence.
Prosecutions for "offensiveness", whether they involve Facebook messages or slogans worn on t-shirts, amount to a legal doctrine that people have a right not to have their feelings hurt, indeed that it should be a crime to cause another person emotional distress. That, of course, is the argument made by those who want further restrictions on free speech where religous sensibilities are involved, something akin to a new law of blasphemy. In that case, the danger of protecting religion from criticism has, so far, remained sufficiently obvious to keep the the opponents of free speech at bay. But it's surely inconsistent to deny the deeply felt religious convictions of people the legal redress offered to the more immediate emotions of bereaved relatives and colleagues of soldiers or police officers. It's certainly inconsistent to lock up "offensive" T-shirt wearers while condemning Russia's treatment of the punk band Pussy Riot for upsetting Orthodox worshippers at the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour.
Chief Inspector Williams made a point of noting that "the overwhelming response from the public, who have inundated us with messages of support and condolence, proves that Thew is the exception and not the rule and our communities were right behind us at our darkest hour." This is obviously true; but it's not obviously a reason to prosecute and jail someone for not sharing the general opinion. On the contrary, the existence of a social consensus of acceptable behaviour is more than adequate in itself without recourse to the law. If bereaved relatives are upset by isolated incidents of unpleasantness, are they not also comforted by the support and good-will offered by many thousands of people unknown to them, and do not messages of the latter sort outnumber the former many, many times?
I find it especially disturbing that in many of these cases prosecutions have been brought after members of the public reported the offensive conduct to the police. Rather than demonstrating their personal distaste for the sentiments by condemning the culprit to his face, people preferred to do so by demanding criminal sanctions. Wagner notes that a group of around 50 members of the public cheered when Woods was sentenced for his Facebook message. Free speech is not particularly popular in modern Britain. The public here has never been terribly liberal, but I think we're also dealing with the erosion of the idea of social space as something self-policing and independent of the state, just as politicians in recent years (not just New Labour ones) have often been unable to distinguish between disapproving of something and wanting to ban it. The gap between "I don't like X" and "people who do X should go to jail" should be a lot wider than it seems to have become.
When a cake is filled and frosted - a protein cake, at that - things can get a little messy. Not in the sense of creating a mess in the kitchen that makes me want to google 'local cleaning companies' but messy in the sense of them leading to posts that are packed full of superlatives, exclamation marks, capital letters, and excessive outbursts of AAAAA! Ready? Because I'm going to give you this recipe in a cool, calm, composed, and very professional manner.
Begin by making a simple brownie cake. I made the cake in a loaf-pan because I wanted to get two rectangular 'cake-shaped' slices. I didn't want a whole cake, I just wanted two slices and this was the easiest way to do it. I realize that this 'method' is somewhat unorthodox but, hey, why not? If you'd like to make a whole (round) cake, double the amounts and bake the batter inside a a round cake pan - a 9 or 10 inch one would do. What I did was cut off the edges from the cake when it came out of the bread-loaf-pan so as to end up with more or less a square. Then, as you can see in the photographs above, I cut this diagonally. Then, I cut each piece horizontally in half. Here is the recipe for the cake:
Ingredients - blended together and baked at 170 C (338 F) for about 25 minutes. I baked it inside a loaf-pan. If you want to make a proper round cake out of it, bake for longer (if you're doubling the amounts, for example, bake for 40 minutes):
1 pot of quark (250g - you can sub this with cottage cheese) 1 cup of liquid egg whites 1/2 cup of pea protein powder
1/8 cup of 100% cocoa pow 1/2 cup of coconut milk 3 tbsp of toffee flavdrops When the cake is done, let it cool. Then, like I discussed above, slice it vertically in half (to create two rectangular cake-shaped pieces) and then horizontally in half (to fill it with frosting).
The frosting was really simple. All it was was 1/2 cup of chocolate casein + 3/4 cup of coconut milk + 1 tbsp of brazil nut protein powder (which you can substitute with just whey) + 1 tbsp of hemp protein powder. I just mixed all the above ingredients with a spoon in a bowl and voila: protein frosting.
To make the frosting look 'funny' on top (as you can see from the pics), I used a sandwich bag with a pipping nozzle sticking out of the end. I stuck the frosting in there and then I just squeezed it on top. To be frank, I think it needed more creaminess - maybe some greek yogurt or actual cream? But it tasted delicious so I was happy. I also sprinkled some cocoa on top but that's, of course, optional.
Macros per one slice of cake: 305kcals 48.2g protein 10g carbs 6.3g fat 1.2g fiber! NOTE: Remember that, inside Protein Pow newsletter, there are some awesome discount codes for some of the ingredients mention above! If you haven't already, sign up on the upper right hand corner of the blog!
the most crucial thing to understand is that the arrow drawn above is exactly 180 degrees off course
On the Opie & Anthony
radio show, comic Amy Schumer told a sexy story.
She was 18,
and was out with friends in NYC wearing "a miniskirt
and a tube top-- my uniform back then." At the end of the night they
pile into a cab. Amy sits in the front.
The cab driver
was "gross, like the cab driver on MTV." "This
was back when I used to do dangerous things, sexually," and
littered throughout the story were exasperated sighs, like, "I
can't believe I did those things." I sympathize, believe
me I do.
So what does a drunk 18 year old coed do in the front
seat of a cab that's worth sharing on the radio? She extends her leg over towards the
At this point I should tell you that the title of
this Opie & Anthony segment is "Amy Schumer Gets Fingered In
A Cab" so of course I already know what's going to happen, which
is why I'm parked behind a church. But this surprises me
GUY: So you let the cab driver touch your vagina? AMY: No--
I took his hand and made him touch my vagina.
right, she didn't let this all happen, she made it all happen, on
purpose. She wanted to get fingered by this filthy, ugly,
dangerous cab driver.
So while her drunk friends are passed
out in the back, she's riding his "disgusting finger"
towards an orgasm and trying not to moan too loudly. 10 or so
blocks later she climaxes, immediately feels horrified by herself,
gets out of the cab, pays, and runs into her apartment.
At the end of this story, everyone, including Amy, started to play the popular game Why Would She Do That?-- was she molested as a
child, was it self-punishment? But according to the Textbook Of Psychoanalysis, every event in your life is reprocessed as a story, and
every story has five Acts. Acts II- IV are the rising action, climax, and falling action; Act V is the denouement: what was the result of all this? Taking this literally, Amy's orgasm is Act III. Getting out of the cab and feeling disgusted is Act IV. What's missing from her story is Act V. So if you're
brave enough we're going to play a different game, a game with real winners and real losers, and that game is
Guess What Happens Next.
There's a criticism
among male comics about female comics, that they only have to look
good in a skirt and talk about blowjobs and they can get away with
not being funny, and I want to be clear that when comics make this
criticism they are talking about Amy Poehler, not Amy Schumer.
Amy Schumer is very funny and very quick. The funniest thing
about Amy Poehler is nothing.
But why is there even a market
for sexy but unfunny female comics? The answer is that it's hot to hear a sexy girl talk openly
about sex, and the only safe way a woman can talk openly about
sex is..... as a joke, as parody.
If you heard this as
a feminist criticism you have missed 50% of the fun: men can't safely
hear about sex from a woman except as a joke, or else they are
labeled as perverts by women, who are still unsure of their
(sexual) place in this free for all we call Nowadays. "I
want to tell you about last night but I don't want you to judge me or
appear interested." Huh? Nowadays can be exhausting,
but they were also inevitable.
everything is a commodity, everything has a price. So when
post-gold standard capitalism gets access to everything except the
secret desires of women, it will necessarily create a mechanism to
get them, too, i.e. some media to take the bullet as pervert so women
can be free to talk in exchange for men quietly listening in. It
took a decade but the system worked: Howard Stern was the inevitable
synthesis of feminism and Reaganomics, which is a sentence you will
never read anywhere else.
Which is why as Amy is
describing putting the cabbie's hand on her vagina, this
DAN: So, were you... prepared to receive him?
AMY: What do you mean?
DAN: I mean.... were all systems a go?
AMY: You mean was I wet? How wet do you have to be to slide a finger in?
is, this is satellite radio, Dan can be as vulgar and explicit as he
wants, no FCC. And he knows this, he works there. You
could say it's a hold over from the broadcast radio days, except Dan
was never in broadcast radio, which means one of two things happened,
both of which are the same: 1. He was reflexively imitating the style and
language he learned was allowable for sexy talk with female
strangers, e.g. FM radio Howard Stern; 2. his own mind had used a
distancing language-- sound like someone else-- so as not to
appear to be the pervy guy wanting to know if her box was wet
enough to penetrate. Feminists, note carefully that the female
is allowed to be graphic, but the males in the room still feel they
have to censor themselves around her. Where do you think that
censorship is coming from? Amy?
There is a group of you
who will read this and feel enraged by a double standard, in
front of men women get to be sexy, talk about sex, flaunt it, but men
can't introduce the topic, can't ask questions, can't pursue-- can't
even look-- because then they're labeled as predators. If
you're in this group you don't get it. The censorship doesn't
come from women, it comes from you. If you feel like you can't
ask her about her sex because you'll sound like a repressed stalker,
you are, in fact, a repressed stalker. You're not going to kill
her, ok, fair enough, but you aren't going to leave her alone, ever.
If Trina rolls bleary eyed into the cubicle and says, "wow, I
got totally plowed by this guy last night" not only are you not
going to get any coding done that day, but you will make it
impossible for her to ever get any coding done or keep her cell
number because of your subtle pushes for more stories and passive
aggressive inquiries about her relationship status and near constant
innuendo. "Cubicles. Blech. You know what job I'd be
good at? Riding a backhoe."
So, radio fans, if you hear
a woman tell you she got fingered in a cab, you're being offered a
chance to see inside your soul: what do you think next?
think, "I sooooooo want to come on her tits," you're
normal. Also a pig, but a normal, 21st century pig. Sigh. We've
been trained to be aroused by imitation. "Well, men are
visual creatures." Let me guess, you heard that on TV, big
surprise. Your deepest desires come out of a box, against your nature. Tell me, which
is more arousing: watching a porno with the sound off, or listening
to a porno without the video? Yeah. I love staying in
Men aren't visual, they
are trained. Back when men were the labor force TV told them to be
visual so they could by some crap, but when women started taking over the labor pool they told women to be visual, too,
or did genetics suddenly decide male chest hair was out starting
exactly 1989, the year the Dumbest Generation Of Narcissists In The History Of The World graduated college?
People don't think visually, the system has trained them to think
visually. Most of the world uses computers for words, right?
Yet it seems never to occur to anyone to do what is the most obvious
thing in the ever:
Duh. But now that I've
told you you still won't do it, the infrastructure is against you. So
even though the world is coded in 8.5:11 it is experienced in 4:9,
and the system facilitates the sheeping, not the shepherding. You
want to change that? Good luck, you're not cool enough to have a
following and the moment it occurred to Steve Jobs his pancreas was
Back to Amy: so
normal= "come on her tits"; abnormal, unhealthy but sadly the
norm Nowadays would be to turn Naughty Amy's Barely Legal Ride
Along into something masochistic and think: why not me?
Why does this slut allow herself to get fingered by some ugly cab
driver yet I can't even ask about it? Which is
the answer to your own question. You are operating from a
position of self-loathing which you then project as a judgment onto
everyone else, and she can sense it. And you can sense it,
which is why you self-censor. See? You're not all bad.
That women can't talk as
openly about sex is really a subset of a larger difference, which is
that while both are allowed to do anything they want, only a man can
identify with it. Women must distance themselves from it, more or
less depending on situation. When a man has sex it is a reflection
of who he is; for women it has to be something that happened.
Say you're lucky enough
to have the most wonderful of all experiences, the menage a trois. Right on! "Umm, dude, I've had threesomes and they're not that great.
They're actually pretty awkward." Um, dude, you're not doing them right,
they have to be sisters. So afterwards the guy will tell...
everybody. And for the rest of his life. Any future girlfriend will
hear about it within the first month of dating: Things That Make Me
Cool. The woman may tell her friends, but she's not going to tell
guy friends, and certainly not bring it up to potential boyfriends,
and it sure as hell never reflects on her character. "It happened, but it's not who
The thing is, in any
MFF, there are three people who could be telling you the story, yet
the narrator is always a penis. He had a threesome, the
supporting cast say they "were in a threesome once." Assuming
you live in a town where X number of threesomes happen every year and
there's no repeats, then there are twice as many women with a history of menages than men. Yet despite being the majority, it's the man's story
to own and the woman's to disavow.
You could play it the
other way and say, well, some women do repeat, but then in that case
those individual women have had more threesome than guys, more
experience with them, but they're still not allowed to own it, and if
they do it's still at a distance: "I don't know, it just kind of
happened." The only time you'll hear a guy says those words is if
you're his girlfriend and he just cheated or you're the police and
he's holding a head, and that's not a joke but a description of the
There are, of course, an
unusual few women who "own" it, talk freely about their sex
without shame, but unless they are comics they run the risk of inviting stalkers
and anyways, no matter how much they are otherwise liked or
respected, people will still whisper quietly to each other: "what
happened to her in her life that made her do these things?" Sexy women, you have a choice: you're
either a slut, or broken.
Someone in the studio suggested that Amy's
behavior was the result of childhood molestation. Jim Norton, a
comic, explained it as "self-punishment." Jim's
perspective is unique because he is a recovering alcoholic and a
current sex-addict, frequently detailing his relations with hookers,
transsexuals, etc. He would know, right?
The problem with this
kind of backwards analysis is that it tries to universalize a
behavior into its cause. But the fact is that people get fingered by ugly men in
cabs for all kinds of reasons, including they just like it. Last
Tango In Paris was about a beautiful young woman who was inexplicably drawn to a billy goat. It happens. No, you're thinking of
Streetcar Brando. This is 1972 Godfather Brando.
"Aww, older men
can be sexy." I guess, if you're even older than them.
Modern and pop
psychology spend a lot of time taking a behavior and tracing it back
to a single source-- genetics, trauma, whatever-- but there's no
money there, the money is in the meaning, what they do with it. So
Norton's an addict. Do you want to know how he got that way or what he does with it?
Before, the experience
of addiction was entirely subjective, is it messing up your life?
Now, it's been objectified, the subject's relationship with the drug
is is no longer relevant, it is the fact of the drug that is
relevant. The obvious example of this sleight of hand is that
there's alcohol use and alcohol abuse, but there's no such category
as cocaine use, even though the vast majority of its ingestion has
nothing to do with addiction. The reinforcement is from the outside
to comply with this idiocy: say you party down one weekend, then a
random drug test at work, oops! So two things can happen, Guess What Happens Next: you could tell the truth that the coke was on her ass and how could you not? doesn't make you a bad person; or
pretend/admit you're an addict and agree to go to rehab. So it's unanimous? You keep
your job at McDonalds and the system gets another data point
confirming it is right. I hope the parallel between this and
anything written by Solzhenitsyn is immediately obvious, if not, read
anything by Solzhenitsyn. The Matrix doesn't need you, but it will
offer you a free pass if you help get the other batteries in line.
Note that when
scienticians talk about, say, the increase in alcoholism, they never go back before
WWII, otherwise they'd have to label most ancient Greeks, all Vikings
and everyone in colonial America as alcoholics. "Well," they'll explain, "it wasn't until then we started rigorously treating people as data points." While I'll accept that an amount of alcohol does the same
damage to your innards regardless of what kingdom you're born in,
there's something sneaky about the current kingdom getting to be the
sole judge of what is addiction and what isn't, but we rarely complain unless the addiction is the internet and the kingdom is China; and the reason we don't complain is that the system has cleverly made it very easy for us to abuse it selfishly when we want to, which was the plan all along. But it doesn't make it right. Sorry, wildman, you can't judge a
person based on two generations of observation of a single
culture that happens to be driven by TV.
thing about addictions-- include gambling and sex and internet and
"dangerous behaviors" and whatever else you want-- is that
they all share something in common. Allegedly this thing is
dopaminergic pathways to the striatum and etc, but saying that gets
you nothing. It's astounding that the layperson chooses
to think in these terms which though they are true are utterly
meaningless, utterly unactionable, until you remember, oh, of course,
in narcissism believing something is preferable to doing something
because the former is about you and the latter is about everyone
Slightly off topic but here's
an important example: say you yell every day at an/your eight year
old girl for sloppy homework, admittedly a terrible thing to do but
not uncommon, and eventually she thinks, "I'm terrible at
everything" and gives up, so the standard interpretation of this
is that she has lost self-confidence, she's been demoralized, and
case by case you may be right, but there's another possibility which
you should consider: she chooses to focus on "I'm terrible at
everything" so that
she can give up. "If I agree to hate myself I only need a
60? I'll be done in 10 minutes. "
It is precisely
at this instant that a parent fails or succeeds, i.e. fails: do they
teach the kid to prefer (find reinforcement in) the drudgery of
boring, difficult work with little daily evidence of improvement, or
do they teach the kid to prefer (find reinforcement in) about 20
minutes of sobbing hysterically and then off to Facebook and a
sandwich? Each human being is only able to learn
to prefer one of those at a time. Which one does the parent
If you read this as laziness you have utterly
missed the point. It's not laziness, because you're still working
hard, but you are working purposelessly on purpose. The goal of your
work is to be done the work, not to be better at work.
great many people this leads to an unconscious, default hierarchy in
the mind, I'm not an epidemiologist but you got it in you sometime
between the ages of 5 and 10:
is better than
<feeling terrible about yourself>
is better than
work of change>
You should memorize this, it is running your life. "I'm constantly thinking about ways to improve myself." No, you're gunning the engine while you're up on blocks. Obsessing and ruminating is a skill at
which we are all tremendously accomplished, and admittedly that feels
like mental work because it's exhausting and unrewarding, but you can
no more ruminate your way through a life crisis than a differential
equation. So the parents unknowingly teach you to opt for <b>,
and after a few years of childhood insecurity, you'll choose the Blue
Pill begin the dreaming: someday and someplace you'll show someone how great you
somehow are. And after a few months with that someone they will eventually turn to you,
look deep into your eyes, and say, "look, I don't have a swimming
pool, but if I did I'd drown myself in it. Holy Christ are you
"Well, my parents were really strict, they
made me--" Keep telling yourself that. Chances are
if your parents are between 50 and 90 they were simply terrible.
Great expectations; epic fail. Your parents were dutifully
strict about their arbitrary and expedient rules, not about making
you a better person. "Clean your plate! Go to college!" Words fail me. They weren't tough, they were rigidly
self-aggrandizing. "They made me practice piano an hour
every day!" as if the fact of practice was the whole point; what
they did not teach you is to try and sound better
every practice. They meant well, they loved
you, but the generation that invented
grade inflation is not also going to know about self-monitoring and paedeia, which is roughly translated, "making
yourself better at piano."
"You don't know how hard
it is to raise kids," says someone whose main cultural influence in life was the Beatles. The fact that you will
inevitably fail in creating Superman is not a reason not to try.
Oh: I bet I know what you chose when you were 8.
The mistake is in
thinking that misery and self-loathing are the "bad" things you
are trying to get away from with Ambien and Abilify or drinking or
therapy or whatever, but you have this completely backwards.
Self-loathing is the defense against change, self-loathing is
preferable to <mental work.> You choose
misery so that nothing changes, and the Ambien and the drinking and
the therapy placate the misery so that you can go on not changing.
That's why when you look in the mirror and don't like what you see,
you don't immediately crank out 30 pushups, you open a bag of chips.
You don't even try, you only plan to try. The appearance of mental work, aka masturbation. The goal of your ego is not to change, but what you don't
realize is that time is moving on regardless. Ian Anderson
wrote a poem about this, you should study it carefully.
days after Amy told her story I heard Howard Stern railing about an
uncle who liked to play golf. "It infuriated me that he never took
a lesson, never tried to get better. He was happy just playing, he
didn't care if he got any better. It made no sense to me. How can
you enjoy something and not want to get better at it?" Answer: some people
are happy with par. He isn't, which is why he succeeded. The
retort is, "well, I don't want to have to improve on everything,
some things I just want to mindlessly enjoy." I sympathize, but I
also own a clock, and there are only 24hrs in a day. Look on how
many of those hours go to true self-improvement vs. mindless
enjoyment, and despair.
That hierarchy you learned-- and yes,
it was learned in childhood-- applies to everything, including
addictions. Addiction may be biological, but no one ever claims
that getting clean is biological. "When I hit 45, my
testosterone levels fell which also lowered the dopaminergic activity
in the reinforcement pathways of the brain, so I was able to get off
dope." Wait, is that true? HA! No. It's
a decision, made at that time in those circumstances. I know
it's a hard decision, but like every other decision in life it is
ultimately a binary one. Biology is pulling you towards 0,
learning pulls you towards 1.
"All this happens at age
8?!" Think of how many years you've since practiced that
hierarchy. "So after childhood, you're screwed? You
can't change?" Oh, no, people change all the time, once
they figure out how they're sabotaging themselves. Now it's
So the thing that
addictions-- drugs, internet, sex, etc-- all have in common is that
they displace and replace something else. If you think of yourself
as containing an amount of stuff, or energy, or emotion, addiction
isn't in addition to that, the total amount of emotion and energy
stays constant. The nature of the emotions change, but the overall
quantity of anger+sadness+happiness+ etc is the same. The addiction replaced something, and you
can't get rid of an addiction unless something replaces it.
addiction replaces one of two things: human connection or change.
Jim Norton frequently complains that his sex addiction prevents him
from pursuing a show or writing scripts, but the verb is wrong: the
sex addiction allows him not to work on scripts. Doesn't he want a
pilot? Sure. But this way he doesn't have to do the mental work of
change and eventually he can die. "Is he afraid of success?" No, why would he be? The more invested you are in your "self"-- not happy with, but invested in-- the more you will resist the potential of change.
In the other category is
human connection. What I don't mean is that a person lacking human
connections turns to addiction, ha, you don't get off that easily:
what I mean is that the addiction satisfies the same needs as human
connection, but better. It bypasses the <mental work> of
maintaining human connections. Say a married guy becomes an
alcoholic, and this pushes his wife away, which of course makes him drink more.
The problem now is that if he stops drinking, his wife doesn't
automatically come back, right? She's pulled away as much as he's
pushed. I'm sure she wants him to get clean and etc, but the energy
math doesn't balance: he goes sober, the relationship may improve,
but there's still a gap, still some emotional connection lost. Ergo:
he cannot give up drinking.
More optimistically, the
only way he is going to stop is: a) they split up; b) they double
down on each other and talk MORE to each other, more than they do
now, maybe that means that he skips rehab in order to go to couples
therapy. "But the problem isn't the marriage." It is now.
This idea of having a
finite "amount" of emotion seems preposterous, and weirdly it's
usually most preposterous to the people who don't believe in soul or
God or whatever yet also don't want to believe we are finite human
beings with finite capacities.
Anyway, here's a very real example
of it. Two wives are talking, "after ten years of marriage, we don't cuddle
anymore. He used to always hug and kiss me, and now...." And the
standard interpretation is kids + work + age = lost a connection,
took it for granted, relationship is worse than it was. And then she
sees her newlywed friends or anyone on ABC and they're constantly
touching each other. Sigh. So maybe you misread one
of my posts or studied Deepak Chopra for a decade and think, "ok,
I'll just DO it, I'll just force myself to touch/kiss/cuddle and then
behavior will lead emotion and we'll connect again." You try it
and---- it feels fake.
Eventually the marriage
ends, and you tell your friends: "when he stops touching you, it's
the first sign."
That may be the
interpretation, and if you're merely dating it probably is the
interpretation, but there's another to consider: all that
touching/cuddlying is now more appropriately given to the
kids, it is more correct for them, and so doing it to an adult seems
fake because it IS fake. You can't touch a 5 year old the same way
you touch a 40 year old, not unless you're a [TBD priest/football joke here]. The point isn't that your relationship is worse, the point is
that it is different because it has to be different because otherwise
you would explode. What remains is for you to figure out some new,
adult way to "touch", whether that's backrubs or a bondage mask I
have no idea, but your love has to grow up or else you will think
you've fallen out of love. "How can you incorrectly think you've fallen out of love?" How many times have you incorrectly thought you were in love?
I'm not judging Amy, at all, but her story is so representative of what countless women go through, the "I can't believe I did that" repeated 1000 times, so I hope she won't mind my using her story to make a point about how we frame our experiences for the very specific purpose of NOT changing.
It's not possible to overstate the importance of interpreting everything as a story-- by which I mean, you don't know the full story unless you know all of the acts. If one is missing, it is on purpose.
To be clear, as Amy was getting fingered
in the cab, it wasn't happening as a story; but she's telling it to us as a
story, with a beginning and an end. But the beginning and ending she
chose are arbitrary, she chose them for a reason. She said the
beginning was when she got in the cab and the end was when she got out
of the cab, which sounds expedient, but you should be very, very suspicious of the way you frame a story because the goal is almost never to help you understand it but to make you be able to live with it. The goal is identity
preservation. Make sure you stay the main character in your own
So even though I have no idea why she wanted to get fingered by a cab driver, I have heard this type of story before, I know the structure, and I know the payoff is in Act V.
There are people who like doing dangerous sexual stuff, and people who don't, and those who don't are divided
into those who never tell anyone and those who do tell someone. I
already knew Amy was in the latter category because she was telling the story on the radio, and people usually tell stories about things they are ashamed of for one reason: absolution.
The thing is, we are ten years later, and according to Amy herself not much has changed-- i.e. she still finds herself doing things she wish she didn't. Again, I am not judging her, I am only explaining a very common phenomenon. So in order for more stories like that one to occur in her life, there had to be an Act V in that story that allowed future repetition; and that Act V would be hidden-- she would always tell and remember the story without that part.
Which is why Guess What Happens Next is a rigged game, I knew exactly what was going to happen next at the beginning of the story: she'd run and tell the story to the one person in her life who had, simultaneously,
full power of absolution and zero power of punishment, and if
she was 28 that would be a therapist but at 18 it could only be one
person: her mother.
Psychological detectives take note: Amy would not have mentioned that she told her mom, she thought the story was finished, except that someone accidentally asked what she did next explicitly. Yet it is the key to the whole story.
Telling mom may seem like madness but remember, the goal is always NOT to change. Imagine what would happen if she didn't tell mom: she'd either repeat these behaviors in a death spiral until she discovered meth and flamed out; or would be so guilty she never did it again. Mom recites the necessary spell to protect against future change and allow for repetition:
What were you thinking? You're not like that! You're not that kind of person! You're so much better than that!
Thanks, mom, I feel a lot better.
Every time you crowdsource the superego a piece of you is split off as bad keeping the rest of you intact as good. "I'm not a bad person, I just did a bad thing."
engage in "dangerous behaviors" (NB: for gays and women this ALWAYS refers to sex, for hetero men NEVER) and then tell people about them are not
punishing themselves, at all. "But it makes me feel so bad about myself." That's the hierarchy, that's the point. Two hours of sobbing hysterically and then off to Facebook and a sandwich. Thanks, mom.
People will do whatever has worked for them since childhood, which in this case is split off unpalatable pieces of themselves and disown them, protecting the rest. "I did that, but it's not who I am." When "it" is really bad you move to Step 2: find someone who can substitute for your atrophied superego to confirm "you're not like that", and you're good for a decade of emotional stagnation
and the following crazy sentence: "I've changed a lot in ten years." Ha, yeah-- wait, you're serious? Dude, no one who is not you agrees. No one. Not even your therapist. "That's not fair, my job isn't to judge." You're hired.
The downside of this, apart from
candida, is that you train yourself to think of all events and
behaviors as happening to separate parts of yourself-- you don't fully own them-- which means that when
something good does happen you can't own that, either. Everything will come with self-doubt. "That was good, but I was lucky/right place/other guy died/connections, otherwise it wouldn't have worked."
I know what you're thinking, you're thinking, "ok, all this is fine.... but why did she do it? Why did she get fingered in a cab if she didn't want to?"
You're thinking, "I don't want to hear about how everything is interpretable through the artificial paradigm of narrative structure--" as if it was me and not your god who made it this way, as if I was better able to invent a convenient fiction that happened to apply to you rather than describe a process that's been used for millennia. You think you're the first? You think no one but you has lived your life? Do you think you are so unique? Do you think I just took a guess? This isn't the first time this game has been played, there've been over 200 generations of Guess What Happens Next and it is the exact same answer every single time. All of this has happened before and it will happen again.
But you want "why", you're drawn to "why" like you're drawn to a pretty girl in the rain. Let me guess: she has black hair, big eyes, and is dressed like an ingenue. "Why?" is the most seductive of questions because it is innocent, childlike, infinite in possibilities, and utterly devoted to you.
"Why am I this way? Why do I do what I do?" But what will you do with that information? What good is it? If you were an android, would it change you to know why you were programmed the way you were? "Why" is masturbation, "why" is the enemy, the only question that matters is, now what?
But you want "why". Ok, here we go.
The clue is that she did this at the end of the night and not the beginning of the night. "Is it because she was drunk?" I'm drunk now, and I'm in an air taxi, and no one is fingering me. No.
You will observe that most of your "I can't believe I did that" behaviors are at the end of the night, the end of the day, the end of the party, the end of the story, which means the narrative has less in common with a porno than with the last chip in the bag or the last swig out of the bottle-- there are a billion possible reasons why you started the bottle or plowed through the bags, but that very last one has only one unique motivation, and it is in understanding that last one that you will or will not change your future.
When you're in a casino and you blow $50 on the slot machine, pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, each and every time you're hoping that this will be the one that hits, and once in a while you get a little something-- it is the randomness, the suddenness, the unpredictability of that even tiny reward which keeps you pulling through your bankroll. "Variable ration schedule." Sound right? Well, none of those $50 have anything to do with the cab ride.
But then you're done, tapped out, and you turn to go but.... wait a minute............................ you have one token left. Stop now, look at that one, look carefully at it, it is your contract with the Devil, it is the selling of your soul. What is it's value? Look at it, it doesn't matter what you do, it matters what you think-- which means what you are about to do has already been decided.
You could pocket that last one. Go home with something other than nothing. You could even play that last one with superstitious hope, praying and bargaining that if you hit you'll X/Y/Z. But that's not what you think, is it? Instead you think, "whatever" and you put it in
the machine-- NOT because you think this time it will pay off-- be honest with yourself, you know that that initial optimism of game play is gone-- you do it
precisely because you know it will fail-- you are throwing it away, on
purpose, so you can walk away from the machine "clean", finished, so you can play-act at catharsis. "This is the last one!" you cry, like you're yelling out "it is accomplished!" The final suffering, look for brand new me in a few days. And unlike Amy's cab ride, you are turning this experience into a story in real time, you are writing the ending as you are doing it for an audience, as if it were a reality show or you were offering a voice over, you are constructing that experience, saying your lines, as the last Act of a story being told to an imaginary audience, a god, your future self, the balance of energy in the universe-- The Big Other.
And you think you're done but what you don't realize is you're only done Act III.
That's the last chip in the bag-- "whatever, might as well." That's the last swig, "I'm never drinking again." That's selling your stocks into a downturn, that's
your sexual history, throwing it away one more time not because this
time the guy is going to be great but because it's not going to be great, it's a sacrifice to the volcano.
You throw it away, on purpose, because it's not worth holding on to it, you've already disavowed it as useless, evil, pointless, hopeless-- it is the last remnant of a part of you you want gone. You play that last coin, drink that last drink, eat that last chip and throw your vagina at a billy goat-- all of those are the splitting off of a piece of yourself that you then can leave behind. The act is the "physical expression of an intrapsychic process"-- you are acting out what you wish were true, like a rape victim scrubbing herself clean. "That's not me--- anymore." If only it were that easy. I sympathize, you have no idea.
What's most sad about it is that you might have been right-- it might have worked-- except that instead of making that be the end of the story you drag it out for one more Act, and ensure that the pattern repeats, ad nauseam. You don't want the story to end. It's not a great story, but it's the one you know, the one you understand, and you'd rather have 500 pages of repetition compulsion than take a chance on Once Upon A Time. Writing is hard, I know. I know.
"How can any of this even be real?" you ask, hoping that since I drink and since I don't sleep therefore I must be insane. Never mind that: focus on the words. Since you reinterpret your life as a story, then your entire book has already been written, give me Acts I-III and the beginning of IV I can tell you the ending. Ok, maybe in your story you it's a job and not a whale, or you choose a car not a train, or maybe it's "Reader, I married him" or "there's something we need to do as soon as possible"-- minor details, the ending always flows logically from the beginning-- and if you're young enough you'll even think you'd be satisfied with a tragedy as long as it's dramatic enough. Don't sweat it, it's the age. But if I'm permitted I'll offer you one final prediction, you'll either take this as a warning or remember that you don't believe in all this crap: if you are looking for the perfect climax but have no knowledge of the resolution, if you do not write your story towards an ending, then your life will default to the one ending that will terrify you more than any other possible: "He could not refrain from going on with them, but it seems to us that we may stop here." It is inevitable.
Did you know that, at this time of the year, the sun rises at 3:30am-ish here in Stockholm? I knew this but last night I forgot to shut the heavy curtains before bed. Zeus. I slept like a giraffe.... Live and learn, ey? Anyways, to make matters even sunnier, I walked into the kitchen this afternoon to break the fast with some protein pancakes, opened a bunch of cupboards and was hit by the fact that no flour or oats of any kind were in sight. Pancakes without coconut, buckwheat, or chestnut flour? Without quinoa flakes or oats? Ah, this is how great inventions are born: out of necessity - and a pinch of creativity ;-)
1/2 cup of whey (I used a sample pack of PhD vanilla whey)
3 egg whites
The result was unbelievable! You get the crunch from the linseeds, sunflower and pumpkin seeds along with bursts of blueberry and an undercurrent of vanilla, cinnamon, and almond. Booom! A success through and through. Who would have though, muesli as a base for protein pancakes? But there you have it :-D Now, the only reservation I have about this recipe is that it contains sugar, from the muesli. This is of course avoidable as you can use a sugarless muesli instead but, in the context of these guys right here, I didn't find the inclusion of a bit of sugar overly problematic. That being said, I AM going to go to the supermarket right now in an attempt to hunt down some exotic swedish flours to pancake up in the coming days. After I down this quadruple espresso, that is ;-)
Macros per one pancake out of the three that the above mixture yields equate to... point number 5 here. (PS - I shall be back in my British macro counting kitchen in a couple of weeks.)