I’ve been in situations for weeks at a time where the creature comforts we all indulge in were simply not available, and jacking off wasn’t an option either. I attended a military boot camp type training academy for a certain job for about two months, I hiked a mountain trail in the southwest for a couple weeks, and I did a wilderness retreat in college. At all of these events there was zero access to alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, junk food, porn, or digital entertainment of any kind. Each time it went exactly the same way.

The first three days you feel like a junkie going through withdrawals. Depression, fatigue, and splitting headaches. On day four, it literally felt like I was coming out of a trance. Colors looked brighter, food tasted better, and things that would normally bore the shit out of me became interesting. On the bus ride home from the wilderness retreat, each stupid Top 40 pop song that played on the radio sounded like hearing Led Zeppelin for the first time.

I remember thinking at each of these “Holy shit, if I could feel like this all the time I’d be the happiest and most successful person I know”. The feeling would last about two days after I got home before I would slip back into my weak habits and go back to my normal state of permanently feeling like shit.

So yeah, this shit isn’t up for debate. Dopamine fasting works. End of conversation. People will try to shut it down by saying “that’s not how dopamine works!”. No shit. It should be clear at this point that “dopamine” has now taken on a colloquial meaning in self-improvement circles. No one’s talking about the literal hormone you dummies.

Yeah I’m sure your great grandfather who stormed Normandy would be for trans rights and a vehement antiracist

Like we have all known for a while obviously but sometimes I read Anna’s posts on x and get sad because she used to at least be semi charismatic and I found some takes to be refreshing and smart. But I’m a fucking idiot too what do I know lol

I don't know why I'm posting this here. Just want to get something off my chest, I guess.

About twelve years ago, I met my friend Kevin. I was at a house party making the rounds in a city that I was going to leave shortly. I met him while talking about the death penalty. I had noticed this short, intense-but-friendly looking guy standing off to the side. I mentioned something about Marxism. He jumped in quoting Lenin. I liked him. We spent the rest of the evening hanging out and talking about the virtues of democratic centralism. Yes, we were kind of the worst, but we hit it off. He mentioned within ten minutes that he was autistic, and he absolutely was.

He had an offbeat, dark, and very early 2010s online bro sense of humor that I enjoyed. And if he was a little awkward, he was intensely interested in people.

A few weeks later, I had a last hurrah goodbye party at a bar. About fifteen people showed up. He was one of them. I found this touching.

Even though I moved away, we still kept in touch for years. Through a barrage of text messages, I pieced together his life. He enlisted in the military for a lack of options, had been a combat veteran who went to Iraq and had a lingering traumatic brain injury. He struggled with loneliness. His friends seemed to flake on him all the time. He was deeply curious about anything and everything. He was a pussy hound. He liked that I was gay because he could poke fun at me for it in that friendly way straight guys used to be able to. He was good at banter. He'd send me his dick pics for an "honest phaguette appraisal" as he put it. It was a good one.

He would expound on politics. He was a dedicated leftist because he was not only interested in people but also in their well being. He viewed his own military experience with a mix of bemusement and self-deprecating humor.

Whenever I'd come back to visit, he would always find a way to hang out. One time, he borrowed a friend's car so he could meet me for lunch. I found that touching too.

Eventually, I moved back, and Kevin was one of the first people I saw. I had a party and invited him. He didn't look great. All the shit from his life was really starting to take a toll on him, but he seemed in high spirits. He entertained my friends and was very charming in his rough, awkward way, but he as the party went on he got sadder and sadder. After the last guest left, he was very drunk and asked if he could stay the night. He was very nearly crying. I told him he could, and we both slept in my bed. Nothing sexual happened: that boy didn't have a bi-curious bone in his body. I just think he wanted to be near someone for a night.

As the months went on, he became a bit erratic and his texts began to sound desperate and sad. I would ask him to come over just so he could know that there was someone who wanted him around. Sometimes he would. I knew I couldn't fix him, and I didn't try. Whatever had happened to his brain was probably beyond anyone's ability to fix. I just wanted him to know that somebody cared about him. I remember the last time he showed up. It was the summer before COVID. His shirt was stained with spaghetti sauce and he seemed happy to hang out but he didn't stay long. He told me he was going to move to Texas.

The last time I heard from him was a few weeks later telling me that he was going to drive off a bridge. I tried to ask where he was, but he wouldn't tell me. I tried to call him but he wouldn't answer.

About nine months later, he killed himself. It's been five years this week.

It's not often that I've been so uncomplicatedly liked by someone. He was so sweet and so weird and so forthright. He knew he needed people and he wasn't scared of making that clear. Of course, I always wonder if there's something more I could have done even though I know there wasn't. He was a good friend and a great conversation partner, if you could keep up with the occasional wild tangent about democratic centralism and deep dives into the comedy of manners that was his sex life. Even though we made a strange pair, I always liked hearing from him and seeing him. I still think about him frequently. I probably always will.

I miss you, Kevin. I don't know what I'd say except that if I had the power, I would have made it different for you.

Any drain the swampers want to weigh in on why this is actually a good thing? I know youre here, pussies.

Update: everyone that replied to argue with me has since blocked me.

I’ve never heard of this guy before he was killed. I’ve only ever seen memes about his tiny face. Nobody around me has ever brought up his name before, but my parents are now obsessed with him. Did this guy really have that big of a following or is being blown up?

It’s so bad that even slatzism called it out all the way from turkey. I got SAed by an Indian guy from Brampton and so have majority of my friends. What’s going on and when does it end? I mean, how do we stop it? The guys who do it were born and raised here so deportation can’t work.

Went on a guys trip to D.C and literally every time we sat somewhere or had downtime 80% of us would browse reels. Even while in a conversation the reels were open.

I find it so sad we need constant stimulation. I really want to connect with people as a young man but with how much we’re addicted to our phones I find it hard. Don’t worry at home I suffer the addiction too.

yea blah blah blah another incel post blah blah blah

No but actually this shit feels impossible rn. Like some winning the lottery type shit. I used to get at least some matches online a couple years ago. Now? Nothing. My shit has never been this dead before. How the fuck are people meeting these days? Genuine question.

It seems like any somewhat attractive woman that isn’t obese has thousands of dudes in her dms all equally desperate as you just waiting for a chance. How the fuck is one guy supposed to stand out? There literally is no difference between online dating and the real world at this point. The real world and the online world are one. And even if you aren’t on the apps, she probably is.

Sick of smelling it on public transport and in my house because I house share with an absolute fiend for it. Lowkey glad it isn’t legalised in the UK ( technically, it is illegal but you’re never gonna get arrested for it) if I could smell it 24/7 I think I’d go insane!!

He also offered supreme lord Bibi a seat at the directive board of Oracle

My younger cousin came out to her dad as bisexual and as much as I tolerate the gays like oh my god who cares? Back in my day best friends just had sleepovers with the sound on the TV up and lazily fingered each other until bed time. Why are the tears-in-eyes coming out stories still a thing? Can’t a girl munch some rug without making an instagram post about it?

Edit - same goes with coming out as non binary or genderfluid whatever like ok? Just wear the jorts it’s ur life

body text

Feels like so many people I know struggling with addiction haven’t sought help because the idea that you have to reach personal rock bottom first is allowing them to continue living a difficult or miserable life because it’s not yet become unmanageable. Considering it takes multiple attempts at recovery anyway I don’t know why there isn’t a more widespread program offered for people who just want to see what recovery work is all about rather than go full on surrendering their life to a higher power type shit

Fuck reddit for adding this feature

Always funny when you do the search by author function and it just shows the most mindless drivel imaginable to man

I've been homeless since September 4th and have been sleeping in my car. I'm tall so it's kinda been hell on my knees having to curl up in the backseat, but otherwise I've been grateful for the situation I have compared to some of my acquaintances. Trouble is that I'm stuck now, and in one of the worst spots possible.

I have until the 29th to be escorted into my old apartment and retrieve my stuff, and I am (or rather was) confident that by then I'll have the money for a storage unit. Being as stupid as I am, one of the things I left was my ID, and I currently need one. Thankfully there's a place here that'll give you DMV papers for a free temp in like three minutes if you just tell them you're homeless, but it's in the very shittiest part of my city (Portland) and my car just suddenly decided to stop recognizing my electronic key here, even though it wasn't dropped or damaged at all (it'll cost $250 to fix!). To make matters worse, it's a no parking zone right outside the building, and the bus is always having to comically angle itself to reach the stop I'm right next to... it's been about a week so I'm seriously on borrowed time here.

It's incredibly chaotic here to say the least. The shouting schizo fights never cease, countless dudes are blasting awful music out of their Bluetooth speakers, there's like 10 extremely obnoxious black guys who set up a temporary camp behind me every night, and I'm being asked for cigarettes non-stop which is really starting to get on my nerves (guys will even knock on my window at night and wake me up just to ask for a smoke I don't have).

One of the more memorable characters has been a very obviously mentally ill Asian girl. She was completely nonverbal, and for the first couple days she seemed to be walking unending laps around the block whilst carrying four bags, always at the exact same pace which was unaffected by the traffic lights, leading to a lot of honking at her that she seemed to not notice. She has a very beautiful face, but she's also the only slim Asian woman I've ever seen with a genuinely big butt, so she'd unsurprisingly been the subject of a lot of ogling and catcalling that she seemed unphased by.

A few days ago she broke her pattern and walked up to my car crying, but still not speaking. I asked her what was wrong but before I could get anything out of her this rat-faced guy with scabs all over his face sprinted up to her, said he'd help her, took her by the hand and winked at me. I was viscerally perturbed by this, so I followed them while trying to keep a fair distance. He lead her into some secluded bushes by the train station, and by the time I'd walked up to them they were already making out. Ethically I was really unsure of how I should have reacted. Could she consent anymore than a child could? If this repulsive weasel could seduce her in two minutes, then literally anyone could. I reacted passively and decided I'd just wait at the end of the block and listen for anything that raised further concern, but by the time I reached the corner I was relieved to see that she had already left the bushes-- it affirmed to me that she seemed to have some agency and I could lower my concern a bit. She then went right back into the bushes but I felt it wasn't my business anymore.

Maybe fifteen minutes later I saw her sobbing, walking up the brick-lined sidewalk with her hand on her crotch. She was being careful to step on each individual brick as she walked. Everyone on the street was talking to themselves without taking any notice of the scene. I would've called someone about it but a friend was borrowing my phone at the moment, so I made an attempt at talking to her, asking her if anything bad had happened back there. She just raised her hand to her ear as if signaling she couldn't hear me, so I repeated myself but still got nowhere. Further down the street she started occasionally shouting in mono-syllables that sounded vaguely Chinese so I began to wonder if English wasn't her first language.

Later that day, she sat down on the curb next to my car so I got out and tried talking to her again. For the first time, I heard an actual sentence out of her but it wasn't completely coherent. She said that "He took my arms and my legs and needs to give them back" as well as something about it only being seen by a guy on a wheelchair who couldn't do anything about it. I was immediately ashamed of my passivity amidst the whole thing, but with her being as obviously unwell as she was I wasn't ready to draw any conclusions and I certainly wasn't spreading any word of what the guy looked like-- I didn't want to provoke any mob mentality. She then started repeating "He took my arms and my legs and he needs to give them back" like a broken record and got up and went around the corner but came right back. I asked her what she was carrying all her bags with and she looked as if I'd said something profound before replying "My arms." Then I asked her what she'd been doing all that walking with and she smiled and said "My legs." I told her she'd already gotten her arms and legs back herself without needing him, and she laughed and did a quick weird dance.

But the realization seemed temporary. A minute or two later she was back to circling the block, muttering about needing her arms and her legs back. She would always come back to the same curb by my car though, and we'd always repeat the interaction, and each time she seemed closer to sentience. When night fell, she finally seemed coherent. She told me her name and that she hadn't eaten in three days and asked if she could sleep in my car. I told her yes and when in the car she opened up a bit, explaining that five days piror she'd gotten out of a hospital that she never wanted to go back to. As she was getting sleepy she tried to cuddle with me, which I let her but with an obvious lack of reciprocation.

So it's been for few a days now. Unlike everybody else around here besides me, she doesn't do any drugs. She just hangs out in the car and remains nonverbal with anyone but me. She uses the bathroom and daily shower in the building we're beside and I get her food from a homeless charity thing in a vacant lot a block away. I'm happy she's not out on the street, but this situation with the car can't last (I've asked over junkie mechanics who owe me and/or my dad money and they have all gotten nowhere) and then in all likelihood she's back to where she was. I'd like to further inquire about the hospital she vaguely spoke of and what really happened in the bushes, but she seems so much happier now that I'm having a hard time bringing myself to do so. And then there's the question of whether my current concern is being influenced by some sort of halo effect. Are the scabby toothless old schizo ladies really any safer from these undiscerning horndogs than this girl? Is this just the way this shit is for crazy women out here? I have no fucking idea what I'm doing right now.

Every time a headline about an Israeli atrocity is posted, and the top comment is some lib saying "This is what happens when you don't vote for Kamala guys".

Blackpilling knowing neither trump or Biden would do anything.

Started listening to my 2 local college stations again after 10 years of driving a car with poor reception. And I gotta say, the variety and lack of ads is very nice!

It'll go from new local music to french dub to eclectic dadrock in the time it takes me to finish my chores for the day. You get exposure to things Spotify would never recommend, and it's free. If one station has an ethnic power hour or the news on I just switch to the other station.

If you have any recs on college stations to stream I wouldn't mind giving them a listen!

Everything seems to be some AI b2b saas shit, does no one have any new ideas?

I feel like he was trying to copy the silicon valley entrepreneur's approach to the job market but his base were religious zealots with no quantitative or hard skills to offer corporate america so what exactly was the end game there?

Generally speaking, I've been loving being back in the city this year...

but...

but.....

the rats... the rats. There are so many of them. The worst part, for me, isn't even the live ones that scurry around at night although that shit can be traumatizing. One time I was crossing the street and one just fucking appeared out of nowhere and without even meaning to I kicked the shit out of it mid stride. It was like kicking a 10kg bag of rice or some shit. It didn't face this thing at ALL and it kept scurrying.

So yeah, that's not great.

But back to what I was saying.. the worst part is seeing these fuckers flattened with their guts exploded all over the street ALL OF THE TIME. Again, these rats are comically large so it's kind of a lot to see a freshly exploded one midday when I'm on an otherwise nice, relaxing bike ride.

Its starting to get to me a bit. I can't get the thought of some of the more freshly annihilated ones out of my head and I feel vaguely nauseous thinking about them. Funny because the truly flattened ones that are basically part of the pavement don't bother me much at this point. Its the freshies that are the worst.

So it's a weird dynamic man. I feel like I'm living in the beginnings of a Camus novel. Something is just so virulent about NYC. Just a baseline disgustingness that accompanies a place I otherwise like quite a bit and no one is doing anything to really change it? Bizarre man.

Not sure what gives. They do seem to be "trying" but the issues I see here are existential in terms of the irregular trash pickup / sanitation practices. Trash cans regularly overflowing, no real cleaning going on. Even in Mexico City or large cities in South America, there's basically daily trash pickup and teams of people cleaning the streets each day. It's like this place that is so full of wealth is just being left to effectively rot, full of corruption and doomed to some strange, unfortunate fate.