A place for a


Ibuprofen killed my sex drive, and other libi-en-dangers

The pain is gone. I wake up after my first sleep for 40 hours. Gone with the pain is my will to focus and my libido. My combination technique doesn’t work. Yes, I had been wishing for the pain to go away.

My great passion had been going on for two weeks until yesterday, when I unwillingly started to scream at the doctor’s who was treating my otitis externa, an inflammation of the outer ear.

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The pain of status and rivalry

I am observing a man and two women at the restaurant. My chest is compressed by an invisible pressure strong enough to make it difficult to breathe. What is this? Why should it be so painful to simply look at people?

My gaze is reciprocated a few times, but never held for an extended period of time. My chest loosens up and I calmly continue my observation: A rather uptight, very properly and boringly clothed man is accompanied by two women; despite his glaring uneasiness, they exaggeratedly laugh at things he says, sometimes conjuring a smug smile on his face. Neither he nor they seem to be honestly enjoying themselves.

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When women say: Show your weakness

The best trick of the devil was … you know it, don’t you? His best trick was to invent language to manipulate men. His second best trick was to make them believe in their own integrity and rationality.

I will be writing a lot about language and the way it shapes our thinking. Ever since my Ayahuasca retreat I have been firmly convinced that words are anchors inside our minds to limit our thinking and control us.

Today’s issue is one about the statement: Show your weakness.

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The rationality of the subconscious

A child draws a bloody corpse or paints everything in black. Another child paints flowers and colorful dragons. Whatever. People say women are irrational. People say emotions are irrational. Bullshit. Only a fool considers emotions irrational.

Granted, I am being polemic. After all, the definition of rational thought necessitates consciousness. So by definition it is virtually nonsense to ask whether the subconscious or emotions are rational; to say that one’s emotions are irrational is as useful an information as the claim that apples are not strawberries. Well, they aren’t. Obviously. Is one supposed to be insulted?

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The man who watched his father die

Growing up without a father was … not really hard. I didn’t know any better. It was only when I dared to look back and see what could’ve been that I felt a deep regret. Yet being a victim can make you blind towards others’ struggle, friend or enemy. I want to share with you a story of a man I met on my journey to Peru and whom I respect and love despite the fact that I do not know him very well.

Sash Jorden is an actor from Hollywood and a classic straight American guy. When I asked him if he was interested in contributing, he was as kind as to share a very personal story about his father’s death in his early 20s.

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Mor – a new name for butterflies in the stomach

Fucking butterflies in the stomach. What idiot invented that? How do you feel? Butterflies in my stomach. What kind of answer is that? And what if you feel it in your chest? Butterflies in my chest? To me, it does feel nothing like butterflies.

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Do you really want girls? And Life?

Do you really want to have an exciting flirt with that hot girl?
Yeah, I know. Bad boys don’t flirt. They take what’s theirs. Apply it to any style you wish. Now shut up.

Do you really want to let her look into your eyes and see your soul for what it is and offer your burning desire to her as carelessly excited as if it was a replaceable bonbon? Do you want to let her go anytime if she doesn’t show interest?

Do you really want to lie on top of her and touch her, knowing that she keenly observes anything you do to her? Knowing that she might not like it?

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No, mother, no, fuck you, oh god, no, please, no

It’s my holiday. I have borrowed my mothers car.

I visit a place of my childhood. I am living an adventurous life, walk paths I haven’t walked before.

Then I see the cliffs across the lake. The cliffs from my childhood I always wanted to climb. They look dangerous. I remember that this holiday stands under a motto. Do the bold thing. I understand. Yes!

I climb into the car to drive around the lake. Drive around my home where accidentally my parents live. My neighbor says: Your parents miss you. I decide to say Hi. I am strong. I enter, my own man, telling of my adventures. Neither my mother nor my grandmother, my only real family, approve. Okay, as expected. I am offered christmas biscuit. With my last will power I refuse. I am shaken by their insensitivity. You fuckers never cared about my health!

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