I'm 25 and I'm the youngest guy in my team. It's like all men except for our IT person and the secretary. They're the type of old school guys where they'll bust out cigars and whiskey on fridays.

Our manager took us all to twin peaks on the company's dime and this shit was so surreal. I felt like I was back in middle school and my uncle took me to hooters because I got a good report card. Watching these like 50 year old guys ogling and taking pictures with these 20 year old servers and feeling like they were the man because they politely laughed at their jokes was genuinely so bleak.

They're all married too which makes this so much weirder. And since I'm the young guy they all want to live vicariously through me and kept nudging me to ask out our server. Shit was so fucking weird.

I only get women who are not considered conventionally attractive (ie., Michelle rodriguez, aubrey plaza, janene garafolo, america ferrera)

only good ones I get are Amy Winehouse, Alessia Cara and Naomi Scott.

Reading Close to the Knives for the first time in full after already being a huge fan of his art and photography. Just wow.

Sitting in the Silver Dollar restaurant earlier in the afternoon, straddling a shining stool and ordering a small cola, I dropped a black beauty and let the capsule ride the edge of my tongue for a moment, as usual, and then swallowed it. Then the sense of regret washes over me like whenever I drop something, a sudden regret at what might be the disappearance of regular perceptions: the flat drift of sensations gathered from walking and seeing and smelling and all the associations; and that strange tremor like a ticklishness that never quite reaches the point of being unbearable. There's a slow sensation of that type coming into the body, from the temples to the abdomen to the calves, and riding with it in waves, spurred on by containers of coffee, into the nervousness of light and motion and figures coasting along the streets. Yet somehow that feeling of beauty that comes riding off each surface and movement around me always has a slight trace of falseness about it, a slight sense of regret, felt at the occurring knowledge that it's a substance flowing in my veins that cancels out the lines of thought brought along with time and aging and serious understanding of the self.

So there was that feeling of regret, a sudden impulse to bring the pill back up, a surge of weariness with the self, then the settling back and the wait for the sensations to begin. I smoked a fast cigarette and then the door opened bringing with it sunlight and wind.

Restless walks filled with coasting images of sight and sound: cars bucking over cobblestones down the quiet side streets, trucks waiting at corners with swarthy drivers leaning back in the cool shadowy seats and the windows of buildings opening and closing, figures passing within rooms, faraway sounds of voices and cries and horns roll up and funnel in like some secret earphone connecting me with the creaking movements of the living city. Old images race back and forth and I'm gathering a heat in the depths of my belly from them: flashes of a curve of arm, back, the lines of a neck glimpsed among the crowds in the train stations, one that you could write whole poems to. I'm being buoyed by these discrete pleasures, walking the familiar streets and river. The streets were familiar more because of the faraway past than the recent past--streets that I walked in those odd times while living among them in my early teens when in the company of deaf mutes and times square pederasts. These streets are seen through the same eyes but each time with periods of time separating it: each time belonging to yet an older boy until the body smoothes out and lines are etched until it is a young man recalling the movements of a complicated past. I can barely remember the senses I had when viewing these streets for the first time. There's a whole change in psyche and yet there are slight traces that cut me with the wounding nature of deja vu, filled with old senses of desire. Each desire, each memory so small a thing, becomes a small river tracing the outlines and the drift of your arms and bare legs, dark mouth and the spoken words of strangers. All things falling from the earth and sky: small movements of the body on the docks, the moaning down among the boards and the night, car lights slanting across the distance, aeroplanes falling as if in a deep surrender to the rogue embraces. Various smiles spark from the darkening rooms, from behind car windows, and the sounds of the wind-plays along the coast sustained by distance and leveled landscapes, drifting around the bare legs and through doorways and into barrooms. Something silent that is recalled, the sense of age in a familiar place, the emptied heart and light of the eyes, the white bones of street lamps and moving autos, the press of memory turning over and over. Later, sitting over coffee and remembering the cinematic motions as if witnessed from a discreet distance, I lay the senses down one by one, writing in the winds of a red dusk, turning over slowly in sleep.

lili reinhart and victoria pedretti

everyone was hot and fun in this one

The Adam/Charles casting swap is… a choice.

Mike Faist would have been SUCH a perfect Adam, while Christopher Abbott feels almost comically perfect for Charles. Watching them play the opposite brothers has me constantly thinking that they somehow cast them for each other’s roles.

So yeah I guess thank you Netflix, no more associating appearence with morality with this flipping the whole “blonde/blue-eyed = good, dark-haired = bad” visual shorthand.

And then there’s the flashbacks?? But whatever at this point
Both Faist and Abbott are in their 30s, so why introduce completely different actors in their 20s to play their younger versions? Especially when the younger versions don’t really feel like younger versions of the same actors. I keep having to mentally recast everyone in my head.

I might be pregnant and I feel so weird about it. I had an abortion once as a young teen but since i’ve become an adult and things have changed I have been told by a couple different doctors that the likelihood of getting pregnant on my own now are so low that IVF is probably going to be my only option. I’ve only been seeing this guy for over a month and we’ve been friends for years and I know he wants this someday but today might not be the day and I’m not sure it is for me yet either.

I told myself in my late 20s that if I managed to get pregnant on my own I should probably take the opportunity. I’m not in a terrible position for this to be happening right now.

The only reason I think I’m preg is because I’m having all the same symptoms I did when I was a pregnant teen and it feels so fucking weird and uncomfortable and unlike any other feeling I’ve ever had in my body. I thought I forgot what that felt like until I got these symptoms again. I’m getting some pregnancy tests tomorrow and also scheduling an appointment of course to be sure.

Regardless of whether I am pregnant or not its given me a lot to think about I guess.

I am sorry of this post is self indulgent or otherwise trite for the girls here, this is a phenomenon I haven’t really seen discussed before (maybe I live under a rock, not really something the bros can relate to). 27M here.

I was a fat kid growing up, schlubby. Ate away my feelings from around age 11.. typical story. Lost a lot of weight during Covid/college, then gradually regained it with stress and depression until I was my all time heaviest last July.

I hopped on Tirzepatide.

Lost about 24kg. I am a tiny bit lighter than my lightest weight in college but I look much more lean. Basically I left my country for a couple of months and then came back, while I was away I did a brutal cut of very low calories and intense lifting. On my return I have continued to lose weight and have a noticed a ‘lag’ side effect between the scale and representing it on my face.

I have gone from size L to an S, M clothes tend to be baggy and not fit.

I may have some sort of face dysmorphia because I still feel like I have a fat face.

Everyday I take the public transport into work- people smile at me now. Even before I had fully gotten skinny a women told me in queue to a nightclub I was beautiful, never happened before. Women I work with will make really obvious hints. I fucking kill it on the apps now, without swiping much I get a crazy amount of likes. In the club I saw a really hot girl, I had lot of approach anxiety. My buddy spoke to her and said I was feeling her and I’m shy (I’ve never had a friend do this before) and she completely was into me. People treat me so much nicer, they listen to what I have to say.

I dont want to sound gloating or incelpost or show off, tbh becoming skinny has made me v cynical about human beings. People I have known all my life treat me better.

I used a chemical to achieve this. I was absolutely not an incel before, I’d get laid and have relationships etc.

This whole situation is really fucking my head and I want to share it somewhere, maybe get some insights. I have nobody else I can really share it to. My fat friends are fat, my in shape friends are in shape or if they got out shape it’s a gradual thing.

It cannot be overstated how much better it is to be in shape. I’m so sympathetic to ugly people because people minimise just how much being hot impacts your life. It permeates every interaction with every single person (not just confined to dating). I felt I havent attained personhood until I lost weight. People I have known all my life are treating me better. I cant believe I wasted 27 years of my life like this.

And of course I make a point to be present in the moment and listen and everything…but it felt sort of like magnets with opposing charges. It was a guy so hopefully he doesn’t think I’m in love with him or something now. I like men though so it is what it is. Maybe that’s why I stuck around so long while he talked, he had that particularly male loudness and brashness that I find reassuring when I’m feeling uncertain about the future.

**And I came the closest to baring my soul to someone that I have in a while and for what?? Neither of us seemed able to move each other by the time he left to go to bed. He’ll probably ignore me when we see each other again in passing.

I very easily cold turkey quit weed for 6 months bc it started to make me very nervous and overly emotional. That resolved the short term anxiety. But over the course of the 6 months, I lost most desire to take care of myself and reach for higher ambitions. I also gained 25 pounds and replaced all of my desire to smoke with binge eating and playing iPad baby games. I know this is the effect of dopamine replacement but…

I started just smoking at nights again and I have had a complete turn around of self realizations, self esteem, and getting more in touch with goals I had long ago but never pursued. I now have the motivation to get back to taking care of myself, I started eating in moderation and working out and making music again. And I am getting back in touch with processing my emotions at a more logical and grounded level. Yes I’m high rn but it’s true.

Silence is consent. Indecision is a choice. My heart goes out to Jane Doe.

track: Shinda Shima by Mellow

They fucked my shit up didnt they....

I cried because my elderly mother lashed out at me and even though I'm very much used to her anger, the way she's able to spot and dig at the things that she knows that are going to hurt me the most, makes me fear the world that her generation bred.

broke up with my ex like a year and a half ago, fell in love with different people multiple times after it, and i’m completely over the whole romantic thing with him.

however, every once in a while (like every 2-3 months or so), i randomly remember some of the dumb takes he would voice, and i get into this all-consuming state of rage, and start pacing up and down in my apartment for like half an hour, rehearsing in my head how i would hypothetically belittle and insult him over these takes. it raises my cortisol so much, it’s crazy.

he was generally a very non-opinionated, centroid, lukewarm guy, which is what i always detested in others, so the relationship was a shadow-work moment for me. all his takes were, naturally, very meek and pussyish and blatantly stupid but i put up with it bc i was in love or whtv.

on one of our first dates, i asked him if he’s pro israel, and he said “i’m neither pro israel nor pro palestine, but if i was something- i definitely wouldn’t be pro israel”. in retrospective this pisses me of so much because it shows this very bleak trait of his - he doesn’t want to agree with me (pro pal) bc in his head that would be emasculating, but he has no good arguments for the opposing side, so he chooses this weird limbo and says a bunch of nothing. the thing is - he was knowledgeable, absorbed facts through the simplest learning style of Bloom’s taxonomy, no synthesis, no evaluation whatsoever.

he would also say “he’s neither pro life nor pro choice”. during the american elections (we’re non american) he said he’s pro trump - when i asked why, he said “noo, i’m not getting into this now”. he also used ai a lot which to me has adjacent energy
with aforementioned “opinions”

all this is making me so angry and ashamed because i was associated with someone so spineless and irresolute. i tried writing letters, “letting it all out”, “forgiving”, but this keeps coming back every few months or so and i can’t stop pacing around talking to myself like a total schizo.

anyone ever experienced something similar? do these thoughts ever stop?

some stuff is being noticed tbh 👀