Whatever

Fuckery, Discontent, Gratitude

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Well, it’s that time again

Life finally gave me enough shitty stimuli for me to write again

Life is swell

Money is slowly stacked

I got new window shades

I make roastbeef dishes that are absolutely delightful

All the stuff that makes up for my inability to take decent chunks of shit without burning up like a scorched Afghan corpse

Since everything is on the up, I’ve been thinking.. what’s the next move? What would make me happier?

I could juice up to 220 lbs maybe?

Get a new place?

Become a G Manifesto bootleg copy with suit swoops?

I don’t fucking know, I just don’t want to be content that much I’m certain

We men are never truly satisfied, when we’re satisfied we lose our flame, our mojo, OUR BALLS

Even when God sends morally questionable hot adult teens into my life which I always ask for.. I get excited and then it’s.. just another slice of life to handle…

Business plays and parlor tricks, yada yada.. routine bullshit

I say I wanna challenge myself in the career field, I find hardass clientele that busts balls.. I get it as ordered.. And it’s like.. a nuisance.. not even a trouble.. just something you wanna move past on a checklist

What if getting my custom-made Italian suit- wandering the high-end district-Met Gala- Egyptian silk sheet threesome fantasies will disappoint just as much?

Does anything material and physical in this life besides mortal combat ever make you whole?

Besides the worship of God, everything is futile

I feel like King Solomon

Everything is so dull

The medicine to such nihilism boils down to:

  1. Keep good company
  2. Meet interesting people, find muse and inspiration in your fans and critics alike
  3. Kiss beautiful women
  4. Thank God
  5. Thank GOD

Just keep the gratitude train rolling

Because somewhere is a one-nutted motherfucker that is praying nightly to have your life as is even if it’s subjectively SHIT

I will keep wearing decent to extravagant clothing, I will keep annoying hot girls that have world-class ass (hello if you’re reading this you sexy bitch ❤️), I will continue to maintain the Stones are better than the shitty Beatles, I will not eat bugs, I will stay hot and manifest good vibes, I WILL GET A GOOD NIGHT’S REST!

Hopefully, I will continue to have more subjects to write about soon and a nice sloppy blowjob to accompany the typing

The new WordPress editor is cancer

Xoxo,
Restless Stud

Did You Know There’s A New Year™ In Planet Earth®?

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Happy belated New Year you delightful fucks. How are you all doing?

You motivated to succeed until February pulls up on yo ass like an undercover cop car? You heartbroken again due to beautiful belligerent bitches? You making a lot of money at the expense of your humanity?

Whatever it may be, I understand ya.

The New Year is always an exciting time for many.

It’s all glammer and it feels like you just escaped the slammer of Previous Year.

You’re a free man/woman/toad.

There’s no calendar days attached to trauma and depression! You can start FRESH! Although the lingering rectal sting sensation from previous life fuck ups remains forever, the optimism is plentiful.

This isn’t a depressing post. It’s a motivate-you-to-rawdog-every-year-until-you-die post.

New Year is just a psyop. Time is possibly not even a real thing. But humans are symbolic and the idea of new™ lets us cope and ignore our blatant PTSD from living in the lamest era of humanity.

So my point is this:

Let’s go get this fucking bread

Let’s continue to do silly shit

Let’s lift weights and not get heart attacks like certain people randomly do now

Let’s just have fun because we all will die soon enough

To all the homies that remained in my life trying to make it, big love.

To all my sexy weirdo ladies, padre loves you too and I know you’re just confused. It’s never personal.

2023 is here and we STILL won’t rest and FOREVER will not sleep.