leftForDeadPhoenix
Don Juan
Pook has put up another good post on his blog: Live In The Talent
His writing just keeps getting better. Keep it up Pook.
His writing just keeps getting better. Keep it up Pook.
That sentence contains at least five follow-up questions she WANTS you to ask. Where in Florida? What brought you here? How long have you been in the area? What do you miss? How does it compare to here?
She handed them to you on a silver platter. And you said, "Oh cool. I come here every week. I love this band. Ummm... pretty crowded tonight."
She smiled politely. Nodded. And never texted you back.
I was that guy for years. Talking too much. Listening too little. Panicking about my next sentence while she was literally feeding me the answers.
Then I found 22 rules that fixed the whole thing. Rule number one: shut up and listen. She'll tell you exactly what to say.
Next Monday you'll feel more confident. After the gym you'll feel more confident. After one more drink you'll feel more confident. After you get a better haircut, a better jacket, a better job.
You've been "getting ready" for two years.
She's standing ten feet away right now. She'll be gone in four minutes. No amount of preparation will manufacture the courage that only comes from moving your feet.
Walk over. Stumble through the first sentence. Let it be clumsy. Let it be imperfect. You will feel more alive in those ten seconds than you have all month.
When I read B.S. like that last post on Pook's Mill, I ask myself the exact same question.Gaucho said:Oh god, that is rhetoric if ever I have read it.
Is Pook actually successful, or just likes to live in fantasy land?
Next Monday you'll feel more confident. After the gym you'll feel more confident. After one more drink you'll feel more confident. After you get a better haircut, a better jacket, a better job.
You've been "getting ready" for two years.
She's standing ten feet away right now. She'll be gone in four minutes. No amount of preparation will manufacture the courage that only comes from moving your feet.
Walk over. Stumble through the first sentence. Let it be clumsy. Let it be imperfect. You will feel more alive in those ten seconds than you have all month.
I dunno, for me it's not really hard to understand. It's about using your sexual energy to accomplish greatness. It's not a new theory. It's more about accepting that reality of yourself instead of using your sexual energy for merely pleasure alone. I think it's a good observation on human nature that a lot of modern men miss.Technical1 said:I guess its cool if you want to preserve Pook's memory and image or whatever.... but "Just live in the talent"?
live....in the talent?
what-ever.
I mean to say with this inspirational stuff it gets to a point where nobody knows what the author is exactly talking about anymore but nobody cares because he is "inspired" "enlightened" and hey, inspirational messages are ALWAYS good, de facto and de jure. (I actually dont know what the second expressions means lol).
An inspirational message has to be targeted to its audience like any other peice of writing. You can excuse Pook on the basis that he's on a higher level than someone like myself, but then who is this spiritual elite that is reading Pook's work and finding truth in the mantra "Live in the talent?"
So I guess I just have to accept that Pook is over my head, and that the reason his writing makes no sense to me anymore is because I havent reached his level. Well, if that were the case he could be a little more cryptic and esoteric rather than speaking in tones which seem open to be understood by everyman. Because he still writes like an inspiration for the man in the street except it doesnt make sense anymore. Live in the talent? Sex and man's striving form an ellipse?
You asked her if she wanted to grab coffee. Then you asked if the time worked. Then you asked if the place was okay. Then you asked if she'd prefer tea.
Four questions. Four chances for her to say no. Four signals that you're terrified of making a decision.
Plan it. Pick the place. Pick the time. Tell her where to meet you. She'll either show up or she won't.
Either way, you look like a man instead of a scared little boy.