Wake up early.
Do not look at that stupid phone; the siren of digital demons means nothing to you.
Go for a walk, meet the morning air, make the local coyotes scared of you.
Cardio, weights, and please, no podcasts.
Keep writing, but with more muscle this time.
Listen to music they do not play on the radio, watch movies they do not play in theatres.
Hang out with old friends, and make new ones.
And fuck it, go all in again; not out of some pretense of less foolish wisdom, but because there is really nothing better to do.
You are free, which many experience as a burden. It’s easier to run back into some form of captivity. It’s scary out there—“encowering.” Too much to respond to. Most are finding ways to reenter the womb, that warm, comfortable, safe space. You hear the sleazy digital whispers with nurturing pretense: these algorithms will take care of you, just put your fate in their hands…
No. That is not how this plays out. The chaos dancing inside won’t allow it. Choice, that heavenly drug, demands something more. When choice is here, fire is near. I read this book a long time ago; I cannot remember if it was good, but the title was...
Yes!
FIRE IN THE BELLY.
This phrase alone is worth having the book in your hands. I looked at my notes and found these quotes…
"The dispassionate, postmodern, cool man is the antithesis of the phallic male - no passion, no standing forth, no risk, no eros, no drive to survive and enrich history."
“There are two questions a man must ask himself: The first is 'Where am I going?' and the second is 'Who will go with me?' If you ever get these questions in the wrong order you are in trouble.”
"The exemplary man, the hero, is excited by the unknown."
The phallic drive, the penetrative clarity, the excitement of the unknown. That is where the fire comes from. The flames do not start on their own; you’ve got to do something about it. Summer starts today. It's hot outside. Good. Make it hot inside as well.
