masculinity, men, taste, wisdom, writing

Diet

Most of what we buy and eat is crap.

It is killing us, to exercise the choice of a world’s worth of processed cuisine. All of it available 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

There will never be a fat acceptance movement for men.

There are people out there who are proud they cannot cook.

If you can’t see your genitals when you stand up for a piss, if you get out of breath climbing a flight of stairs then how are you supposed to defend yourself?

Defend someone else?

Roll on them.

I’ve been fat. It was easy to get into and I knew what I was eating, dealt with the implications of having a 40 inch waist, and wearing a uniform which required belt and braces. I had stomach issues which were painful and embarrassing. A litany of excuses kept me eating and uncomfortable.

This is where I talk about some embarrassing or life-threatening experience which prompted me to change.

It got too much to live as a fat person.

There was no reason to stay fat. It impacted my health because of my weight, not the other way around and I needed to do something about it.

I don’t have a six-pack but I can take my shirt off and feel good about myself. Food is fuel but with it, an appreciation for taste and texture which makes for interesting experiences and adventures because there is life beyond burgers.

We don’t teach nutrition. I’m not a nutritionist, but much like everything else in this book, we work with principles.

There is a massive amount of misinformation about food.

News reports are scaremongering.

The internet is like drinking from a fire hose in terms of what you should eat.

You should eat according to your goals.

Basic

How often do you eat?

What do you eat?

Do you eat because you’re hungry?

Ask yourself these questions. Apply the answers to your problem.

If you are overweight, then it is a question of where you want to get to to lose fat.

Not weight. If it is all you have as a measurement, then it is fine but your approach should be to lose fat and/or build muscle.

In terms of fat loss, here are the things you can do. Keep to them for thirty days.

Keep it simple.

Meat and vegetables. Find the things you like, learn to cook them. Have a few staples which you return to when it is just you.

Beef

Pork

Lamb

Chicken/Turkey

Venison/Game Meats.

Fish/shellfish

Cabbage

Spinach/kale

Cauliflower

Broccoli

Pulses

Legumes

Root vegetables.

No fruit. Yes, no fruit. It has natural sugars in it, which taste great but get turned into fat by the liver. Fruit is not essential so just lose it as a regular part of your diet. It isn’t in mine.

No calories in drinks. Alcohol has lots of calories, so look at whether the buzz is worth waddling around with a massive belly. Drink water, black tea or coffee. Diet drinks will derail your fat loss above 500mls of aspartame, so you’re better off without them.

Good fats.

Conventional wisdom has it fat is a bad thing. Most dietary advice contained this idea.

There are good and bad fats. You want more of the former and less of the latter.

Fatty cuts of meat. The fat in meat provides flavour which is important because changing how you eat and your body looks is not a chore. Take pleasure where you can and see this as changing your approach to food.

Water.

It quenches your thirst. It has no calories and you are composed of it.

Drink more water than anything else. Rehydration resolves a lot of temporary signals from the brain which get misconstrued as hunger. It keeps your thought processes clear, makes your skin clearer and fuels your body. Ignore drinks with added flavours, as it adds to the amount of hidden sugars in your diet, which will derail any progress you make with changing your habits and physique.

You should weigh yourself and aim for a gram of protein per lb of weight. These proteins should come from whole foods, meat and fish are ideal sources of protein but for my preference, meat is best.

Steak has value. It is easy to prepare and serve, tastes good with little to no additions and is a good meal.

There are carnivore diets available. It is austere, riddled with points and counterpoints but there are lots of people who share their subjective experience and the benefits. Again, as I am not a dietician, it is important to share you must eat and consider your own body. What you respond to, in terms of food, are not the same things my body will.

Eat for Testosterone.

There is a trend with men having low levels of testosterone compared to the previous generation. Testosterone Replacement Therapy is available, but attention paid to your diet and lifestyle can offset this depletion.

Cruciferous vegetables such as cauliflower and broccoli offer vegetable sources of male-friendly hormones. Eat these alongside a good steak and it is a good, clean meal which will make you feel better and stronger for eating it.

Intermittent Fasting.

How do you eat?

Are you grazing on high sugar and carb snacks throughout the day?

Are you eating because you are hungry?

Genuine hunger is rare in the lives of most people, in the west. Seeking it out might be an affectation but there is a strong case for the health benefits of fasting and eating within a window of time.

I practice this as a way to keep things in check. I don’t eat through the day, aside from coffee with a dash of coconut oil as a source of energy. I wait and have one large meal – high protein and fats, such as steak and eggs in the evening. There is no suffering involved once pat the initial response to sustained fasting.

Much like any outlier, there is a lot of information available about the health benefits and practices involved.

Rather than set yourself up to fail, take a day off each week where you indulge all the temptations which crept into your consciousness during the week. The chocolate, pizza and ice cream orgy is a once a week event. It will spike your metabolism so you don’t hit a plateau and also keep you motivated.

One thing I’ve found is that by the end of the day off, I am craving whole foods again. Detach yourself to see the flaws in your diet, and when you experience the sluggishness of a high-sugar diet, you will remain motivated to pursue your goals even harder.

As with any dietary information, do your homework. Seek medical advice where appropriate, but also understand you know your body and lifestyle better than anyone else. Go with whatever works for you and your goals. Take responsibility for yourself.

I do not base these practices on the conventional wisdom of the crowd. If you become an advocate for something unusual because it works for you, expect criticism from those who are unable or unwilling to take responsibility for their own health and wellbeing.

Let them. You are not in competition with anyone but the person you were yesterday. He didn’t have the knowledge you have now, so beating him should be easy and he’s a good sport.

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beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, strength, women

Strength

My strength is not

Solely in service

To the movement

Of things thought

Immovable

Or to break the

Unbreakable

No, let me show

You how I can be gentle

With it in its depths

To open.

Dive into the ocean of you

Retrieve the treasure I saw

From the first

To engulf you with it

Wrists in my hands

Pinned and to fuck light

Into you

Until you bruise

With ripeness

To hold firm amidst the

Storm of you

And trust your flights away

Conclude in reunion

To teach you how to shudder

And get what you ask for

From me without concern

For the cares of others

To trust I give the good,deep ache

Over melancholic paper cuts

And photocopied mantras

Of arbitrary goodness

I tear, I break, I rip

Only to build something

Stronger

In

It’s

Place

Wear a braid

Imagine my hand on it

 

 

 

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ambition, art, beauty, creative writing, desire, emotion, empowerment, hunger, lust, masculinity, passion, poetry, sensuality, spoken word, strength, Uncategorized, women, writing

20161125_123225

So often
Tattered rags
Costumes worn
To uninvited parties
Disguised as
Flags
Uniforms
Nonsense spoken
With solemn expressions
Is not eloquence
And there are those
Who call for no
Power from
Fear of acknowledging
Their own powerlessness
But I have
Found my dominion
A battle within myself
A purpose.
A path
The struggle
Is only in
Competition
With who I
Was yesterday
Always training
To defeat
The man of tomorrow
And you’re welcome
Only if you
Understand the path
Leads further than you
Might have the strength
For
But you’re welcome
To keep up
And in the pauses
When my attention
Turns to you
Ravishing you
With the force of
My self
A man about
his purpose
A beast of
The field
Who knows what
You want
And within that
Gives it
Until you’ve
Been broken
Beneath it
Beautiful in surrendered
Bliss

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beauty, creative writing, desire, emotion, erotic poetry, erotic writing, erotica, hunger, lust, passion, pleasure, poetry, seduction, sensuality, sex, spoken word, strength, Uncategorized, wildness, women, writing

I Know Your Wildness

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creative writing, fiction, short fiction, short stories, strength, Uncategorized, war, women, writing

A Bridge For The Furies: 3

teleportation

Drea looked up at the sky, the kind of blue that you only see on cars and decided that this was all John’s fault.

They had just come off another win, by a rear naked choke in the second round against Jodie Innson, a scrappy Australian who threw a left hand from god and never went much beyond it. Her strategy had been to counter punch, but Drea kept moving at ankles, taking her left leg with good hard kicks and then spending the second round, keeping her on the ground until Drea got on her back and sunk her right bicep in and shut off the blood to her brain with a few pounds of pressure. She had cried when they held her hands up, and John had already started to talk about a title shot for her. So the next few days had been spent eating all the foods she couldn’t in training and recovering from the training camp and the fight.

‘I can’t believe you’ve never seen Akira.’

His english accent made everything sound deeply ironic, except when he would talk dirty to her, ordering her around in a low, deep voice that made her ache with want. She had pulled herself up on her elbow, taking her head from his lap and giving him a challenging stare.

‘Hey, I don’t get time to watch movies.’

His chuckle disarmed her, and so he found it. She liked cartoons, but her tastes went more towards Looney Tunes and Adventure Time than speed lines and body horror, plus she had seen how some of the fans dressed and those were reasons enough to have avoided it, without any real skin in the game.

The animation captured the youthful nihilism of the gangs, the grey shrunken apple faces of the other experimental subjects and the gum bubble delicate explosions that raze Neo Tokyo into rubble at the film’s climax. She babbled excitedly about it until the conversation turned to kissing and the kissing turned into an impromptu wrestling match, using the kind of moves that meant they both won in the doing. His hands moved over her with a focused care and when they made it to the bed, she fell into a deep and instant sleep.

She felt the wind on her face, tasted the smell of burning plastic on her tongue.The chanting carried over to her, riding the boisterous thump of drums and she began to shudder with the cold that bit into her skin.

John had spoken about lucid dreaming before. It was one of those things that she would mock him about, but he maintained a patience that came from experience and told her that it was possible to be awake in a dream. It took technique, determination and ritual, but those were things that applied to her world however, she liked that her dreams were inconsistent and illogical so she listened without taking it in.

Apparently, she had taken in more than she thought. Which was a big part of her relationship with John, anyway. The take away from that is that she was stood, awake and aware, in what appeared to be a neon stained and smoke stinking place that she had never been before. To her credit, Drea did not lose her shit completely.

‘Holy shit.’

She looked up at the sky, saw the twinkling of strange shapes in the sky, ovoid and shifting as they undulated through the air, the way that a caterpillar moved across a leaf. Her thoughts grew light and thin, a balloon being slowly deflated by the passage of time. She remembered to breathe and decided not to cry in disbelief and awe.

Music started behind her, close enough that she heard the moist intake of breath before the first, perfect note slicing through the air. She turned and looked at the woman. Her long hair, the white of bone that fell to her waist in easy, glossy waves, the black robe with the grey belt, worn from endless bouts of tying and retying and the sandalled feet. She held a bamboo flute and closed her eyes as she played. Drea noted the cupids bow lips, pale against the instrument and the lean corded muscles in her forearms, the yellowing callluses on her palms and how she sat without a fear in the world.

She looked at Drea with eyes of purest jade, animal in their purity and lack of consciousness and guile.

‘Sob carefully, the headwinds will cost you tears.’

Drea frowned, adopting a fighting stance, fuelled by pure muscle memory but the woman did not flinch.

‘Sob carefully, the headwinds will cost you tears.’

Drea fought the prickling unease, wondering when she would wake up. The ground beneath her feet held the rough ugly utility of truth and she decided that if this took a deeper turn into the strange than it had already, she would make herself wake up.

The woman stood, placed the flute on the ground without breaking eye contact.

‘I heard you the first time, now what the fuck is going on?’

The woman stretched with the guile of a child trying to stay up past their bedtime, eyes closed as she arched her back and extended her arms to the sky, fingers splayed before she began to move towards Drea, arms down by her sides.

Drea brought her hands up, threw a teep kick that should have delivered a solid blow to the white haired woman’s solar plexus hard enough to make her fold like laundry but hit nothing but air as the woman had thrown herself into the air, knees tucked tight against her chest and already half way over Drea before she realised.

Drea spun her upper body, whipping the point of her right elbow around, aiming for where she thought the woman might land. Drea had fought girls who put together sweet little routines when they got into the ring, thinking of the hits on social media rather than the fight itself. She had taken great pleasure in knocking them out when the opportunity arose. Here, though it had been reduced to something surreal and primal.

Survival.

The woman whipped her head back and Drea felt her breath on the skin of her elbow, already stepping around and using the momentum to launch herself into the woman’s space. Drea registered that the white hair appeared to float independent of gravity and velocity, but she figured that this was a dream and reminded herself that she should be angry with John when she woke up.

The hair surged forward, knotting itself into ropes as it swung hammer blows at Drea’s shoulders and face. Drea dipped forward, threw a right cross that caught the woman on the bridge of her nose and registered the impact travelling down her arm. A good punch made it’s own statement and Drea marvelled at how real it all felt.

The ropes smacked down between her shoulders with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs and she wheezed as her legs started to give out. She grabbed the woman’s shoulders and pulled her into her arms as they both fell. The woman greeted the ground with a lover’s enthusiasm, and Drea felt the woman groan with the impact. Drea had years of admonitions to breathe ground into her through training and she sucked in what air she could as she forced her arms to keep wrapped around the woman.

The hair struck again and Drea used her hips to roll the woman with her, onto her side, and lifted her left arm to punch her in the orbital bone. Without a referee, Drea was capable of damage and this woman had pissed her off without a reason. Between those two poles, Drea registered the sensation of the bone breaking with a grim pleasure. Like punching an egg set on a kitchen counter under a towel, the horrible push of skin and bone moving in ways that a face would not.

The woman with the white hair cried out and Drea was grappling with air. Drea looked up and saw her, hair wavering like white hydra and without a mark on her. She bowed deeply at Drea and skipped forward, extending a thin, pale hand to help her up.

Drea registered her injuries as a spectrum of different textures and sensations. The muscles in her back pinched with each movement, her shoulders stung with a tingling malevolence that went deep into her tissues. She got to her feet, wishing there was someone in her corner as she got to her feet.

‘The hair thing was pretty cool.’

The woman giggled, the sound of broken glass and skipped backwards.

‘You fought well, Drea.’

Drea rubbed her arms and looked around.

‘Yay, my subconscious is cheer leading for me. Now tell me what the fuck is going on?’

The woman’s hair slid back behind her ears and down her back with the delicious economy of a sword being sheathed. She bowed again.

‘They sent me to judge if you were a worthy fighter. I will be pleased to report that your skills are more than adequate.’

Drea managed to raise a weary smile. She had been privy to a carnival of images when she slept but this was far too concise and focused for her tastes.

‘Adequate for what?’

The woman lowered her eyes and gave a thin smile.

‘Saving the world.’

TO BE CONTINUED

Previous episodes are here and here

 

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alchemy, anxiety, beauty, compassion, courage, creative writing, desire, emotion, empowerment, experience, love, mental illness, passion, pleasure, poetry, social media, stoicism, strength, Uncategorized, wildness, wisdom, writing

Animal Vs Angel

When the black eyed angel folds it’s wings

Around me, I would tear them,

Root and stem

Unmanned, and in my divine rage

Dash it’s ugly skull into the concrete

It is not an action fuelled by violence

In the palace of my skull

Wanders an animal

And it knows not love nor hate

But survival

And it is that,

A compulsion that blesses

The places where the world wounds me

It screams it’s hate into my face

But I remain inviolate,

I have work to do,

And armoured in that

I face the legions that follow it,

Bleak envoys that tied me to darkened rooms

Silenced me but I have many allies,

Beautiful, brave, bold and quick

Set against

These monstrous shadows that claim so many

Dumb pawns invigorating them with the phrase

‘Pull yourself together’

But I have triumphed before

I carry it’s memories in my veins

And I will win again.

Wash the blood off my hands

With the sweetest love

I’ve ever known

 

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ambition, beauty, creative writing, desire, dominance, emotion, empowerment, erotic poetry, hunger, inspiration, lust, masculinity, purpose, sensuality, strength, surrender, women

Man of Tomorrow, Beast of the moment

So often
Tattered rags
Costumes worn
To uninvited parties
Disguised as
Flags
Uniforms
Nonsense spoken
With solemn expressions
Is not eloquence
And there are those
Who call for no
Power from
Fear of acknowledging
Their own powerlessness
But I have
Found my dominion
A battle within myself
A purpose.
A path
The struggle
Is only in
Competition
With who I
Was yesterday
Always training
To defeat
The man of tomorrow
And you’re welcome
Only if you
Understand the path
Leads further than you
Might have the strength
For
But you’re welcome
To keep up
And in the pauses
When my attention
Turns to you
Ravishing you
With the force of
My self
A man about
his purpose
A beast of
The field
Who knows what
You want
And within that
Gives it
Until you’ve
Been broken
Beneath it
Beautiful in surrendered
Bliss

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