He is starting a Jungian Coaching and Magical Consultation business at the age of 56. ****/fetlife dynamics of course.
56 years of being a loser, now a coaching loser who charge fees to the lost and the vulnerable on  how to be a loser who does not know they are a loser.

He writes and writes about the goddess he is searching for.
"I was born to serve her", he writes.

He is also very picky. He writes a lot about that too.

It never works out with him and whatever Goddess.
His submission is too much of a gift and he is also very picky.

He uses the term "lover". It makes me want to *****.
Even more disturbingly, his former "lover" died in 2019.

Apparently, as repulsive as he is, she loved him until the end.
But conveniently, he did not want her. He writes that they split in 1999, so 20 years later after she dumped him, he magically rejected her as she was dying.
"She loved him until the very end", he writes.
Of course, the dead woman wants him.
Of course, he was full of reasons why he was too good for her.
Of course he is listening to whatever **** album they bought together in the 90's.

Of course.

He also had another "ex" (who he claims ownership of by using the term "ex" even though this person probably broke it off with him once she realized how full of **** he was), who is dying of cancer.

According to him, this is all OK because she is a Gemini with a moon in Pisces and is curious about the other side.

Nonchalant and self serving about the death and cancer of others to present your repulsive self as wantable when no one actually wants you.

It's no big deal you are dying of cancer because of your astrological sign and I am a fat, pudgy man with a fetlife profile who has failed at life but am now posting about how you wanted me more than I wanted you! Other side!

He quips as all fattish parasites do: "When we're all in hell, you'll be able to recognize him because he will be the annoying one cracking joke and explaining to everyone how we got there".

He will be going to hell. There will be no jokes there. He will be crawling on all fours, lit on fire, forever lit on fire, suffering and suffering as he deserves to suffer. He has spent his entire life earning his eternal suffering.

There will be no end.

i.

let's give pakistan money
to nuke india.
never a higher mountain than trash.

the Western world needs this to happen,
both are a problem,
but one more populated than the other.

looking for a job lately?
there is so much to be said for colonization.
india says everything.

india amazon selling bottles of cow ****,
either (don't) accept it or drink it,
do you really want to drink it?

some days are over,
we have learned too much, we see and see and cannot stop seeing.

ii.

too much loneliness
a number that stays zero
dreams that have nowhere left to travel
the times, they are so bare

the way hope expels
for good,

the king of England
wears a tablecloth on his head
his kingdom, his country, a gutted intestine
it is very crowded there

all the king's countrymen &
all the good places to go
disemboweled
third world kneels in parasitic prayer

***** garbage on the ground, ***** garbage all around
the way hope expels
for good,
it is no small tear

can't even begin to imagine
how painful it must be to have ended up with him

at 20 what could i have ever known
besides what i thought was good looking at the time

it's so interesting how the woman he ended up with
is also a CPA

but he wanted to be an artist and never had the right stuff
i kind of knew that, even then, but i didn't know i knew

still know nothing about art, i like japanese woodblocks,
pagodas and cherry blossoms and round bridges have a lot to say
in all four seasons, they always something easy to say,

but at the time i liked magritte, i bought some books.

talked and talked
kissed and kissed
i told everything, being young
not knowing what to hold back

he did not tell me everything
or about his wife and other girlfriend
but i found out later

she followed me around for years
she believed everything he said, but loved him so much
she enjoyed being cruel.

sadly, i sat beside him
as he drew, i knew but did not know i knew.
nothing that he drew was important, it was all a boring waste of time. i was too willing to put up with it.

the last time i talked to him was the day before 9/11
he told me i would leave him, i pledged i wouldn't but ended up telling him to ******* and never talk to me again because he apparently said something else i can't remember now.

i had come home from work after cutting a filthy muslim man's hair. i remember being disgusted at the shampoo bowl and not knowing i was disgusted.

the next day the planes flew into the towers. everyone on the sylvia plath mailing list starting screaming and crying about we shouldn't be hateful to muslims as all the news footage showed the hijab wearing women ululating in the streets.

years later, julee was still following me around. laughing at me but begging for information. any information. "what kind of clothes did he wear". she asked other questions, but i can't remember now. i never answered her. it was ridiculous.

he and julee had gone on some fifth dimension rampage which I laughed and laughed at.

he ended up with someone else though, kind of ugly with her thin face, tries really hard,  but a CPA just like me. julee is an artist though.

no one else is on this train
you most likely masked up for it
like a good boy, like a very good boy
who voted for trudeau every single time

once there was still time
you downloaded all the mp3's
a man who never becomes a man can
before he passes his deadline to become a man
so never becomes a man

alex chilton and all kinds of richard hell
yeah, a few of us even took it all off back then
but the day became another day
and then another day

and one day, your good day
was making $40 CAD on a baseball card trade
not just a hobby, but an investment you had said
in-between downloading your mp3's and briefly pledging your soundtrack love
to woman after woman before changing your mind

then, even that day was over
none of the girls who became women worked out
not a single one

forever proud to be a canadian
who voted for trudeau every single time

now you're just reduced to tweeting
"you don't get it, you really don't get it"
when your dear weak leaders are mocked

the tariffs are coming, the tariffs are coming
to your  jeet conquered country.

Winter, winter mornings
What you going to promise, promise me
Winter, winter morning
You might have been the diamond
Wasted like a diamond,

Wasted love
Untasted love

I am walking all your blocks
Onward to hopeless
***** passing ***** by
An asbestos blanket to wrap the homeless
A man who knows his worth
So falsely

The cold is painful
There's a ditch with my name in it
The sun shines so brightly

Please don't see me, you see so kindly
Your kindness kind of gets to me
I still have some things left to lose

(I didn't like me once I met me
Time numbs until it doesn't
I was but then I wasn't
It wasn't too much to ask
Just too hard to be

Your kindness kind of got to me,
I didn't think you could help me
I still had some things left to lose
Your kindness kind of cut through me).

how can we survive the
hard swallowed grey air,

we’ve fought too long for this blank stare
years of orange and white umbrellas foretold it every morning
heart sinking, rents and housing prices rising
we didn’t guess they would **** all the chickens

the car has no driver and the driver has no car
they taxed the gasoline and the milage and blacked out the electric grid
the vain wheels spin and spin so obsolescently
such futility always hard at work in South Lake Union

could have/should have never happened, but it happened
cities built on ones and zeros
cities fall on ones and zeros
sanctuary cities burn on ones and zeros

who knows what He wills when  He wills
but there are fires rolling down up in those hills
how the flames aim
word on the street spreading  like wild fire

crowded, crowded streets, and too too many jeets
the car has no driver and the driver has no car
butter a forgone luxury
india a forfeited humanity

no one likes what they are bringing
the tea kettle boils without whistling
bobby womack is singing:

“oh how i long for the daylight
because the sunlight makes my burdens light”.