Fuck The World Log

[EggMcMuffin]

I will probably delete this. I don't know. I won't even post on this on a regularly basis. There is a part of me deeply uncomfortable with leaving any kind of trace of my existence anywhere on this planet let alone the internet, but....

sometimes, it's nice to fart out words onto the paper. I've done this more than a few times on different forums to varying degrees of success. I don't feel that anything I write or say has any value, so a lot of this "log" will involve long winded rants about things that go through my head while lifting. Usually someone will throw things at me from the crowd, which is nice.

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Tuesday is the start of the lifting week. Worked from 2 - 10, got in a shitload of trouble for literally not giving a fuck. Got written up, got made to look like an irresponsible idiot. Perhaps thats true. Got home, laid on armchair like vegetable, feeling deeply alienated from my labor. There is no alternative nor is there a "society" (supposedly we live in one?) so I got my ass up at like 3:30AM right before bedtime and decided instead of staring into the void and thinking about my failings and decided to do some deadlifts.

Normal I squat on Tuesday but I'm still out here gangbanging and not giving a fuck and I really have just felt....drained lately so I have been flipping my workouts around to whatever slot of the week I feel like. I just have been doing deadlifts because I don't feel particularly motivated to squat, and they also make cry Scott Hambrick style.

Did a set at 305, died. It was the first heavy double of the week. I'm a feeble keebler nerd who has the grip strength of....a feeble keebler elf. Visions of my day flashed through my mind. Being brought into the office, told to sign here and here to be thrown into the pit of hellfire for the offense of listening to audiobooks while stocking bottled water and chips despite this literally not interfering with my duties in any way. Enormous 6'3 manager clopping along in his executioners hood. Grabs me by the hand and I proclaim: "YOU'RE NOT TAKING ME TO THE SANITORIUM!!!!!".

I plop down on the floor of my parents garage and try to read a book about the GDR and how it was ostensibly pretty cool. Two minute rest, ring ring ring. For whom does the bell toll?

”West Germany’s second Chancellor Ludwig Erhard, the man credited with the country’s post-war ‘economic miracle’ and dubbed the ‘father of the social market economy’ had previously occupied a leading position in the Nazi Reichsgruppe Industrie and the Institute for Industrial Research financed by the chemical conglomerate IG Farben that supplied Zyklon-B for the gas chambers....."

I clop up to the bar. Clop clop clop. The bell tolls for me. Only a few decades left. Visions of my libertarian supervisor ring ring ring through my head and I see his tits jiggle jiggle jiggle on his big lame frame as he angrily mutters about how spics are subhuman under his breath when I pushback on his arbitrary powers trips. The brownest white man I ever saw, that's for sure. Half - "Mexican", as they say. Many such cases of overwhelming self hatred. One clop to the left and my stance duckfoots, and I pull with the force of a fragile agile horse.

"Thahut wuz better, thahut wuz better", I tell myself.

The rest of the sets are uneventful. I feel ashamed for being only able to deadlift 305 for a double at 6 sets at an RPE of about 6 or 7. I think I could have done another two sets before hitting reps in reserve, but the strawberry reserves that be my brains said no. It's 4AM. Time to go to sleep. I think about my day again. So many experiences of what I refer to as "dislocation" or, the feeling that I can only do wrong because my conception of what life should be is entirely at odds with reality. I think the Finns have a concept in their culture known as "The Harshness of Reality". I feel that.

Think about your big strong boss telling you what to do. I don't want to do it, so I'm not gonna.

"Scream at me again, if you like?
Throw your hate at me, with all your might
Hit me 'cause I'm strange, hit me
Tell me I'm a pussy and you're harder than me"

I'm irresponsible. It's all an overreaction anyway, I've accepted the L's. I do things I'm not supposed to, because I don't wanna. That's the price I pay. Tomorrow is another day. I will bench then.

[Wilhelm]

Welcome, brother!

Thank you for adding your log. \o/


So all the "progress' i pursue, is arbitray in the face of mortality.

But it's a dance that i value.
It fills my present.
Keeps me a lot more in the now than i've usually been in my life.

[broseph]

I used to feel embarrassed about liking Korn so much because their angsty lyrics are so ‘on the nose.’ But he was always saying exactly the things I felt and (kinda) went through so who cares about metaphors and mystery.

My online log entries are pretty short, but I still get more out of the “dear diary” aspect than the actual numbers recorded. The paper log is pure numbers. It’s pretty easy to convince myself at least one person will read any given musing, and that has a strong effect on the satisfaction and content of the writing.

You can pretend I’m reading any time.

[dw]

So...Texas Method?

[mgil]

I read logs while touching my log.

[Renascent]

Fucking finally!

[BenM]

Silently lurking.

[OrderInChaos]

I used to feel embarrassed about liking Korn so much because their angsty lyrics are so ‘on the nose.’ But he was always saying exactly the things I felt and (kinda) went through so who cares about metaphors and mystery.

Same for Hatebreed here, and same for lurking, pretend reading, actual reading and shit!

[augeleven]

the offense of listening to audiobooks while stocking bottled water and chips

You monster! How are the chips gonna be tasty if you’re not emotionally connecting with them as you put them on the shelf. You abandoned them in their final moments of life, right before they are taken to some seedy apartment and ritualistically masticated while being forced to watch network TV?
Have a heart, sir.


I used to sing solfege exercises for the four hours it took me to put away half a trucks worth of diary product in the Trader Joe’s walk-in fridge.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down, and all that.

[ChrisMcCarthy1979]

Silently lurking.

Lurking silently...

[EggMcMuffin]

I really need to stop training/sleeping at ungodly hours. Writing this at 5:20AM, started training at 4AM. Managed to do almost fuck all in that time.

I'm in the last weeks of A2S and I have kindly just gone off the rails. I didn't train yesterday because I woke up at a fairly early time (11:25AM lmao) and just felt this cloud of despair like I've not felt since I was a teenager most of the day. Spent most of the day running dumb errands and feeling well, depressed. Was supposed to make that up today but I kinda just veg out after work instead of training. I don't know why that is. Work (especially when it's incredibly underpaid work) under capitalism is inherently alienating and all that but it shouldn't make me just want to rot away in my free time. I feel bad for being an anticapitalist due to 1) I will likely be thrown out of a helicopter for my beliefs by the future American Junta For National Salvation within my lifetime and 2) almost all weightlifters are libertarian or some strain of right wing nutter like Scott and his Hambricks. Reading all that shit just made me sad, so I'm probably going to lock myself in a closet and not come out again. Having a critical stance towards the way our society is organized at the most fundamental level is virtually inseparable from a mental disorder, so it's probably for the best.

I did 190 for 6x2 yesterday. I think I said I didn't train but that was a lie. It felt ok. I miss being able to bench that for 3x5 after a heavy single, but I'm also 172lbs now as opposed to 187ish from before everything went to absolute shit a little over a year ago. I feel pretty insecure about how weak I am now. I'm generally a very weak, insecure person almost always ready to immediately give up when faced with adversity, but I genuinely felt really good with the numbers I had last March. I hate having been spinning my wheels so long but hopefully after I drop to 165 I can do a long slow bulk and get more slow than I did when I first did that.

Today, I did CBP for 6x4 at 172.5. Feeling light, a bodyweight bench at that rep scheme isn't awful but I still feel lame. It's whatever. I wanted to deadlift too but I got distracted cleaning my fucked up garage. I hate how messy this place gets, I was working on my SHITTY Miata that I bought from a heroin addict for waaaay too much money given the condition and mileage but I had to buy a quarter life crisis car somehow.

It's only when I clean and organize that I realize how deeply unhealthy living with my parents and immediate family is. There's just a complete apathy towards anything in this house, and there's a long list of reasons as to why that is but I really think I should get the fuck away from this place for even a little bit. Making money is impossible and everything is so expensive that even with a proper job I'm fucked unless I want to move somewhere where people tell me to Go Back™. I kinda want to try to get into UC Santa Cruz so I can live among the Redwoods but my grades are fucking trash.

Only benching matters.

[EggMcMuffin]

Training has continued to disintegrate. Ate way too much food yesterday and was laid out the majority of the night after work (I've really been off the rails in every department) so no training yestarday. By tomorrow I'll have managed to do most of my lifting for the week, having skipped squats for two weeks in a row now. Who gives a fuck?




I need to get back into some consistent schedule. This program is sooooo long, 21 fucking weeks, it's not even hard (it's actually really easy compared to Andy Bakers stuff) but I'm kinda just sick of doing the same typa shit every week. I have to wonder if getting out of the house would help, the Oly WL gym near me is a keycard access but for $100 a month....I miss the gym environment. As you can see from my vid I live in a dump with a bunch of insane people, which really cramps my vibe. I remember at the gym (RIP Oasis Fatness 2015-2020) I could really get into the zone, it felt like it didn't have nearly 12 years of mala vibra stuck inside of it.

When I train at home I just think about how fucked up and disappointing my life has been so far. Of course I would do this at Oasis too, but there it felt more constructive as I was more removed from it. So many arguments, pointless bickering and all encompassing scenes of mediocre suburban hidden poverty deprivation and frustration. Dad passed out in the hallway, sister hungover in her room after disappearing all month, brother sleeping on the couch, etc.

I've been feeling like blowing my brains out for the past month, but not in a serious way like when I was teenager but just as like, a sense of cloying frustration so I do think I would rather use that $100 a month on the boxing gym nearby. I texted the guy and he told me to swing on by but they fucked with my schedule at work and I have like no money and I get paid so little ($800~ every two weeks is fucking ridiculous lol, you would need to work three jobs to survive on this in the Bay. Say hello to 5 roommates until you fucking die at 60 from a wholly treatable and preventable condition brought on by working two jobs). I'm paying to fix my fucked up teeth so my wallet gets raped every month now....

I want to box though. I'm pretty lonely as I got my ass beat by untreated and undiagnosed depression for the formative social years of my life so being around other people is a plus, even if it only reminds me of my failings.



(I may PR my deadlift, iirc pulling this many sets of this many weight for this many deficit was what me are be doing when I was 20lbs heavier, so maybe I can touch 425 soon?)

[Renascent]

I apologize if this question seems intrusive (or weird), but is your garage considered a communal space in your household?

Would anyone in the family object if you painted it (marked it, so to speak, as your own space)?

[EggMcMuffin]

I didn't train today because I don't give a fuck, but yesterday when I gave marginally more fucks I decided to bench and managed to hit 6 singles at 205 and then did a 7th set which was a DOUBLE. I was pretty juiced. I'm around 174-177 now so there might be a bench PR in the pipeline, even if it's just a 225 bench but at a lighter body weight.

Have a lot on my mind lately and have been in a weird place for the last year. Hopefully I can close out this cycle and just take a week to officially chill the FUCK out and try to set myself up for another run that manages to stay on course the whole way through.

At the present moment I'm thinking about the weird junkie I knew in highschool who was my "friend", and the one time we were at lunch when we had found a Mac in a random classroom and just started looking at stupid shit on the internet. She was a tiny bit high off the Vicodin she kept in a little Altoids can in her backpack and was just laughing hysterically in that weird, husky laugh she had from smoking too many cigarettes. I laughed with her.

It's weird how often this person pops into my head. I think I have this, or at least had the habit of myth making but with people, places and things where I just turned this otherwise really shitty and dysfunctional human being who I had a massive crush on into some kind of figure greater than what they actually were because of what they represented to me: someone who felt the same way I did about how shitty, pointless and fucked up everything is.

In some ways I've outgrown that but I sort of miss that raw feeling of being young and unsatisfied. People say 25 is still young, but I remember sitting there with my friend at 17 and thinking that maybe we both wouldn't be so depressed some day and even if we were going to be, maybe that was okay. I guess now I realize the years are stacking up and the realm of possibilities shrink everyday, and I don't really have someone in my life who at the very least made me feel something, and not in a romantic sense. I kind of miss just feeling enthused by people. People all seem dull now, but I also never talk to anyone.

I like to think Mark Fisher was right about social life being dead under capitalism, but I'm also probably just a fucking loser.

I apologize if this question seems intrusive (or weird), but is your garage considered a communal space in your household?

Would anyone in the family object if you painted it (marked it, so to speak, as your own space)?

I pissed on the floor to mark my territory, but that's about it.
The garage was filled with everything we've ever owned ever for a long time since my mom has a hoarding problem (like, diagnosably) so since it was basically useless as a result of that no one used it but I threw literally all that bullshit in the fucking garbage reorganized it so there is actual useable space. I've kinda taken it over for myself, it just has a bunch of car tools, lifting stuff and a little drum corner

[dw]

I was pretty juiced.

[Renascent]

There was a lot more I wanted to say about your entry, but I'd probably end up all over the place.

For what it's worth, I definitely don't think you're crazy, off the mark, or any of the pejoratives you've assigned to yourself on occasion. A lot of your thoughts strike a familiar chord.

Wish I had more to offer beyond that. But yeah, I don't think you're alone in your way of seeing the world as it is.

[EggMcMuffin]

Pretty miserable session today. Woke up super early (for me) at 10AM to pay someone to teach me how to merge on to the fuckin' freeway (I've been driving for 3 years and didn't know how) and then got my fucked up teeth adjusted at the Teeth Monger who is probably buying his 3rd house with the $5000+ I owe him (cool) and did some running at the local man made nature area. Stared at the lake for a bit and thought about death and impermanence as I do seemingly everyday in light of increasingly normalized mass death.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eternal_oblivion

I don't think anyone has a particularly good go of it, at least if they have some critical faculties, given that we all eventually die. In my current mood, I don't find it too bad. Life seems to be game of suffering so much that (at least from the atheistic materialist dogma of today) your eventual complete annihilation no longer seems all that terrifying. Maybe it's like putting down a big, heavy backpack at the end of a long day. Not that frightening, at least when as you get older more shit gets heaped into that backpack (if you're like me, most of it smells like SHIT). I will lay my burden down.

I got a lot of shit to work through. Feeling pretty disappointed in my bench performance, I was supposed to do pyramid singles but I did the first one at 205, 2nd at 215, 220 fail, 215 fail, 205, 205, and I think another 205 because I was mad thinking about my garbage older brother. "Tell me I'm a pussy and you're harder than me...". I expected to hit at least 220 once, but I literally haven't gotten any stronger in the whole last two years of lifting. I knew gains would slow down after novice phase but man it's like after LP you kinda just lift to fucking do it and whenever anyone asks why you spend so much time lifting but still look like absolute shit and are weaker than the average 14 year old football player you just gotta make shit up.

"I'm out of SARMS...."

What else are you out of cocksucker? And then the customer throws a box at me while I lay on the floor fixing the eggs. This actually happened to me, and I remember (I didn't actually think this but pretend I did) thinking that I should have told them to Read The Boohoock™.

I committed a crime, which is...being born broke, brown and brutish.

I am an evil nigger.

[EggMcMuffin]

Did some deadlifting today. Went off the rails completely at this point but whatever, test new maxes after this next deload week.

Pulled heavy singles. Hit 315, 335, 355 and a fairly heavy 370. I seem to be getting weaker, or maybe I'm just tired. I have been having troubled sleep lately, I keep realizing how much my life fucking sucks and how not better it's ever going to get and how the various traumas I've endured in my life basically ensure that my experience of the next few decades before I return to nothingness forever is just going to be unending dread and anhedonic malaise. Spent the majority of the day at work actively avoiding doong anything but still felt exhausted by the end, so I think the 370 was maybe a little less than what I can do. Either way, I'm 175ish now so that's still slightly over 2x BW pull which is pretty good if you're a female middle school gymnast but just okay if you're a 25 year old Idiot who cooked his brain with shitty music.

Curling everyday seems to be working, which is nice. Definitely have stronger "arms", but they seem to be looking bigger too.

I got a bonsai.

I will miss you forever.

[EggMcMuffin]

I had something particular inspired to weave into this stupid post floating around in my head earlier today but I seem to have lost that particular spark.

I like to write when I am miserable, and I have never known anything except misery and will probably continue to do so but it more or less seems these days like I have no ideas, no dynamism. It seems like I have exhausted all possibilties. I remember as a kid realizing finally that I would never fly, that I would never be a Mighty Morphin Power Ranger nor would I ever deadlift more than 315 with a back rounder than....round things and that just seemed so depressed to me. I remember thinking the little flue above my first grade classroom was a martian peering back at me:

"...And yet, there is no question that Joe Simonton believes that he saw the flying saucer, the nameless grill, the three men. He gave them pure water; they gave him three pancakes. If we reflect on this very simple event, as the students of folklore have reflected on the stories quoted above, we cannot overlook one possibility, that the event at Eagle River did happen, and that it has the meaning of a simple, yet grandiose, ceremony."

And so they did eat. There is very little new under the sun these days. It seems we've run out of all of that, and I don't have much to give.

I'm just a guy. Like, I like to say that as a joke no one gets but as I get older I'm just a guy. The liberal notion that we could all be some sort of superman if we just make the right choices is all a fucking lie, it's a con job. I'm not going to pull 225lbs anytime soon, I'm portly, and I don't smell good. I got the Miata, put the cool esoteric mods on it that no one does like illuminated rear marker lights? Some other guy did it better. He studied? What the the fuck have I read in the last year? Entertain notions of alchoholism? Wish that I had some talents beyond being A Guy?

"......It is not that he cannot see into the roots of his difficulties, indeed he has developed an intelligent and highly articulate critique of the world he finds himself in. The trouble is, he doesn't believe in his right to make such a critique and is sourly contemptuous of his own motives in doing so, which he sees as founded solely on weakness. He hangs on to the idea that he is ‘ill’ as the main bulwark between him and suicide.
James was as a child ushered into a world he was not ‘bred’ for, without ever being taught by his parents to believe in himself. They believed only in the world they wanted him to come to inhabit, and it never occurred to them that if he was to gain the confidence to enter it, they would have to believe in him. It was certainly not that they didn't love him, and they still do, though they are pained and mystified by the ‘illness’ which stops him profiting from all the advantages they themselves never enjoyed. And he loves them, even though the world he is now displaced into is one beyond their ken and he and they have little to say to each other."

And it's been a common theme in my schizoaffective droning ons about easily solved problems I am unwilling to do anything about since it is instrumentally rational for me to be miserable (as all rational, self interested people choose to be miserable since being miserable is very good and preferable to not being miserable), but I feel overwhelmed by it all. Where do I fit in? Why is everyone in the city of Oakland taller than me? Why do people in Tempe Arizona spit on me (The 400 Blows? The 400 Spits?) when I go yonder?

I'm coming up on the 2nd mile. In my head I think this is the 3rd, but I haven't run in ages. It will be dark soon. It will be time to die soon.. Mosquitos and gnats weave themselves into me.





I'm just a guy. What am I going to do about? Not Train?


The uncertainty never ends. I get into my car thinking I'd run four miles.


The map only says three.

[mouse]

Curling everyday seems to be working, which is nice. Definitely have stronger "arms", but they seem to be looking bigger too.

More triceps my dude.