How To Be Decisive

February 8, 2016
krauserpua

“I used to be indecisive. I’m not so sure now”

I was chatting on Facebook to Bodi this afternoon. He’s just wrapped up a trip to South America and is now visiting a friend in Asia. As he’s written about extensively in his suicide note book, Bodi is a chronic procrastinator. Back in London in 2013, before daygaming he’d often lay several t-shirts on his bed trying to decide what to wear and while I waited in the lounge impatiently tapping my foot, he’d be experimenting with more costume changes than a Janet Jackson concert.

So, indecisive.

I’ve always been exasperated by indecisive people. Life is really simple – decide what you want to do and then go do it. Don’t worry about failure. Don’t worry about what people think. Just do it*

That got me thinking about from whence decisiveness comes. It’s a fundamentally masculine trait. We’ve all seen how women just cluck and squeak, chasing their own tails until a man comes along and leads them. Why is that?

Bodi said his 2014/15 testosterone replacement therapy has made a massive difference in his decisiveness, such that he’s ended a dry spell by knobbing six birds in two months. Rather than sit around like a faggot on dates he’s been putting the moves on. Decisiveness.

So at least in part, decisiveness is influenced by your T-level. What else? I find it extremely easy to go out and take decisive action when an activity meets the following criteria:

  1. I really want it
  2. I have a vision of how success looks
  3. I know I have the ability (or at least have a path to develop that ability)
  4. The worst case scenario doesn’t scare me**

Applying that to daygame is pretty obvious. We want to fuck hot girls. We’ve seen on YouTube and Daygame Overkill how effective seduction looks. There are books that explain step-by-step how to develop the ability*** And of course it’s not too tough to mentally prepare yourself to accept the worst-case eye roll blowout. Add all that together and you can hit the streets and take decisive action.

A vision of success, yesterday

A vision of success, yesterday

Of course it’s not quite that simple, but that’s the crux of it. When I started daygame in 2009 we didn’t have anything for 2) and 3). You guys have it easy!

Those of you who also read Danger & Play and Bold & Determined (and if you don’t, you should at least try them) will note how Mike and Victor’s decisiveness shines through in the very language they write. They are also rather productive guys, always working a new hustle. I see many commentors marvel at their workrate.

Is that workrate really so impressive? Not really.

It’s the natural outcome of having nurtured their decisive mindsets. I’ll bet ONE MILLION DOLLARS**** that Mike and Victor don’t actually feel they are working especially hard. Decisive action is energising. You might as well be asking happy kids stomping around the sandpit if they are “working especially hard”.

I’ve had a very productive winter.

I’ve been working on a secret (non-pickup) side project that has consumed hours per day for months. I’ve almost finished writing a new 150,000 word book. I’ve been hitting the gym. I’ve read a book per week. And I’ve still had time to complete several big video games. In each case I didn’t rely on any “hacks” for time efficiency. I didn’t need a “four hour workweek” plan. I didn’t even need willpower. Instead I just figured out what I wanted, formed the vision of how the completed goal looks, and then walked towards it.

School and corporate life conditions you to believe a high workrate is the product of self-discipline, willpower and sacrifice. Only if you’re doing something you hate. If you want it and have the vision, you’ll take decisive action without feeling like it’s work at all.*****

* There’s probably a marketing slogan in that. I might trademark it.
** I should add that I’m so tough that nothing scares me. That bullet point was just for all my pussy readers.
*** Customary Daygame Mastery plug.
**** Of fantasy internet currency

***** Case in point is this blogpost. It took me fifteen minutes from conception to publication. I had unified the four criteria so the words tumbled out. Easy.

Adventure Sex – book excerpt #2

February 4, 2016
krauserpua

Thanks for the feedback so far. Here’s the next part of the same chapter (skipping a couple of paragraphs after the section in my previous post). Again I stress this is a draft, and has not changed since I re-wrote it a month ago.

I arrived in Serbia at the end of the first week of May, four days after Tom and a week before John. The sun shone brilliantly through the windows of the airport minibus and I found myself gazing at the afternoon city skyline, drifting into daydreams. It had been over six months since my last visit.

I alighted at the bus station by the river and dragged my suitcase up the bank towards the Old Town. That end of town – like most Central bus and train stations – is where the crazies congregate. In 2015 it would be a tent town as the fake refugees from “Syria” camped out and talked in Albanian and Turkish accents about all the welfare they’d collect and white women they’d rape when eventually landing in Germany. Back in 2014 it was more gypsy and Kosovan – slightly less menacing but just as squalid and dishonest. Skin tones noticeably lightened as the altitude increased, dragging that suitcase over cobbled backstreets thronged with street hawkers selling leather belts, old books, and other junk from atop milk crates.

The whole time I enjoyed building anticipation. I’d made this uphill climb many times before and knew what awaits at the summit. Once you reach the top you’re in White Town (figuratively speaking). That’s the old affluent area where all the people with good jobs (a rarity in Serbia) go to shop and all the young girls go to promenade. As so often happens in Belgrade, after enduring ten minutes of fat, brown, smelly gypsies with crooked teeth and shifty morals, I was suddenly blown away at meeting the full humans.

It was a sunny spring day and everyone was outside. I wandered wide-eyed by the university buildings. Hordes of hot young girls, all aged eighteen to twenty, milled around with their tight clothes, long legs and thick black hair. It didn’t matter whether they were sitting alone on a bench reading a library book or picnicking with friends on a grassy knoll, they were all broadcasting the same message loud and clear.

“Pick us up Nick! Please charm our knickers off and give us a rogering we’ll never forget.”

My landlord was a chilled university student with rich parents. He stood at the door smiling while I explored the little studio with its modern fittings, walk-in shower and a reasonably comfortable sofa-bed. I plugged my laptop into the flat-screen TV, connected to WiFi and gave him the thumbs up. Unlike Minsk, this apartment was not going to chip away at my vibe every morning. Belgrade is a far nicer place to live, even before you look at the girls.

Within ten minutes I was sitting on a rickety metal chair in Boutique cafe at the main square waiting for Tom to show up. He’d arrived four days earlier and gone straight to business. It had been a tough start for him, absorbing fourteen straight blowouts until the fifteenth girl had been an instant date, a Day 2 the next day around Kalemegdan fortress and then sex on his fourth day in town. He likes Belgrade but finds it a bit difficult compared to Russia, whereas I’m the opposite.

“Lovely vibe here, isn’t it” he enthused, wiping a smudge of green peppercorn sauce from this mouth and then diving back into his beefsteak.

Adventure Sex – Book Excerpt #1

February 2, 2016
krauserpua

This winter I’ve been knuckling down with the business of writing my next book. I left the local cafe this afternoon having just finished chapter twenty-nine, making the total (current) wordcount 144k and my rewrite has gotten up to 121k of that. I teased an excerpt so here it is. Bear in mind this is still a draft.

Chapter Twenty – Greater Serbia

My week in Newcastle was all about relaxation, seeing my family, spending time with my nephews, and playing a few video games. Travelling uproots me because there’s no sense of grounding or stability. There’s a kind of meta-stability in the sense that in every country I visit, I can follow the same routine and there’s a certain familiarity with the method and with it a certain predictability. Nonetheless, I’ve found it whittles me down over time. I returned home to remind myself that I can be a normal person doing normal things, if only for a week before the wolves start howling again.

I’ve found that the transience of Euro-jaunting unmoors the boat and separates me from the local and specific. Think of it this way: as a young boy my entire world was a one-square-mile patch of land around my house. That’s where I ate, drank, schooled, played and explored. I knew every path of that land – which neighbours would chase you if you jumped through their hedges and which wouldn’t, where the stingy nettles were, which trees were easy to climb. We local kids had our own names for the best play areas. For example, my house was built over an old mining railway that had long since fallen into disuse and had the tracks removed. So now there was a long straight trail of several miles leading from the top of the hill down to the river. About a hundred metres down from my house there were two identical tiny railway bridges side by side – which were now pedestrianised – spanning a two-lane road. Weeds, long grass and nettle bushes turned the twenty metres between the bridges into wilderness, a steep high wall marking the drop to the road below, and a council yard full of building materials occupied the other side.

We called this area “the Blue Bridges” and it was great for hide-and-seek and also doing dares, such as walking along the outside of the bridge while the traffic whizzed twenty metres below. It was the last frontier of “our turf” before the next housing estate which we rarely ventured into.

Kids stuff, I know. The point is that as a child my life was intensely local and specific. I was tied logistically and emotionally to a small patch of land and the people therein – blood and soil, if you want to be dramatic about it. Euro-jaunting represents the opposite end of the local-global spectrum. I was now ranging far and wide across entire continents, cherry picking very specific elements as my cocoon to live in. I’d stay in a city a month without seeing much more than a few streets, cafés, bars and clubs. The only people I’d meet were women aged eighteen-to-thirty and at the upper end of beauty.

“Where did you go this time?” my grandmother would ask as we shared tea and biscuits at her nursing home.
“Minsk, Belarus” I’d reply.
“Oooooh! That sounds far away. It is nice?”
“Yeah. It’s the former Soviet Union” I’d continue.
“Oooooh! What’s it like there? Are the people interesting? You must have seen a lot of the world now!” she’d excitedly ask.

And I wouldn’t have an answer for her. In my month in Belarus I’d not seen a single theatre performance, no cinema screening, nor been inside a museum. I couldn’t tell you a single street name except those honouring Bolshevik idols. I’d not spoken to a single local man in a social context. At least John had been to the cinema to watch performing monkeys.

That’s how it is with Euro-jaunting. It made me disassociated from humanity. I’d feel like I was a ghost floating several inches off the ground and never quite touching anything real. It was like Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense. Eventually it messes with my mind.

I might post more of this chapter later. Any thoughts? I suppose this is a little like those open betas video game developers do.

Male Power Complex – The Blue Pill

January 30, 2016
krauserpua

Irony can be quite ironic at times.

I was minding my own business at the seaside market today. I’d gone along to have coffee with my brother and pick up a series of nice retro Agatha Christie book club editions. Sitting myself down in a leather chair by the fire of my favourite pub, I pressed on with light reading. Bliss.

An hour later the coffees had gone right through me. Time for a piss.

English readers will be well aware of the ubiquitous condom machines in every pub toilets. In the past decade they’ve expanded the product range to include breathmints, cock rings, lube and god knows what else. After a traumatic experience as a teenager of such a machine swallowing five of my pound coins one night when I had a girl waiting for me in the bar, I decided to never bestow my patronage upon them again.

But I did chuckle when I saw the latest machine here.

Photo with my own camera, today

Photo with my own camera, today

Let’s just tick off the unintentional ironic humour……

  • A magic pill to increase your sexual prowess. Check.
  • A herbal remedy for the New Age man whose mind is so open his brain has fallen out. Check.
  • Male power is unintentionally pathologised as a “complex” by Feminine Imperative. Check.
  • Machine is fitted to the wall next to a condom machine, so it’s a useless product right next to one that actually does facillitate sex. Check.

I dare say they’ve correctly labelled it as the Ultimate Blue Pill. I’m being facetious of course, reading far too much into it than it deserves. Anyway, it made me chuckle.

My winter writing hibernation

January 28, 2016
krauserpua

Regular readers with a firm grasp of past-present-future will be aware that I haven’t posted here in over two weeks. This after a rash of new posts too. What’s up? Allow me to explain.

The Euro-Jaunt season for me begins in earnest in April – because that’s when the weather becomes agreeable – and then wraps up in October. Usually I want to squeeze a little more juice out of the lemon so I may do a short trip in the month either side of this window. Only masochists travel to the continent over winter. I much prefer hibernation. Every player needs an off-season so you might as well take it during the coldest months.

In 2012 and 2013 I did try to avoid winter entirely by travelling to the southern hemisphere but that proved to be fools gold. The women are a substantial downgrade from Europe, the men are low quality to hang out with, and the countries are – frankly – shit. I tried Brazil, Mexico, Cuba and Thailand. Except for the pre-existing friends I got to travel with, all were shit.

In addition to wishing I was back in Europe with civilised people and slim pretty women, I also noticed I wasn’t benefiting from an off-season to recharge my batteries. So I gave up the Tim Ferris freedom porn dream. Wintering in the southern hemisphere doesn’t suit someone of my tastes. I’ve got friends who love beaches, scuba, hostels and mediocre women – more power to them, but not for me.

There’s another reason I hibernate that is entirely business-related. When I’m in Europe I’m constantly thinking about women. I simply cannot focus on anything else. At a push, I can focus long enough to write a 1,000 word blogpost. But a product? Or a book? No chance.

Hibernation is the time that I’m free of distractions. I can potter about all day like a senile old man on his gardening allotment. That’s the time I catch up on my work and get stuff done. Here’s a typical day for me this winter.

  • 11am – Wake up. Put on my dressing gown then walk downstairs to brew a pot of coffee. Sit in a chair next to the radiator while I check my messages, Facebook, and favourite blogs.
  • Noon – After two cups of coffee, I dress in cheap training gear and walk down to the gym. Including stretching and walking each way, that’s a bit over an hour out the house.
  • 1pm – Microwave a Pot O’Gold pre-prepared rice/chicken meal bought from the gym. Have a shower. Get properly dressed.
  • 2pm – Walk to the Costa Cafe in the hospital grounds near my house. Buy a latte, plug in my laptop and tinker away with any business admin, a new vanity project I’m doing. Maybe troll Twitter for a while.
  • 3pm – Start work on the book I’m writing. After four hours or so I’ll have written another chapter. That’s my target – one chapter a day.
  • 8pm – The cafe closes so I’ll close my laptop (or my paperback novel if I did that instead). Walk home, turn on my gaming PC and then spend the rest of the evening switching between video games, TV, internet and arguing with my mother.

Living the dream!

Hard at work on the quadrilogy, yesterday

Hard at work on the quadrilogy, yesterday

This is all a rather long-winded way to bring you to my main point. The reason I’m not blogging much this month is I’m working on my next book, which is volume four of the memoir*. I dictated all the stories into my audio recorder back in December 2014 while the year’s adventure was still fresh in my mind. A transcriber girl turned that into a 200k-word transcript which I then worked with an editor to reduce down to a 100k first draft that was a publishable manuscript.

Thing is, I wasn’t happy to just have a normal book. I want it to be really good. I’ll only write my memoir once so I want to get it right first time and I’ve found that “becoming a proper writer” is a good little mission for me. So after being completely distracted by 2015’s Euro Jaunt, the manuscript was gathering figurative dust on my figurative book shelf on my laptop hard drive. I figuratively dusted it off in December and started the laborious process of re-writing the manuscript from the beginning.

As of this moment, I’ve completed the rewrite up to chapter 27 of 39*****. It’s looking good. Way better literary quality than Balls Deep. Total wordcount just passed 140k words and I expect the final version to be 150k (is it a coincidence that both Daygame Mastery and Primal Seduction were also 150k words?)***

At a chapter per day, I’ll be finished in two weeks. That’s when my blogging ought to pick up steam again**

488 pages. Fuck.

488 pages. Fuck.

Don’t get too excited about seeing Adventure Sex (working title) any time soon. Finishing the manuscript is simply the big scary milestone. It’s not the end. The next step is to begin instructing all my contractors – line editor, caricature artist, layout designer, cover artist – and having a few friends provide holistic feedback. Then there’s the tedious process of fixing typos and errors, then test prints and ……. oh fucking hell why do I bother for a book that I know won’t make any money?

Vanity is a powerful motivating force.

It’s generally accepted that if you blog three posts per week of original content (i.e. not just the “link & comment” tosh which most guys do) with each post around 1,000 words then you are a very active blogger.

Thus calculated, my book contains the content of a full year’s active blogging. That’s in addition to the actual blog. And the podcasts.

It’s something of a strategic risk to devote so much time to writing a book when I could put that energy into expanding my YouTube channel, or posting up theory pieces on my blog, or doing a new technique manual, or writing posts about Donald Trump, Ronda Rousey, Kanye West or whoever else is the link&comment flavour of the month.

The thing is, I don’t like to focus my energy on ephemeral content. Think how many blog posts you’ve read in the manosphere that are completely forgetable. There is a growing literature in the manosphere / PUA sphere that goes beyond throwaway “How to be alpha” ebooks. I want to write books that stand the test of time.****

The feedback over the years has been that my readers are pretty high-brow. They are smart guys who like to read original content, guys who are resistant to lightweight link pieces or generic “Five ways to….” clickbait lists. My readers don’t flit from flower to flower nor do they have the memory of a goldfish. I figure you guys are happy to just wait for good content and then read it when it’s ready.

So I’m working hard to deliver you 150k words of quality storytelling that is loaded with technical advice. It will use narrative to draw you into a state that allows your mind to absorb the lessons without it feeling like homework.

I’ll post up a book extract in a couple of days to whet your appetite.

* There’ll be another post on why I’ve written the memoir out of sequence

** If you’re craving regular winter daygame content you could do worse that to check out some of the newer player’s journey blogs: City Daygame, The Pursuit Of Women, The Alpha Teacher, TD Daygame, Numbnuts McNumpty – These are all guys I’ve met and who do real, consistent daygame in the LDM style.

*** There’s still a hack on my SigmaWolf website that shows a pop-up trying to get you to click onto spam sites. Don’t click on them! The checkout is still secure, so don’t worry about getting ripped off. I’m working on a fix but it’s a pretty bad infestation.

**** With this in mind, that’s why I was happy to spend five days writing feedback to Tom on his new textbook a week ago.

***** In the four hours since posting this up, I’ve done another 4,288 words to bring it up to chapter 28 and current wordcount of 141,270. Go me!

Scott Adams and his Master Seducer / Persuader series

January 11, 2016
krauserpua

I’ve just started reading Scott Dilbert’s Adams’ blog and in particular his Master Persuader series on Donald Trump (h/t Mike at Danger&Play). Each time I read a post I start transposing words like a find/place bot swapping “Trump” for “the player” and “voter” for “girl”. That in itself was interesting because I’ve found this is a general habit for me. Every time I learn something new my mind tries to find a game lesson in it.

dilbert

But let’s stick with Dilbert Adams. First allow me to quote him at length.

“Have you ever been listening to Donald Trump speaking, or reading one of his quotes, and found yourself laughing out loud?

Maybe you think he has a good sense of humor and he says funny stuff. Maybe you think he is so shocking that you laugh out of social horror. Maybe you love how he pokes your political enemies. If you are not a Trump fan, maybe you think you are laughing at him, or laughing out of disgust, or out of certainty he will be dooming himself this time for sure.

It’s a tell for persuasion. You laugh at Trump because you feel the persuasion, on a subconscious level, and not because anything was especially funny.

When I learned hypnosis, the instructor taught us that subjects often laugh during an induction.”

Laughter is a tell for persuasion. A causeless laugh means you got persuaded to the point where it challenged some long-held truth in your mind. The laugh is an automatic reflex in that situation.”

People often tell me that making girls laugh isn’t seductive: “bro, you’re not a comedian”. If you’re on a nightclub dancefloor grinding a drunk horny girl, I’ll agree. If you’re on a street stop or first date with a girl then I most certainly disagree.

Game is about persuading the girl to sleep with you. That’s the very essence of dealing with Maybe Girls. Note that “persuasion” is not the same as wheedling, begging, imploring or logic-ing. You are attracting a girl’s attention, getting her interested, then persuading her to reach a decision that leads to action. It’s the AIDA model from sales. When you lay a cocky tease on a girl early in the set she laughs. It’s not a ha-ha laugh, it’s more like a “I’m can’t believe you just said that” laugh that crackles with sexual tension. The better your sexual vibe the more she’ll produce illogical giggles and laughs as an exhaust pipe for her growing sexual interest.

The girl is feeling persuasion. She senses her increasing sexual attraction towards you and can’t help laughing to cope with the tension. Look for it. It means you’re winning.

It's not his money that makes him alpha

It’s not his money that makes him alpha

Let’s try another one of Adams’ posts from the series:

“I can’t stop laughing about Trump’s Iowa reframing. You probably heard about it. The setup goes like this:

– Trump was trailing Cruz in Iowa polls.
– Trump taunted an Iowa audience with “You have not picked a lot of winners.”
– The media reported Trump’s taunts.

And the very next poll showed Trump slightly atop Cruz. The trap that Trump set for Iowa is that they can either vote for him – in which case he wins – or they can vote for Cruz and prove he was right about Iowa having a bad track record. Then, say the polls, he will go on to win New Hampshire.

What you think you see is Trump telling people they should vote for him. In the 2D world, he is simply using different language to say what all politicians say. But in the 3D world of persuasion Trump just created a situation in which…wait for it… Iowans are voting on their own intelligence. That’s an identity play. You should recognize it by now as the strongest form of persuasion.

Here’s what does NOT work: “Look at my awesome policies.”
Here’s what DOES work: “Smart people vote this way.”

This is exactly what we do when we’re reframing the girl on the good girl / bad girl spectrum. We are inviting her to position herself as either:

  • The bad girl who has to pretend to be a good girl, but we both know better, nudge wink
  • The good girl who has a bad girl inside her trying to get out

Both positions increase the likelihood of fast sex. This is the “Iowa picking a winner” position. The alternative is for her to be one of those boring good girls just like everyone else – the “Iowa having a bad track record position”. We are making an identity play on her wish to be different from all those other girls.

So we cold read the girl and reframe the adventure sex option. “You look like a kitten on the outside but there’s a tiger inside”. “I get the feeling you are more adventurous than you look”. “Look at that [item of clothing]. You almost convinced me you were a good girl until I noticed that.”

There’s a segment in Daygame Overkill all about how to do this and why. Like Adams says, it’s an identity play. You aren’t convincing her that you’re a logical (i.e. high SMV) alliance to make. You’re persuading her on the basis that she’s a bit special and likes adventure. Then you provide her with a safe outlet to pursue it (you).

“When you hear mentions of Trump as a good front-runner it means – to borrow a phrase from the world of investing – we are on the brink of “capitulation.” That’s the point where everyone just stops resisting the idea of a President Trump and starts adjusting to the reality of it.”

A girl might resist this positioning but if you keep reframing her you’ll often feel that moment of capitulation arrive. She decides she’s gonna do that one crazy thing after all. She’s capitulated to the idea of being in your bed and starts adjusting to the reality of it. YOLO.

Add together the two Dilbert Adams’ concepts and you get why the Daygame Overkill style fractionates between the highly sexual bad boy and the charmingly polite gentleman. We need the smarts to verbally convey the reframing and as the likeability cover for the outrageous pushes and pulls that make her laugh.

The Text Clinic Is In Session

January 7, 2016
krauserpua

A standard tool in the daygamer’s arsenal is the Photo Reply. You’ll be swapping WhatsApp messages and an opportunity presents itself for a solid tingle-inducing retort. Wouldn’t it be nice if you had some go-to photos to drop in those occasions where Google Images isn’t returning the right stuff from your search?

Ok, let’s consider some situations and the correct picture to send. I’ve used all of these pictures over the past month, though some are old favourites rather than new entrants *  Bear in mind each one of these pictures is a separate chat – you’re not supposed to unload them all onto the poor girl.

  1. Seasonal Greetings

You: Merry Christmas!

Her: Merry Christmas! How was your day?

You:

Stripclub santa

You: Hey fancypants :)  I played Santa at a Christmas party today!

Her: Wow! Really???

You:

article-0-16584E05000005DC-313_634x597

2. How’s Your Day?

Her: Good morning!! How are you today?

You: I think I’m ill.

10245317984_e961b52c65_b

You: Eating porridge and drinking cocoa. Living the dream! How are you?

Her: I had a bad day :(

You:

anigif_enhanced-buzz-21528-1406430758-15

3. Irreverent Nonsense

You: I’ve been reading all about dinosaurs today. They are daaaaaaaangerous :O

Her: Haha, what?

You:

polls_profiles_6620Barney20is20a20Perv_2304_120889_3108_777292_answer_1_xlarge

You: I had to go to the hospital today for a brain scan.

Her: Oh no! :/  Is it serious?

You: Yes, the doctors are very worried about my brain. It looks like this….

hqdefault (2)

4. She scolds you

Her: Now I’m angry! You shouldn’t say that.

You: You mad bro?

adorable-angry-kid-girl-sweet

You: Send me a photo

Her: No!

You:

dear-brat-retro1

* I’d give you screencaps of them in use on my Whatsapp but I just can’t be bothered to scroll back through all my chats. This is meant to be a fast post.

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