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First thing she told me about him was that he had weird style. A 2015 hypebeast who got a gig vibe curating for organic grocery stores. That’s what she told me about him. She showed me a picture of him where he had his lips all pursed up like he was trying to show off his jawline— but in a knowing, self-effacing “don’t I look so silly making this handsome pouty face” way. Shortly after she asked me to look at this picture & make fun of him & after I had complied, she told me something interesting.
“He’s got this car. It’s a complete, from scratch model of the car from that lindsay Lohan movie herbie, fully loaded.”
I sat up, cross legged
”not just the chassis, not just the engine, the whole thing. He found concept art & behind the scenes schematics of herbie. He tracked down each part & made absolute sure to get them as authentically as possible. He didn’t include anything unfaithful to the original vision. He mentioned something about being unable to be unfaithful to it. That working on ’Him’, he kept calling the car ‘Him’, that this was his way of discovering what faith meant.”
This confused me, so i asked my friend to keep explaining.
“It’s like— here’s the way he put it. It’s like this, you can get a ready made replica of just about any famous car you could dream of jsut by knowing the right people. But a replica is not “Him”. He told me that he had no interest in driving something sold to him with ‘authenticity’, it’s ‘faithfulness’ being a POINT OF SALE.”
I was intrigued, so I asked her point blank what she thought he got out of the whole thing. She gazed up at the ceiling for a while, I think looking at the same daddylonglegs that I was looking at earlier. The one with the big orb of eggs attached to its thorax. an orb that would burst & bring forth 10 million babydaddylonglegs into my home. After a few moments of spidergazing, she told me this, this is what she told me. Like the words were being sucked from her mouth.
”I don’t know. It might be some weird type of prayer, like he’s building himself an idol or a god or a friend or a father or a lover. He told me that when he’s inside ‘Him’, he feels in control. He feels safe. Powerful. His hands are on the wheel & Herbie responds perfectly to everything he does. There’s no resistance, like Herbie is an extension of his own flesh almost. He insists that he can hear Herbie whisper words of encouragement to him. There was something vaguely sexual about it all. It’s weird Jake, but I couldn’t tell if he was gonna laugh or cry or kiss me. And I wanted him. Badly. It was the most honest a man had ever been with me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
I asked her if she planned on seeing him again.
“I don’t know. Maybe. You know I don’t have a car. Thing is that he lives far away & the drive is kind of a bitch.”
Dec 16, 2024
Related Recs
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I’m at the workshop of some guy to get a jacket chain stitched. The workshop is in a building behind a house in Chicago. If you’ve been around here, you know what I’m talking about. The artist is this British dude that has very wild energy. Kind of reminds me of that dude from Idles, but smaller. Looks like he doesn’t shower.
So I brought him a jacket and he completely disassembled it. I start freaking out because I remember that I already have a deal with a different artist (I am actually working with IRL). At one point his mom is there and he kicks us out? So I’m just chilling in the backyard with his mom while she’s on a swing and I’m sitting at one of the many lined up picnic tables.
When he was done it was an incredibly beautiful and creative jacket, far beyond what I had asked. I realize that I was still getting my husband jacket made by the other artist, but this jacket was for me. I hadn’t even paid. I was worried about paying for another jacket. I was confused why he made something so intricate. Did this guy love me? Did I love him? I sat on him and kissed him. He tasted like cigarettes. I started leaving and he asked if I wanted to make babies and I said I already had some.
Jul 16, 2024
Backstory: Im crushing so hard on a tattoo artist near my job and am delusionally convinced she’s my soulmate. We coincidentally have matching tattoos of the cover art for faces by mac miller high on the thigh. (for full story go look at my asks)
Update: aight… went to the tattoo shop’s 8th anniversary event just to kinda be present and participate in the art community in Puerto Rico bc I’m having trouble finding ppl I relate too and I think I can make friends w them. Didn’t rly get to chat with her much, she was being a little distant and I wasn’t going to corner her or anything. I ended up getting some flash that was super cool. after my tat was finished late that night I went for a walk to shake off the nerves of the pain n shit. Ended up getting a strange feeling to buy a bunch of ice creams for everyone in the tattoo shop party so I walked far as hell and bought like 20-30 ice creams from a 24hr bodega and came back to pass them out to everyone for free. Boom. wonderful success and made so many ppl smile. Now the shop owner n community know me and recognize my chill.
Additionally: I could not get this girl out of my head. Like I never rly date and I fr don’t like talking to girls. Im rly hyper-isolated but it’s my own doing. But she Was driving me crazy. I ended up buying her the Book of Mac memoir and planned to give it to her as a gift/tip at our booked tattoo session. I had a feeling that she’d rly like it. But that wasn’t enough. I became manic and over the course of three sessions I made her a mac miller mix. Ive attached it for u all to listen. This might’ve been overkill and I was second guessing it the whole time but I did it anyway because I’m not a pussy.
Finally: get to the tat session and was greeted with a kiss on the cheek (polite and customary for Puerto Ricans but she was rly friendly about it and she initiated). When she finished setting up our station I sit down and pull out the book. Inside the book I had written to: (her name) from: (me) and a short quote from BMO (adventure time) because it kinda just felt right. tell her hey I got this for you, I think I have a crush on you idk, but yeah this is for you. Bruh… she melted. She was like soooooooooooo happy. She had a mask on cuz she was sick but she said underneath she was blushing super hard.
we start the tattoo and I ask if I can just talk to her while she does it. I’m rly shy and not the best at convo but throughout the entire tattoo I just picked her brain to try and get to know her. Bruh… we r so alike. Like mind blowingly alike. Talked about music and movies and clothes. But she was kinda dry and quick w her chatting. It took a while for her to warm up a bit and relax. Plus I’m funny so she was giggling after every other thing I said. Teased her a bit. Flirted a bit. But nothing too heavy. By the end of the tattoo session we were on aux together going back and forth w songs talking about why we like them n stuff. Like at this point I can tell we’re friends. Finally the tat is finished and it’s great. She’s an apprentice and not super experienced but it was exactly what I wanted. As we were saying our goodbyes she thanks me again for the book. I told her I had one more thing to give her but she had to give me her number first… she freaks out a little bit. I say no pressure obviously, but she’s like “yes pressure“ I’m like what?? She gives me her number and gives me a super quick and tight hug. Idk how to describe it but it was like a shy, fast “I need to hug you before anyone sees” hug. as I’m walking out the shop I text her the link to the mix n head home.
I get home, she texts saying thanks for the mix that it’s rly cool and thanks again for the book. and then…. She tells me she’s dating someone 🥴 and didn’t know how to tell me in person and froze when I asked for her number n if its alright if we’re just friends. I ate that punch, said hey no prob we can be friends, which is totally fine like I fr don’t mind, but the thing is I KNOW MY WHOLE SCHEME WORKED. Like the way she was reacting to me and how comfortable she got and how cool our convo was like I know she recognized how cool I was. And she told me I was rly cool like she texted saying she thinks im cool. So like… fuck. Idk. and She didn’t even say she has a boyfriend, she just said she’s dating someone so it doesn’t even sound serious. Idk what to do. She didn’t respond to my last text. so this is where we stand. I think I fucked her world up tho. No way she’s not thinking about me now.
What do yall think?
Jul 19, 2024
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My friends and I were bored last night so we looked for things to do in our town because there's usually nothing. On Google maps we find a place that was a "boarding school for witches, ghouls, and monsters" so of course we get in the car and pull up.
Once there it is obviously a witches house. An old 1800s building with glowing pumpkins out front. Red lanterns illuminating the windows and so many random things in the backyard including a circus tent. This had to be a witches house. So we approach and knock on the door. We are pretty certain it's just someone's house but it's a Tuesday night at 7pm what's the worst that could happen.
We wait for a moment until we see a light turn on and a disheveled man in his pajamas, a big orange beard and a trucker hat opens the door and says "hello?" Looking at us quizzically. I say "hello is this ****** - boarding school for witches, ghouls and monsters? We found it on Google maps and are curious." He chuckles a little and says "let me explain. Come inside." We enter a dimly lit living room decorated with antiques and ominous knick knacks. Dozens of candles hung from the ceiling and he takes a seat on a large throne in the corner. We sit on plush antique couches as he begins to tell us about his passion project.
It turns out his whole entire home was basically an art installation and a manifesting of his life into a fantasy world story. He has lived in his artwork for atleast the last 14 years since he moved into the home and you can tell he cares about it deeply. He tells us how it's morphed and changed for years as he's lived and grown. He wants to make a TV show or a movie and that's what all of this has been for. He's done many things like haunted houses, mercantiles, fantasy experiences, but as of recently he got married 6 months ago and has 7 step children now. His art project has morphed and become more functional. Where he used to live in his characters bedroom he now lives in his own with his wife who is a costume designer. They work together to bring his story to life.
He gave us a tour of every room in his home. Each eclectically decorated with antiques and knickknacks his dedication has attracted him. One was an original glass domed framed photograph of a women's father from the early 1900s gifted to him. And strewn about the home was hundreds of dolls and doll parts. He has acquired these from a random phone call from a man he has never talked to, but he offered him $30,000 worth of antique turn of the century dolls and doll parts. This man just attracts the most amazing things.
His laundry room was half decorated as a wizards mercantile expertly hand crafted shelves and signage marked hand crafted wands, brooms, wood jewelry and so much more. He told us the story of how down in southern Utah he discovered a tri split winding tree alone in the middle of the desert. He harvested this ancient tree and turned it into 3 sister brooms all gorgeously crafted.
We talked with him for an hour and a half and we learned about his TV show he wants to start shooting this year. And about his dreams for what he wants to do with it. We gave him tips on social media and short form content to share his passion and we learned much about each other. We met a very interesting man yesterday.
Mar 5, 2025
Top Recs from @steelyfan1998
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sometimes you just need to read some real shit straight from the realest person you know .
Feb 24, 2025
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I've been Hitlering myself, Stalining myself, Musollining myself, Maoing myself for the past 7 months. I do this because I am a coward, and totalitarian regimes are conducted by and inflicted upon cowards. Something interesting about me is that I am 5'10.225" in the morning. As the day goes on, my spine compresses and I am shorter by about a quarter inch to a half inch come evening. I generally refuse to acknowledge to myself that at midnight I'm 5'9" because, as stated above, I am a coward, and a vain one. This past September I weighed in at 210 lbs, putting me undoubtedly in the "overweight" segment of the population and just on the border of mildly obese. That's funny to me, that last summer I could have been 5'9" and obese or 5'10" and just bog standard overweight-american depending on the time of day, really. But you have to understand that if I were not a coward, this would not matter. The non-cowards among us, the brave and the beautiful, they pay no mind to these things, they can drink milk without spoiling it.
I am no longer as overweight or obese as I once was. The last time I weighed myself, I was at 187.8 lbs., meaning that I've lost somewhere in the neighborhood of 25-30 lbs of fat when you factor in muscle gains. I still have a long way to go, of course. But I have been lifting weights and counting calories and yes, this has unsurprisingly made my life less unbearable. But I'm still a coward. You can't lift away cowardice, cowardice is not something to be shaved off by a caloric deficit. I operate under the delusion that if I can reach a certain set of numbers it will be mathematically impossible for me to be a coward. Lately, I’ve been coming around to the conclusion that my cowardice is parabolic— diminishing itself quietly into infinity but fundamentally unable to arrive at y=(0).
Yeah I lift brah. You must understand that I do not lift to feel strong, but to make external my constant, gnawing, smothering internal weakness. I used to hope that I could draw it out and smash it away beneath the barbell. I'm beginning to understand that my condition is chronic-- it's cellular, in my cytoplasm. When the muscle fibers tear, it is the cowardice that rips itself apart, and when the muscle fibers rebuild themselves it is the cowardice that comes back all the more potent; I foam roll at my cowardice in hopes that my lower back will be less tight, my hips more mobile, the fear made flesh less aching and sore. But really it just looks like I’m having awkward missionary sex with an imaginary partner alone in my living room.
What is it that I’m so afraid of? Why am I saying all this? I don't know. There's a girl who I want to talk to and every time she texts me I feel sick. I apologize for how mundane the answer is, really I do. But every time I try to communicate with her I feel like I've said the exact wrong combination of words. She texted me happy birthday today and I somehow found a way to say the wrong thing. She thinks I’m funny, she likes to talk to me, and every time I make her laugh and I hear her laugh I'm reminded of the insect I truly am. Only a coward feels this way when he's around a beautiful woman. No other explanation. Every single woman I’ve ever loved has terrified me.
4d ago
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This is a confession post, not a recommendation, not even much of an anti-recommendation. Tbh it reads like a humilation ritual. Honestly just keep scrolling; it's not worth reading. I'm just posting it because I think I had a point when I first started writing this, one which I lost pretty wuickly. But I spent a good couple of minutes typing this all out, so I'll post it anyway. Thank God I'm anon. If you do read it, please forgive me.
My friend Tyler brought a joint to the super bowl party last night. He handed it to me & told me about how it had weed diamonds in it while I smoked, he told me that it was some good shit and that I wouldn't have to smoke so much of it since I've got such a low tolerance & all, but I could also smoke as much as I liked, seeing as he had a bunch more & that it was the super bowl & we had a bunch of wings on the way anyway, so might as well smoke some more weed so you know what? yeah, i smoked some more weed since what's the harm anyway it's just weed after all.
I've been a mess all day. I've been slow & stupid & disgustingly horny since I woke up this morning; but really honestly since I smoked the weed. If you're one of those types that "actually becomes more functional when you're smoking weed" & that I should "just let people enjoy things" I don't know what to say to you. I'm going to be weird for 4 weeks now and it's all my fault. This happens every time.
Even when it doesn't turn me into a non-verbal paranoiac nutcase, even when it's enjoyable to me in that moment-- I become something lower than a beast. I stand over the platter of chicken wings & gorge until I am sick and then I gorge even more. My stomach becomes distended & my face and fingers are covered in thai curry buffalo chicken fat goo. I waddle around & fart & I find this very funny. I confuse the sound of my own voice with that of my younger sisters & this is incredibly disqueting to me. Do I really sound like that? I become a big confused overgrown fat baby.
I'm going to be be weird for four weeks now. Slow. I was supposed to meet up with my friends to watch Luka's debut for the Lakers. I'm stitting at my desk typing this up; procrastinating going to the gym (which I can NOT neglect [especially after my evening of spiritual obesity]) & the game starts in 5 minutes. Stupid. Typing out this confession right now is painfully difficult. Every word that I type has the appearance of a whitehead that can't be popped to me. This textbox full of blemishes so infuriatingly, stubbornly, immutably DISGUSTING. I feel sick just reading back what I'm writing here. Once again, if you've made it this far, forgive me. This is a confession, not a recommendation. Disgustingly horny. This one I won't elaborate on. Forgive me.
It's not because I smoked weed. The smoking of the weed was just the first movement in a sequence that had already begun before I'd even accepted the joint from Tyler. My own spiritual weakness is the mantle upon which all of these failings hang. I'm not this way because I smoked weed, I'm this way because I'm the type of guy that smokes weed even though I know what it will do to me. There are 999,999,999 other weeds in my life that I am all too willing to permit myself. I haven't eaten anything but bread & butter all day. The lakers game is starting soon. Off to the gym I go.
Feb 11, 2025