Men's Intuition

Men’s Intuition. Is that an oxymoron like government intelligence? Trumpcare?


Once upon a time, I had been a life coach to kids. There were two basic tenets that I followed. One: Listen to them. Whatever they told me, no matter how ridiculous, I would hear them out. The reason was simple. I don't have the ability to read minds. To help them deal with whatever they had been going through, I depended on them to tell me. And because I didn't judge them for what they had told me, they felt free to tell me anything without fear of repercussions.

Two: I used my intuition to try and read in between the lines. Be it through their word choice, body language, and what their parents had communicated to me.

Women have always been the ones credited with having intuition. Studies have shown that to be true. But I think the reasons as to why women can read people better than men is because they were allowed to feel and express their emotions, where men were taught/scolded to hide them.


Hence, our communication problems between the sexes.

In saying that, all humans have the ability to read each other. Some are better than others, but still.

I went to a party and met this beautiful woman. I was my charming self, of course, which usually meant that people run for the hills because I'm pretty direct. Self-censoring has been an issue. Not for me. For other people. Because I don't censor much. She and I traded numbers. We went out to dinner. Once. Afterward I knew I didn't want to date her. Friends asked me how my interest had fallen so quickly. I didn't know why. Initially, I thought it was because I was afraid to start something up, having just broken off a relationship. I did try to come up with reasons, but they all sounded false to me. She and I hung out. Became friends. And it was through our time together that I figured out why I hadn't pursued anything further than just a friendship.


Listing out those reasons aren't important here. What's important was that my intuition, this silent voice within me, had pretty much killed my hard on for this woman. I could have taken the blue pill to liven my serpent, but that was not the issue. There had been no issue. And my fear that I didn't want to start anything up so soon after a breakup sounded reasonable, but that wasn't the truth either.

Often times when I'm at the gym, I want to talk to a girl. Sometimes I hesitate, which pisses me off. Women want men to approach them. So when I don't, I feel like a wimp. So I thank my intuition when I see their boyfriend come up and give them a hug or a kiss. Now, I'm not saying that every time I hesitate, the girl has a boyfriend or would be bad for me. But we as humans, especially in a world where intuition isn't relied upon as much, need to trust and cultivate it.

We probably act against this innate wisdom more often than not. The question is how do we know the difference between that truth versus our irrational fear that stops us from living life?


First, we need to stop beating ourselves up when we don't do what we wanna do, or forget something, or fail. Beating yourself down is one sure way of numbing your intuition. When a parent yells at their child enough times, the child will stop talking/communicating to them. So when we beat ourselves, we'll either stop listening to our intuition, or you'll quiet its silent voice. Sometimes, if not all the time, our hesitations, forgetfulness and failures happen for a reason. Learn from them. See if you can get past them. Failure is the greatest teacher. It tells us that the thing we tried doesn't work. Now we know.

Second, when (irrational) fear doesn't involve death, maybe we let go of the break and stomp on the gas pedal and don't run over anyone. If you're dating someone, and it doesn't work out, then take the time to learn from the experience. If you want to start your own business, and it doesn't work out, try and figure out why. What you'll find is the experience that you've accumulated while trying something out will help guide you in your next adventure, be it love or business. And that's the great thing about life. The experiences. People get on rollercoasters because of the ups and downs and the twists and turns. Not to reach the end of the ride. People watch scary movies because they want to be frightened. Not to reach the rolling credits. What makes life memorable is the craziness. But if we let our irrational fear stop us from doing anything worth while, then is life worth living?

Corporate Ladder to Nuthin'

I’m sitting in Starbucks and have just sent off another set of pages to go under my writing coach’s machete. I’ve gotten numb after reading through her many comments, constructive as they are. Now, most of the people studying here are college kids, eager to graduate and hit the corporate world.

I hate the corporate world. OK. Hate is a strong word. I loathe the corporate world. OK. Loath is just a synonym of hate. My bad.

There’s just something about that world that irks me. The volunteer 6 X 6 jail cell called a cubicle, earning a fraction of what one makes for the company, and the ridding of individuality by conforming to made up rules crafted to protect both the company and their assets (i.e. sexual harassment suits. OK. Bad example) doesn’t sit well with me.

However, I am thankful for my job. This particular position (I’m prohibited by my company’s code of conduct to reveal who employs me due to my radical ideas on this and all social sites) gives me a lot of freedom, and at the moment I earn enough to write amazing articles such as this (sarcasm anyone?), but more importantly, focus on my books and pay for my writing coach who costs a pretty penny. Well...she doesn’t cost a pretty penny, her services do. That don’t sound right neither.

Last week I was roving around Netflix and saw that they had added a movie called Nightcrawler, starring Jake Gyllenhaal. He plays Louis, a guy who is a psychopath, which lends well to his new occupation of filming crimes and atrocities of the streets of Los Angeles. He needs help with some of his duties and interviews an ex-junkie, Rick Garcia, played by Rick Garcia. sarcasm here. 

Are you happy to see me?

Are you happy to see me?

Imediately, Louis lies, feeding Rick a story about how he just lost an employee and is interviewing for a replacement

Rick gives Louis a cautious look and says the ad didn’t state what the job was.

“It’s a fine opportunity for some lucky someone,” Louis says. I think every job I’ve ever interviewed for had stated this in some manner.

Louis proceeds to ask Rick about his prior jobs and what he learned from them. Soon after, Louis hires him, paying him a massive sum of thirty bucks cash per night. Woot!

Aside from the awesome storyline of the movie, the interaction between Louis and Rick, employer and employee, are my favorite because Louis represents the corporate world and Rick represents the lowly everyday Joe who’s trying to scrape a living.

Louis spouts nuggets of wisdom like communication is the key to success, and fear stands for False Evidence Appearing Real. The funny thing is my office has posters with words of wisdom hanging on the walls as well, hoping that they drive the worker bees to do better (sarcasm anyone?).

Tough, Rugged Manly Intuition For Tough, Rugged Manly Men

An underpinning of my novel is trusting your intuition that speaks to us from within. My main character’s wife comes from a family who has developed something called Resonance of the Soul, a way to access innate wisdom that we all have by listening to the silence. Now, I don’t mention a divine entity nor a lack of one because part of the foundation of my book is that we are complete as a people. Our soul, or whatever makes us human, or takes us a level higher than the animals (maybe), is all we need in regards to wisdom and happiness.

In life, so it is in art –author of Nightfall, sole contributor to

I trust my intuition, but sometimes I get it confused with my own ego. Other times I get it confused with my own fear. Occasionally, I confuse it with my own lust. More often than not, I don’t even hear that inner voice that knows it all. But at least I listen. Part of learning to trust it is acknowledging when my intuition is right.

And the opportunities came! With two women. Hahaha!

One woman had antagonized me many times on a hike and during a dinner. When I first met her, I had walked away, dropped her like it's hawt, because I had no interest in her. There was no evidence to support my disinterest, like who she was as a person, but I felt it enough inside to just split. Since then, she has not been kind to me. Though, in my mind, that didn’t support my intuition’s wisdom, that is was correct, because maybe she’s frothy as a woman. So when I ran into her while I was meeting up with some friends, I decided to be nice and asked her if she had any interests or hobbies.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

"Do you read?"

She chuckled. "Nope." 

“Knitting? Movies? Theater? How about the outdoors?” I prodded.

“Nope. I just work, eat, and sleep.”

Yeah. I was right not to have an interest in her. In her defense, she does have a boyfriend. But I don’t hang out with him, even though he’s nice. He’s also a bit boring. But that’s just my opinion.

I was attracted to the second woman when I met her. We seemed to have a good connection, she seemed intelligent, so I asked her out. During an email exchange, she had gone off on a rant when we were trying to set up our first date. Her rant was more than enough for me to say fuck off, and that date never happened. Many of my friends, especially male friends who were hard-up, said I was in the wrong and should have apologized. I never did.

So over the past weekend, I was talking to a friend of mine who is also friends with this woman. And she went off on him because he wasn’t able to give her a ride to a hospital appointment. She doesn't have a car. 

My friend lives more than an hour away from her place of home. The fact that she had to call him (Was there no one closer?) indicates how many friends she may have.

I was happy to hear she went off on him because it helped vindicate me (in my mind) that my intuition was correct, and all of my hard-up friends were fucking wrong.

Too often we as a species don’t acknowledge our intuition. Too often we are chastised when we do. Many cults attribute this voice to God. And maybe it is God. But maybe it is our soul, which can be sole pieces of a larger entity. But I’m not here to argue for or against a divinity. I am here to suggest that our inner voice, maybe our soul, has more wisdom than we give it credit. And if we step aside and listen, maybe we can navigate this thing called life with more peace and happiness, like avoiding bitches that could wreak hell and havoc and mayhem in your life, for example.


Interstellar Wisdom

Is bowling an athletic sport? It's a sport by definition. It's athletic by definition. But it ain't gonna give you that lean body, six pack, cardiovascular capacity to run beyond your corner drug store. It's more of a get together kinda thing where women can watch men make fools of themselves, and men can watch women's butts as they negotiate the hardwood alleyways, while we pretend to watch the ball roll toward the gutter.

Someone told me they had watched Interstellar, and I excitedly asked him what he thought of it. His first question was, "Are you Christian?"

Wat da hell? No, I'm Jimmy. My mind went through about a thousand thoughts because I hadn't realize Interstellar had any religious implications except that maybe there were alien beings.

“I don’t believe in organized religion,” I answered. I spent the next five minutes trying to convince him of this truth because he thought I was Christian because I hang out with a lot of Christians (they’re everywhere), so ipso facto I must be Christian. That literally is five minutes of my life that is forever lost to me. So going back to the original question, I asked him what he thought of Interstellar, since I’d yet to see it.

“Movies can convince you that it’s real,” he said.

“That is the filmmaker’s job,” I said, profoundly.

He nodded and uttered these words of wise wisdom of goodness, “We will never run out of resources on Earth.” I wish he had said ‘On this God-given Earth’ cuz that would have made my freakin’ week.

But of course, he had yet to answer my Gawd dayem question. Then he proceeded to follow up those wise words of wisdom with more wise words of fucking wisdom, “I read an article where they found a fish when scientist have declared that fish extinct. Slowly, the wall of science will eventually crumble and everyone will know the Bible is right. Science is man’s creation and is fallible.”

I knew the answer before I asked the question: “So who wrote the Bible?”

“Man,” the wise one said. “But it was inspired by God.”

So I guess the science behind such things as electricity, water mechanics and engineering are just tropes that have no meaning or use whatsoever. He should stop using lights, turning on the faucet or driving his car because all of that works with the physics of this universe. But hey, who am I but a lowly writer of adult fantasy. The Bible anyone?

He began to go into religious beliefs with the goal of debating me, but I immediately ended the conversation because I ain't versed in them, and if your go to response is 'God inspired it', I can’t reasonably refute that. No one has yet to prove or disprove Her existence, and using that God inspired anything ultimately means nothing in a logical debate. Truthfully, whenever I looked at this dude, I saw:

But here’s the kicker.

When I wrote my book, Nightfall, I knew I had two basic levels of storytelling. The background of the story, the plot, is the conflict of war that ravages the people of the provinces. To readers, this looks like the foreground, the actual story. It’s the background because it showcases the real story of how a father and his wife deals with the loss of a child and the actions they take as the background happens.

Interstellar is similar. The hook is the Earth’s resources are at an end, and humans have to search for a new planet. But the real story is how powerful human connection is, how interlinked we all are, how it transcends life and death, distance and time and dimensions. The fact that the wise Christian missed this and refuses to believe that our planet’s resources can be used up means he lives in great fear, as evident from his statement that movies are convincing and his dependence on The Bible. He seems easily manipulated, and is manipulated to believe humans are born sinners. Geezus fuckin' Krist.

The missed-the-whole-point-of-Interstellar Christian had said many other gems of wisdom, but I didn’t want to go on a tirade against religion. I’m not about that, despite what I’ve written on this site. What I really dislike is how religion stops the conversation. There is no openness, therefore, a reasonable trade of ideas is very limited.

Here’s one gem: “I go to church to worship in the glory of God.”

Well…She is all powerful…couldn’t you do that anywhere and She’d see that? And apparently Heaven has a cover charge, like a lot of clubs on the weekend, given how much money the church collects.



Jimmy's Got a Gun

Tis the season for agent hunting. I gots me a gun and am trudging through the vast wilderness that is the Internet, stalking agents like a jealous boyfriend. Dat don't sound right. Part of the process is reading interviews that agents sometimes do, as it may reveal something that could help me make a connection through my query letter. One agent had this to say, "You're writing not to get published. You're writing because you love the act of doing so, and you cannot imagine doing anything else." I love that.

I Have a Headache

I Have a Headache

I've heard people describe writing as an incredibly solitary act. Tell that to the voices in my head. If we as writers want to get published, or somehow get our work out there, then we need people. And to lure them into our trap, we need to do some research on how to write a query letter, how to write a synopsis, even how to write a book. Shocking!

I've also heard that writing the book is the easiest part of publishing. I've already gone through a round of rejections about four years ago, so have some idea of the difficulty. And most people don't even know that getting an agent is the first of many steps before a book is even released into the wild.

And every time I visit my brother, he asks me: What's my plan. My response never changes; I shrug my shoulders.

Career Planning

Career Planning

Like so many things in life, hunting in the wild takes a lot of patience, following your intuition, and preparation. If I run into the plains of Africa with my gun, I'll most likely scare away my prey. If I run into those same plains without being prepared, I'll get eaten alive. And if I rely solely on my instruments, then I may blind myself to the real prize.

A friend of mine didn't do any research or get any feedback on her query letter before sending it out. She received her first rejection and sent it to me, and it was obvious why she had been rejected. The premise of her story, as she had  presented it, was cliché, an innocent young woman meets a mysterious man. She didn't give away the hook; for example, the lurking overbearing vampire (Twilight), or sex addict deviant (50 Shades of Grey). I've not read my friend's book, she may be afraid of my honest feedback and it may not help in the end, but she relied on her "intuition" alone to write both her book and query letter. 

It just doesn't work that way.

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I don't care how wise a person is, I ain't lettin' anyone perform open heart surgery on me unless they know what they're doin'. But that doesn't mean that the most qualified doctor has all the answers. Many alternative and new treatments are being worked on every day. So doing at least some research is always a good idea, take in what you learn, then let that inner part of you create, or help make your choice. 

And this is the hardest part of all, I think. It's trusting that somehow everything will work out, something that my brother doesn't understand.

A couple weeks ago, I went to a party at some remote place where the bus only showed up once an hour. I use public transportation as much as possible. But by the time I realized the last bus back had left, I was having too much fun, I was stuck without a ride back to BART.

I didn't consciously say everything will work out, but I tend to live my life this way. After walking around the hotel where the party was held, I found an hourly shuttle that went to the San Francisco Airport, a BART stop. Had I panicked and yelled and cried and complained and pounded my fists, I might not have found my way home, or at the least, made the whole process difficult.

So when agent hunting, I can only do my best with what I know and learn and query these elusive creatures, and if I'm able to bait one in and form a great relationship, then great. If not, great. Either way, I'll trudge on.

Dats Some Big Ass Footprints

Dats Some Big Ass Footprints

All of life is a long road. We can't see more than a few hundred feet, even less in the jungle, but the only way to reveal more of the road is to just keep going. Sometimes the road ends quickly. Others will lead us for the long haul. All we can do is find our passions and follow them until it takes us to where we need to be.

My Brother and the Destruction of the Death Star

I was listening to a life coach talk about innate wisdom vs the subconscious. He stated that he doesn't trust the subconscious because there were too many weird things in there, where ever "in" is. The kernel of The 7th Province books emerged through a drawing a friend of mine did in high school. Imagine a man with bat wings. The head, though, was of a tiger, so I had to change it to a vampire like one, not bloodsuckers mind you. However, that drawing wouldn't let me go. Plot elements emerged like wildfire. I couldn't help but fantasize about these people. It would be close to two decades before I even came up with a name, but then that's the process.

My dream

My dream

I've always wondered where these ideas came from.  Sure, many of these plot elements were inspired by things outside of me, things like other stories, history, things that affected me in my own life. But they lent themselves with no effort to the story that I wrote. Immediately, I knew these ideas came from some innate wisdom. And from researching other authors that I admired, they were hooked into this wisdom, though they may not have named it. Then pulling my own view off myself and into the universe, I knew all of us have access to this. It's just that most of the time we get in our own way, which is a great plot developing element for my character, something he has to overcome.

I tried to convey this to a woman yesterday when she asked me where I got my idea for my story from. I told her that in a lot of cases writers (and probably all artists) are chosen to do the work. That this story chose me to write it (relay, really). Why? I don't know, nor do I waste time trying to figure it out. She looked at me as if I was smoking some hybrid ganja. Truth be told, I wish I were.

But when the coach said there were weird things in the subconscious, I was a bit resistant because I always assumed that innate wisdom resided in that area. Maybe it does, since there's really no way anyone can prove otherwise. However, I had a dream that might sway the argument the subconscious is weird. Or maybe I'm just weird:

OMG.  A light saber!

OMG.  A light saber!

I wake with a view of a grated ramp with rows of candy bar sized holes running up the metal floor. This leads to a large window where a grand view of darkness speckled with stars opens in front of me, and I realize that I’m a princess of what’s left of the rebel force. Walking around the room, I can’t recall what I’m searching for, but I slam my foot down in various places, looking for wear and tear of some sort. Finding cracks reminds me how old my ship is, how old the tech is, how over-matched we are.

They be tiny

They be tiny

I do wonder why I’m a princess since I’m a man, a boy really, but worry of the impending doom takes me away from that thought. I round toward the rear of my starship, a massive one at that, and gleam at the last remnants of an aging X-Wing fleet. Though, I don’t recognize them as the standard, they do have additional equipment, compartments with additional armaments maybe. A hibernating crew of pilots awaits my order to attack. And, yes, we are going to attack the legendary Death Star.

I continue my walk, seeing familiar faces and quietly saying good-bye. I do not, nor do my crew, expect to come out of this alive. This is ultimately the defining moment of being a rebel. In our deaths I suppose, I’m hoping that something grander happens, but I’m not quite sure what.

Who's the dude down the street?

Who's the dude down the street?

In less than a blink of an eye, I find myself sitting on a parking bump at the San Francisco piers, and given how sunny it is, I take off my shorts, leaving only my boxer briefs on. Getting a tan is a pass time that I enjoy for having no purpose in it except to relax. The Pacific Ocean is at my back, a large warehouse to my front, and the Death Star to the north in the deep blue sky. A crowd gathers looking up at the monolithic battle station, and there’s a growing fear of what’s going to happen. Despite what’s going on, I continue snacking. Then the crowd goes wild and I look up.

Dayem...that's not good--

Dayem...that's not good--

The Death Star plunges toward Earth and explodes upon impact in the far distance. A large fiery wall rushes toward the crowd, and, to my terror, me. Part of that terror comes from being aware that my brother is next to me and the knowing that the wall of death will reach us with ease.

I urge my brother to run into the warehouse hoping that it would give us some shelter. While running, I glimpse down a street as buildings are consumed by the explosion and another knowing overwhelms me: the warehouse is not enough. As we cross the threshold into the warehouse, my last view is a flash of bright light crashing through the building’s rear. Again I find myself a boy, jump into my brother’s arms and tell him repeatedly that I love him. Yellow light engulfs us and the expected pain that comes with being burned alive doesn’t come. My hope was that death is so quick we feel nothing, and my wish comes true. Weightlessness surrounds my embrace and a moment floats by with no end in sight, no resolution of any kind, no purpose, just pure light.

A blinding glare blares through my eyelids, and I turn my head away. The sun through my metal blinds wakes me and the images of my dream are clear as day, emotions resonating to the point where I have to document them on my site. As I sit here typing away, I’m not sure what any of that stuff means, why Star Wars was the main theme in images, and even humor that Disney’s assimilation of Star Wars—resistance is futile—may in some way destroy the iconic trilogy. Not that George hasn’t ruined them already with the release of first three episodes and the many re-releases of the last three, according to many hardcore fans. Coincidentally, or maybe not, George is also my brother’s name.

Side note: Twice now that I can recall, I’ve died in my dreams. In another, I actually hit the ground falling off a building. So puts to rest the myth that if you die in your dreams, you die in real life.

Brain Washed?

There's one in every organization. A devoted minion waiting to please their master. How do people gain these devotees is something I write about in my book. This past Saturday I went to a friend's black belt presentation.  Then attended an after party at an instructor's house.

If you've read mybio, you know my opinion of that.

I hadn't been back to the school for many years.  By choice mind you.  Most of the students have changed.  But nothing outside of that has.  They still teach the rigid style of martial arts, the same kind that Bruce Lee rebelled against.  But there was something more sinister going on that I'd forgotten over the years.

One of the common beliefs that the students and teachers hold is once someone gets a black belt that person is never wrong, or never questioned.  Now, they don't necessarily teach this, but that notion is enforced.

One indication is this.

One of the things students do is bow to all of the instructors when they enter and exit the school.  It's a form of respect.  It's fairly normal in all martial arts schools.  But when people started bowing to black belts at the after party, I shook my head.  It's unnecessary.  They were in someone's home, outside of the formal school setting. And no one stopped it.  Brain washed?

Many of the students also take whatever the black belts say as gospel.  They don't realize that black belts are just people with a freakin' belt colored in black.  And this is where the danger comes from.

A good student is one who follows but also thinks for himself.  And as a result, they should ask the teacher questions.  Why is this important?

A student must follow in order to learn.  This is how wisdom and knowledge is passed down.  Fair enough.  The student should then think, "Does this apply to me?"  Not all the time.

Here's an example:  If I were teaching a woman about self defense, she may not have the kind of strength and power that a man has.  So accuracy and reaction training is VERY important.  She has to be able to make every single strike count because her targets will be much more specific-eyes, nose, throat, solar plexus, groin.  Her reaction has to be instant, like avoiding a punch, because a single punch can end her day. And women have to take into account long hair if they have it.

That doesn't mean I don't focus on power or speed, which are directly related.  But I'd point out what she needs immediately in order to make her dangerous as soon as possible.  I'd teach her how men commonly attack women.  That way she knows what to look for, and what to attack if she is to be accosted.

If I were to teach a man, I'd still teach him the importance of striking the eyes, nose, throat, solar plexus and groin.  But his strength may be enough to offset the attacker without using lethal strikes.  So I would point out his physical strengths, his awareness of reach, and the common ways men are attacked.

I'd also get rid of the notion of self defense to both men and women.

As you can see, there are major differences in teaching males and females.  And the differences extend to teaching children.  They are further distilled down to individuals, depending on who they are.

A lot of these martial arts schools will teach a one-size-fits-all routine that don't take into account how a person learns, how a human body works, or even the self-worth of the student, the mental side.  Add the egos that are displayed in a lot of these schools, the bowing, the not able to question teachers, and the rigid routines, are the reasons why I left.

Bruce Lee rebelled against the gospel type of martial arts.  He was one of the first to emphasize mixing of martial arts.  There is truth in that, which is why MMA is so prevalent today.