I Know A Place Where The Devil Can’t Reach Us
Grab my hand.
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Novel Excerpt One: Love’s Alive
Weekend reviews from Souled Idea readers across the globe:
“Smoking a cigarette. Beach side. Thanks for all you do bro. I invited a fat girl over. Is it okay to kiss her?” - Josh M, Miami Fl. Thank YOU. All I can do is give the keys… the rest is up to you…. (Yes. Kiss her. I’m feeling polite tonight. Ask her how much she weighs and before she answers say you don’t care, she’s beautiful anyways. Mean it!)
“Let’s do a bank heist” - Marcel L. Canada. I know an executive at ______ _____that says they have a vulnerable moment between 11-11:23am every 2nd Thursday. Drive down. You can stay at the Gangs HQ.
Here comes Frank and poor old Jim
They're gathering 'round with all my friends
We're older now, the light is dim
And you are only just beginning
I’m only outside right now because I had a mental breakdown on the dance floor. For a few moments everyone cheered, got real in to it. They thought it was a new dance move, The Psycho, in which you tightly clench every muscle in your body except your arms and with these loose you flail around in a wild unpredictable manner, swinging dangerously hard while straining your eyes to be as wide and open as possible.
It’s a terrifying sight.
So I’m told.
I got carried out for ‘scaring everyone’ which seems wrong because I got a glimpse of a few people licking their lips. Seductively.
What set me off was someone mentioning the oppression women face in the workplace. Have you heard of this grave injustice? There are women! Our moms, daughters, wives forced to WORK!
Maria tried to calm me down…
“Winston it’s okay… some women want to work! They want to be independent. Isn’t that something you can understand?” she asks while pulling a parliament light out of my pocket, puts it in her mouth, lights it, takes the first puff, then gently puts it between my lips. I’m snarling but careful not to bite her finger.
I’m on edge. Further than. I’m levitating over the cliff. Suspended by a thread. On the boardwalk and everything around me is buzzing. Everything is moving. The nightlifer’s bodies, sound waves, things that shouldn’t be, inanimate objects, earlier I saw a man speaking to a park bench and that same park bench has been whispering to me for 15 minutes to come hangout, sit on its face. Real depraved shit.
Turning back to Maria, “Yes,” I say, truthful.
“I understand having a distaste for dependance. The subtle, constant anxiety that comes from knowing you have to rely on someone else. Then, baby, when you think of how lazy, irresponsible and ambitionless most people are it makes sense nobody wants to put their full livelihood in someone else’s hands. I know a place the Devil can’t get to us but...” and I trail off, distracted again by the mayhem around.
She grabs my hand and squeezes, she seems grateful, relieved to have brought me back to down to Earth. She tilts her head a little to the side and I, as always, interpret this body language as an invitation to go into a scorched earth tangent. First! I scream at the park bench! Who is now yelling obscenities at me, telling me “come here daddy. forget her. feel my wood” and I hiss that I’ll saw him into tiny splinters, shaved painstakingly into a million 3centimenter long pieces before lighting him on fire.
“ooooo. I like it rough…..”
He is sick. Depraved. Someone should check on him.
“The real problem is lack of trust from both parties. By ‘both’ I mean Man and Woman. You know that right? Only those two exist. Woman don’t trust Men to care for them while also making enough money to support her while also having the personality traits to be a good father, or the personal characteristics to be desired, wanted by other women but also being loyal. It’s a give and take. The perfect Man exist but he’s encouraged by the specific Woman designed for him. She enables him, THEM, by making his life easier so that he can become someone she trust and gives herself to. She must submit to him but only after he submits to God”
Maria is nodding. I am continuing.
“But the real kicker is this. And this is where I empathize with you. Men of today are pathetic. They’re weak. Not physically, well, that too. Do my shoulders look bigger?”
I wait for a response.
“Yes baby”
“Good.” I blush.
“But yeah, physically weak, spiritually weak, emotionally inept and mentally empty in that they have the brain capacity of an 11 year old boy.
Why would any woman want to commit to this?
Why would any woman want to depend on that?
Women, while not operating through logic as much as men, have a sensitive intuition that is often more correct than logic and that intuition, I think, in todays time, tells them the majority of men aren’t worth committing to. Hormonal imbalances destroy this intuition, birth control, benzos, all types of stuff are taking Women from their source but some still feel it closely. Others are just whores who study astrology between dick and feel connected, spiritual. That’s a faux feeling and they know it.”
My cigarette is about to go out from neglect and I pause to deep inhale. deep exhale.
“So what we see is a top-dog eats paradigm where the men that woman do *feel* are capable of hitting all the spots:
Wealth, Health, Genetics, Personality, Sexual Pleasure, Potential, have an absurd amount of options. The rest of men, the majority, then turn inward and away from woman. Incels. Porn heightens this. It’s the easy route. Get bitter towards woman because they don’t give you attention. The better path, the one chosen by I’d say less than 1%, is to ascend. To build something, train hard, submit to God, forget the need for sexual pleasure and desire from woman. Become someone worth being desired. Become someone who can provide for her so SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO SLAVE AWAY IN THE MODERN WORKFORCE. HAVE YOU HEARD OF THIS OPPRESSION?”
I’m now sweating. My blood is boiling again. Maria rubs my forearm and says she understands what I’m saying. That it’s okay. That I can relax. Her eyes speak louder than her voice.
“It’s not really. It’s a fucked situation for both genders. Being pitted against each other. I’m not sparing women by leaving them out of this. The problem with them is a modern resistance to old values, values which are important and have stood the test of time but have been flipped on their head out of flowery words like liberation, freedom. There’s a disregard towards commitment because committing has been painted as sacrificing your individuality for a man. Or simpler things really, a disregard towards modesty: showing naked body online, wearing skimpy clothes, because if someone (a man, who you may love) told you to stop, you’d feel your ability to self express was encroached upon. Do you witness that ever, with your friends?” I ask
Maria, staring at me and not expecting a question is taken out of her trance and nods quickly, like she’s trying to compensate for the delayed reaction.
“I see it too. I think most woman view submitting to a man as losing a game. The game is not real. The game is manufactured by The New World. The family unit is attacked and women have been tricked that to beat it is to become so successful, independently, that a man, family isn’t need. Unfortunately ‘SUCCESS’ has a twisted definition here. What’s fulfillment, purpose? Is one fulfilled by their career, does cashing a check give one purpose? The demographic my hearts breaks for the most is a 45 year old woman unable to have kids who is now middle management at some company specializing in tech marketing or some shit, but at night, cries over her decision, maybe during the day she’s strong enough, aware enough to push down these feeling. I AM HAPPY with the way my life turned out, blessed in my career, but at night, a couple glasses of wine deep, that maternal instinct roars its head and she wonders what could have been. Maybe this woman doesn’t exist but I imagine her to. That alone is enough for me.”
deep inhale, deep exhale. The cigarette and Maria’s touch ignite something, somewhere, hidden below reality. Someone on the boardwalk is singing The Chainsmokers Closer and for a moment I transport to my college dorm room, a place where I knew everything I’d never know I didn’t need to know.
’“Just how women don’t feel most men are worth submitting to and trusting. Men feel most women aren’t worth submitting to or trusting. Men will marry out of lust or sexual desperation. Women wont, but they’ll marry out of consolation: I can’t get X so Y will have to do. Because as we mentioned earlier, only a small % of men are perceived as the total package and that small % can pick from 1,000s. So why would they chose to be with the Modern Woman? The one we’ve already talked about being roped into modern mindset. And what if she settled with a mediocre man, was shown interest/given a chance with a more highly perceived man and decided to blow up her marriage for a chance with him? Just… what if?… What if you married Rosie O Donald and Jennifer Lawrence invited you over for dinner. Do you have the integrity, loyalty to stay faithful. Men feel women aren’t worth providing for because she may be a grass is greener type. Or they believe she’s vain, in love with herself on social media, or heard stories about her sucking Tylers dick at the bar, ‘but she’s changed’ doesn’t erase 30+ body counts. Our grandparents are sick of us and I’m with them. Divorce rates are sky rocketed and I’m supposed to be with one person, love her, provide for her, give her everything, commit to having a kid with her - who may or may not leave me for a tiktok influencer is a question I imagine most men ask themselves.”
My whole body decompresses. My shoulders drop. That electrocuting energy has dwindled and now it’s a heavy feeling of despair. To end like this is to kill the conversation in hopelessness and this has never been my style. You must give them something, anything to grab on to, a sunset of the horizon of a dark night. No matter how depressed you feel, fake it for a final couple sentences, let them feel you’re optimistic. Nobody likes a nihilist. Leave a good taste in their mouth.
“The only thing, Maria, that will save us is both genders going home to their roots. Masculine Men, Feminine Women, both of which finding love for their natural disposition and letting it blossom, fostering its growth. Maternal instincts of care, tenderness, Paternal instincts of protection, safety. And after that, after each has learned to be excited what they bring to the table, both must submit to God, ask for discernment and only then, through faith, come together as one.”
I kiss her forehead before running into the ocean. I hope the salt water will hide my tears.
I’m going to put a gun to the head of an athiest, look like I’m willing to pull the trigger, easy to fake, I think, and see if he begins to pray to God. As an experiment. Out of curiosity.
Men are Weak. Women are Proud. What do we get? The meek, the loud. The family is strangled boney fingers latch a neck tangled. No myth, no rumor, blood drowns the heart. Arteries mangled, a growing tumor.
WITH LOVE,
WINSTON
SOULED IDEA
UNDERGROUND PREACHER
BLUE EYED BANDIT
