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35 Second Fingertip Handstand

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Size Vs. Muscularity Part 1: Bulking Is No Excuse To Become Rasputia Lattimore

One of the biggest lessons, in my opinion the most revelatory, that I ever gleaned from my extensive studies of physical culture lore, past and present, is the difference between size for the sheer sake of it, and muscularity. It marks the line between the fat ass at your local gym that has "18 inch arms" resembling uncooked hot dogs, and a 300 plus bench, albeit with a severely limited ROM and liberal assistance from a myriad of spotters, yet carries a curious case of gynecomastia, and the smaller, leaner guy with visible muscular delineation, above average size and a dense, Spartan look.





Now, make no mistake, I am in no way bashing the larger men, particularly Powerlifters or Strongmen, that may boast a somewhat remarkable gut yet easily total over 1000 in competition or lift stones overhead that it would take 3 of me to budge. These men are remarkable athletes and are obviously capable of astonishing feats of athleticism and awesome strength. While somanotypes are indeed…

The Importance Of Mobility Training

The bittersweet blessing bestowed upon every young man who, whether to increase the vitality of his immune system to ward off unwelcome disease, gain more than his fair share of feminine attention and affection, or simply to add some beef to kick a bully's ass, has sought greater muscular size is an incredible gain in strength and bulk, offset by a near complete loss in mobility.

Many a misguided neophyte bodybuilder, myself most definitely included, plugged away at the standard compound exercises studiously and assiduously, and, as compensation for their continued perseverance, were granted gorgeously capped deltoids, thighs with the girth of stumps, arms as massive as mountains, chests that would shame the cast of Baywatch, and lats so wide their backs could double as hang gliders. They preen and prance like prized stallions, enamored by the barbaric enormity of their physiques, as well as the apparent comic book quality of their strength. It is an intoxicating gift for sure, w…

My Path In Physical Culture: Part 1

Unlike a growing contingent of “athletes” obsessed with efficiency at the expense of results and productivity, I love to train. In fact, I fucking LIVE to train. The understated ease yet enjoyable difficulty and toil that comes with increasing your work capacity, refining a previously intimidating technique, perfecting the firing of your neuromuscular proficiencies, and simply pumping your limbs full of blood until they are close to bursting all amalgamate to form a potent cocktail that will forever remain unmatched and unsurpassed by any narcotic or liquor. In my opinion, it even beats the height of orgasm at times. Arnold said it first, so by default it can’t be wrong.



                                                             The King has spoken.

It is both the bane and the blessing of every bodybuilder’s existence. It can leave you unfathomably sore and crippled with DOMS after the ecstasy of the experience has subsided, yet, in the moment, you can feel as if you have the body…

Fitness In Hawaii

Disgust can be a powerful motivator. For an area with a climate that not only requires, but practically commands that both sexes remain mostly uncovered for the overwhelming majority of the year or risk possible heat stroke, my amazement with the vast cadre of physiques here is essentially non-existent. The notable exception is, surprisingly, those belonging to my age group. In an interesting turn of events, the complete antithesis of what is usually encountered on the mainland; many millennials here pride themselves on their fitness levels, athletic abilities, and the aestheticism of their bodies. Whereas, even in my beloved California, a woman that dedicates herself to the gym with passionate devotion, rather than idiotically starving herself then halfheartedly plodding through a Zumba class a few times a week, is a rarefied minority, in paradise, nearly every woman, from Mothers to Marines, is in the gym 5 days out of the week, pumping iron, hitting the heavy bag, and sprinting on…

Blood On The Page

Here I am again, speaking to you, the call that forever beckons, the ear endlessly bent to hear my dying voice. I am but a whisper in this world trailing the winds, distant and remote, eternally cursed to witness and observe, but never to enjoy and partake. If this is to be my fate, so be it, but you should know by now that a Man like me does not lay down into pitiful subservience. The only time I will take any pose somewhat resembling submission is when Im laid to rest in a pine box for the long haul.

I've been asked numerous times why I continue to press forward, to wage silently yet passionately against the demons accosting me at every turn, eyeing me hungrily whilst shrouded in their darkness, the shadow that has stifled the light within me, enveloping me in the unknown. I do so because my soul yearns for more, for an inkling of a future where my life is once again under my soveriegn control and I am purposefully and personally driven.

 I salivate at the prospect of willing my…

A Confessional

Life here can be somewhat isolated and lonely at times. The normal interests, such as drinking, clubbing and general bar hopping, are alien to me now. Sure, when Im with friends I get fucked up and comatose, but when Im on my own, which is 95% of the time, consuming alcohol only serves to leave me sluggish and vulnerable, the last thing I want or need.

Surfing is obviously a popular pastime, given that Hawaii is known globally for its practice and origins. The beaches, coated in rich, intense sunlight, are picturesque and inviting, as are the bountiful women sporting naught but thongs and pasties that seem to populate them nearly exclusively. Unfortunately, my ridiculous sun allergy, which also contributes to one of my many nicknames, The Broken Mexican, eradicates any hope of lounging on the sands for more than a few minutes.

This leaves me in quite the conundrum. Incapable of participating in the local activities, comfortably anyway, because my stubborn ass still does, I find myself…