I Hope You’re Ready To Unleash Your Inner Sherlock. Here We Go!

So, listen up, my rebellious crew! Forget cheesy pickup lines and rose-colored glasses. Today, we’re getting into the captivating world of 

, decoding the unspoken language that fuels every interaction. This ain’t your mama’s seduction guide; it’s about wielding the power of reading people like a master strategist. Think Robert Greene’s “The Art of Seduction,” but instead of charming someone into bed, we’re charming them into revealing their true selves. At the end of this here article thing, I will list some of the things to “look for” when attempting to “read” people.

First things first, let’s crack open the human psyche. It’s all about desires, motivations, the hidden forces that make us tick. Remember, everyone’s running their own internal hustle, and understanding that hustle is key to reading them. So, I’m at a crowded bar, and this one bartender dude’s body language screams “uncomfortable.”. So me being me, I struck up a conversation with the gruff bartender. Most folks just saw a grumpy dude slinging drinks. But I noticed a flicker in his eyes, a longing hidden beneath the gruff exterior. Turns out, dude was a musician with dreams buried deep. By tapping into his passion, we ended up having a dope conversation, a connection formed through reading the story beneath the surface..

Not everyone’s an open book. Just like you wouldn’t hit on a stranger wearing a wedding ring (at least I hope not), you pick the right people to read. Look for those subtle cues — a fleeting glance, a nervous fidget. Once, I was at a networking event, and this quiet woman in the corner seemed guarded. While everyone else chased the loudmouths, I saw her sharp eyes taking it all in. Observing silently while blending in. Engaging her revealed a brilliant mind and a willingness to introduce me to a network of connections I would’ve missed otherwise. See? Choosing the right target holds the possibility to unlock hidden treasures.

Nobody wants to feel interrogated, right? Now, the beauty of reading people lies in the art of indirection. Basically, you want to convey a message in a roundabout way. A great way to do this is by asking leading question that will guide someone toward a desired outcome. For example: I’m chatting with a business partner, weaving a casual conversation, but subtly dropping hints to gauge his long-term vision for the company. By creating a comfortable space, I encourage genuine revelations. Suddenly, he starts outlining his ambitious plans, revealing hidden aspects of his drive, and ultimately bringing us together in order to achieve some of these goals. This ain’t about mind games, it’s about uncovering the real story.

People are complex, full of contradictions. That’s where mixed signals become your secret weapon. Let’s imagine a high-powered CEO at a charity event. He exudes confidence, yet a flicker of sadness clouds his eyes when a child talks about losing a parent. By dissecting these conflicting cues, you start understanding the person beneath the facade. In one instance, I read a man who, despite his success, craved a deeper purpose. By understanding his hidden longing, one could help him connect with a mentorship program that reignited his passion, or some shit.

Shine Bright, Like a Diamond (in the Rough):

Remember, reading people is a two-way street. Just like seduction, you gotta showcase your own unique qualities. Sometimes, going against the grain will present unexpected, but positive outcomes. A few years back, I met a group of entrepreneurs, all boasting about their ventures. I went a different route, talked about my past failures, what I learned from them, and how they helped me get to where I was — the lessons learned, the scars earned. Guess what? They started opening up, sharing their own struggles. The beauty of failures is that they are necessary lessons that we can use as stepping stones to reach our goals. Better than that is being able to learn from other folks failures and avoiding them if they ever show up. My authenticity became a bridge, allowing me to understand their deepest desires and fears.

Here’s a secret: sometimes, a little discontent can be a good thing. Imagine I’m talking to a friend who seems stuck in a dead-end job. By casually mentioning a skills workshop, I could highlight a gap he might not have noticed. Suddenly, he’s talking about his long-dormant passion for graphic design(my passion). By sparking a little discontent, I opened doors to understanding his true aspirations. By doing so I helped him and myself. He now had a reason to follow what he loved and I was able to understand more of what drives people.

Just like a master seducer uses subtle hints, so too does a master reader of people. By using subtle hints and unspoken cues, you can understand someone’s true thoughts and desires. It’s about picking up on the little things they might not say straight up, like:

 that reveal hidden concerns or aspirations.

 that offer a glimpse into their values or interests.

By deciphering these whispers, you gain a deeper understanding of the person and can build a more genuine connection. It’s a more nuanced approach than just listening to their direct statements. Another bullshit story: I’m negotiating a deal with a stubborn client. Instead of a direct confrontation, I “accidentally” mention a competitor’s recent success. Boom — his competitive spirit kicks in, and we find a solution that benefits everyone. Remember, subtle hints can unlock hidden desires and pave the way for mutually beneficial connections.

Reading people isn’t just about reading minds, it’s about stepping into their world, considering their perspective. This is something that tends to be very difficult to most, despite what they say or even think. So it’s up to you to go beyond just listening to their words, it involves:

 Trying to see the world through their eyes. Consider their background, challenges, and motivations.

 Empathizing with their joys, frustrations, and struggles. Imagine how you might feel in their situation.

 Putting aside your own biases and opinions to understand their viewpoint without criticism.

 Subtly mimicking their body language or communication style can foster a sense of connection and trust.

You don’t have to agree with them, that’s now what it’s about, but about truly understanding where they’re coming from. A powerful tool in any scenario.

Let’s be honest, everyone has weaknesses. Now, here’s the twist: you don’t exploit them, you use them to spark a deeper connection. Let’s pretend I’m mentoring a young entrepreneur who’s all about the hustle, neglecting his health. By casually mentioning a fitness challenge I’m doing (with a hint of friendly competition, of course), I tap into his competitive spirit. Suddenly, he’s researching healthy meal plans and joining me for morning jogs. By tempting him with a challenge that aligns with his aspirations (being the best version of himself), I not only understand his workaholic drive but also guide him towards a more balanced life. Win win for everyone.

We’ve been talking about reading people, unlocking their secrets, and building connections. But here’s the thing — you gotta keep ’em on their toes too. Nobody digs a predictable story, right? So, let’s talk about the art of 

Let’s say you’re in the middle of a high-stakes negotiation. Easy pickings if your opponent lays their cards on the table like a tourist in a casino. But that’s when you disrupt the script. Lean back, a glint in your eye, and hit them with a question so unexpected it throws their carefully crafted plan into disarray.

“So, tell me, what’s the craziest business risk you’ve ever taken that paid off in a big way?”

See how this unexpected question works? They’re expecting a counter-offer, not a personal story prompt. Now you’re in their head and you just gained the upper hand. It reveals something about them: Do they have a history of bold moves? Or a risk-averse approach? It also plants a seed of doubt: Are you trying to gauge their risk tolerance? Or is there another angle? AGain, This keeps them guessing and forces them to re-evaluate their strategy on the fly. It’s a power move that puts you in control of the negotiation. You’re welcome.

 this isn’t about manipulation, it’s about mastery. By applying these principles ethically, you’ll transform yourself into a human decoder ring, unlocking the secrets that lie beneath the surface of every interaction. The world is a vast landscape of fascinating characters, waiting to be understood. So, grab your metaphorical magnifying glass, unleash your inner Sherlock, and start reading people like a pro. Profit out, I need to go eat some sushi or something.

Here is a short list of things to look for:

 What kind of language do they use? Formal, informal, technical, slang? This can indicate their background, education level, and even personality traits.

 Is it monotone, energetic, hesitant, or confident? Tone can reveal emotions and overall disposition.

 Do they speak quickly or slowly? Fast talkers might be nervous or excited, while slow talkers might be deliberate or contemplative.

 Posture, gestures, facial expressions — all communicate a lot. Crossed arms can indicate defensiveness, while open palms can suggest openness. A furrowed brow might mean confusion, while a smile can signal happiness or nervousness (context matters!).

 Do they make good eye contact or look away frequently? Consistent eye contact can show confidence and interest, while shifty eyes might indicate discomfort or deception.

 Are they unconsciously mimicking your body language? This can indicate rapport and a desire to connect.

 What are they wearing? How do they present themselves? This can give clues about their social status, profession, and even personality (although try not to stereotype, it will bite you in the ass).

 How do they interact with others and their environment? Are they fidgety, restless, or calm and collected?

 Don’t interpret a single cue in isolation. Consider the situation and other factors before drawing conclusions.

 Reading people takes time and practice. Don’t expect to be a master overnight.

Cracking The Code: The Art Of Reading People

The sun rose that day much like any other in the crisp month of October, just a breath away from Halloween, marking the onset of the first cold week post the relentless scorch of a typical Vegas Summer. Rising promptly at 4:00 am, my daily ritual unfolded – washing my face, brushing my teeth, laying out my attire, and downing a protein shake followed by a Miller High Life tall can.

The morning dance continued with the meticulous tasks of accounting and inventory. Starting with a count of the products on hand at my immediate disposal, I then jumped into the inventory housed in my vault beyond the city limits. A rough estimate of anticipated profits was calculated, meticulously documented, and securely stashed away in my safe beneath the shower flooring.

The following steps involved scrutinizing the stock levels of various dealers, tracking outstanding balances, and addressing any discrepancies that might have arisen. Friday was designated as the delivery day for my top-tier vendors, each shipment orchestrated by a different courier to minimize the risk of repeat encounters. A sealed envelope containing the deposit box code awaited the vendor, with the second part of the key provided only upon cash insertion.


For larger deliveries, a set of keys and the location of the vehicle were disclosed post-payment, ensuring the courier's safe departure. To underscore the seriousness and precautionary measures, all deliveries were accompanied by a discreet presence of plastic explosives, coupled with the lingering tales of my purported brutal psychopathy. Tales, which over time, had swelled with embellishments.

With the logistics sorted, a well-deserved shower beckoned, followed by the careful selection of accessories, the choice of a vehicle, and a swift entrance into my garage. By this time, the clock had rolled to 6:45 am, triggering the vigilant setting of alarms as the vehicle crossed the threshold of the garage door.

My destination was the East Side of Las Vegas, in the heart of my territory, the legendary Boulder Highway. I navigated the familiar streets, easily recognized as the most feared figure on this side of town. Tales of my rise to power echoed the narratives spun in classic crime movies, and the comparison wasn't unwarranted, given that I always found myself at the epicenter of it all. The stories of my exploits had woven a web of fear, ensuring my reputation as the formidable force ruling these streets.

I glide into the East Side Cannery, a bustling casino and hotel nestled in the heart of Boulder Highway, behind the wheel of my brand new Indigo BMW 760 Presidential. Pulling up to the front doors, I casually throw my keys to the waiting valet, hand him a hundred, and make my way to the elevator. The journey to the 8th floor is swift, and from there, I prefer to take the stairs for the remaining ascent to the penthouse. Each time, a different route – a small nuance in an otherwise routine path, though the destination always remains the same.

Entering the penthouse sanctuary, I secure the locks and set the alarm, a habitual precaution. My first stop is the bar, where I nonchalantly place my .40 mm Rugers, pouring myself a generous dose of Bacardi 151. I knock it back and refill, settling onto the sofa. In a ritual known only to me, I prepare a syringe with a gram of the finest crystal Vegas has to offer, mixing it with warm water. The shot hits, and the world transforms into ecstasy. Cooling down from the rush, I discard my T-shirt, leaving me in a wife-beater.

Unlike the average person, I don't succumb to coughing fits despite the harsh hit to the throat. Beads of sweat form as I sit in contemplation. It's 7:25 am, the usual time for me to begin the day's preparations efficiently. Yet, an unusual realization sets in – my phone, the lifeline of my bustling enterprise, hasn't rung even once. Normally, this hour would be punctuated by calls from clients arranging their weekly shipments or addressing concerns about tardy deliveries caused by the previous night's escapades involving drugs, alcohol, and women.

As the clock strikes 7, an eerie silence persists, stretching for another forty minutes. I slide into the realms of speculation, pondering the possible scenarios that could explain the unprecedented absence of communication from my clientele.

As I pondered the unusual silence, the thoughts swirled in my mind. What could elicit fear from those who crossed my path? Perhaps nothing short of my true form materializing outside their window, reminiscent of a scene straight out of a horror movie. Or maybe, it was a simple oversight—a forgotten delivery, a glitch in the meticulous numbers. It's not unheard of, especially if the digits don't align precisely. Then again, I considered the possibility that I was overthinking the entire situation, a rare occurrence for someone like me who rarely engaged in overthinking.

In the midst of my contemplation, a sudden buzz from my phone jolted me. Katjana. New in town, already the subject of much attention. And why not? She embodied beauty, radiating fitness and a heart full of love despite the tragedies she'd witnessed. Katja was a unique soul, unafraid and unyielding, unlike anyone I'd encountered. Her happiness wasn't derived from what I possessed or what I could offer; it was a genuine joy that resonated with me. She lingered in the recesses of my mind, uncharted territory for someone who had never experienced love and harbored no desire to do so.

Answering the call, I greeted her, “Yo…”

"Hey Sammy, what's up? I really need to speak to you," she responded.

"I would rather do so face to face if you would be so kind," she requested.

"Just finished at the gym over on Trop, about to head home. You want to meet in an hour?" she proposed.

"Text me your address. See you in an hour," I agreed.

Ending the call, a peculiar transformation swept through me as the fading silence settled in. An unfamiliar surge of excitement or perhaps happiness coursed through my veins, a sensation foreign and baffling. It was all Greek to me, an indescribable phenomenon brewing within, growing stronger with each passing moment yet restrained, unable to manifest physically. The question lingered: Who was this girl? I mean, who was she truly?

A second buzz from my phone interrupted my contemplation, revealing her address. Familiar with the apartment complex, I swiftly adorned my shirt, holstered my guns, and made my way out. Navigating the casino floor with purposeful strides, I ensured that anyone who spotted me had the good sense to steer clear. It appeared to have worked, or perhaps I went unnoticed—either way, I felt grateful.

The valet attendant, recognizing the urgency, swiftly retrieved my car within minutes. A generous tip exchanged hands, and I hopped into my vehicle. About 15 minutes later, I arrived at the apartment complex, cruising around to locate her door. Parking in reverse, a typical precaution, I stepped out, set the alarm, and approached her door.

After an extended wait from my knocking, she finally answered. Stunning doesn't begin to describe it. With her hair still wrapped in a towel, donning a long t-shirt that hinted at small shorts underneath, she stood before me—a sight to behold.

"Hey, come on in, make yourself at home. I'll be ready in a few minutes," she warmly invited.

"Sounds good. I need to use your restroom," I replied.

"The first door on the right," she directed.

Entering the restroom, it appeared smaller than I had envisioned. Without hesitation, I pulled out a pre-loaded syringe and set it down by the sink. Flexing my left arm until the veins surfaced, I grabbed the pin and injected. Leaving a small air pocket allowed the blood to rush in as soon as the vein was breached, and I pushed the contents in. Instant heat, swimmy vision, and a jolt in the throat followed. Disposing of the pin down the toilet, I collected myself before heading out.

"You alright?" I heard her voice from the living room sofa. How long was I in there?

"I'm good. So what's up? What did you need to talk about?"

"Always straight to the point with you," she remarked.

Raising both eyebrows conveyed my message, prompting her to proceed.

"Okay, so this is gonna sound weird, and don't get any ideas by how it starts."

"Ever since I met you, I've been having these vivid dreams that seem so real, it's crazy. I wake up in a dark room, that part is always the same. I get up, look around, and then you come in. As soon as I see you, you greet me and start telling me a story. Wild shit."

She looked around, a hint of unease evident in her demeanor. The anticipation hung heavy in the air. If what she described mirrored the vivid dreams I had been experiencing, the revelation was bound to be mind-bending.

"Okay, so you start telling me these crazy stories about how we used to be gods and were destined for one another. How we were created from one soul and split in two..."

I couldn't hold back; I cut her off and started speaking.

"We were created among the first, an amalgamation destined to be together and drawn to each other every life. We aren't immortal, just too difficult to kill. Our race was designed as the perfect soldiers—unemotional and efficient. Yet, we were also given the capacity for love, for connection. That's how we found each other, life after life.

We have no memories of our past lives, but we always feel a deep connection to each other. It's as if we are two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together. Drawn to each other in a way we can't explain.

Every life, we find each other and fall in love. But our love is never allowed to last."

Her eyes widened, mouth agape, and tears welled up. Goosebumps dotted her arms.

"How... how do you know what you said? This is so fuckin' weird," she blurted out.

"I've been having these dreams too, except in my dreams, it's you telling me these stories. What in the fuck is going on?" The air thickened with an eerie sense of shared bewilderment.

"We need to figure this shit out, understand why this is happening to us," I declared, the resolve in my voice echoing the determination that now fueled us both.

The weight of our shared revelation hung in the room, the air pregnant with unspoken questions and the mysteries of our intertwined existence. Katjana's eyes, a mix of disbelief and curiosity, met mine as we grappled with the unfolding narrative.

Katjana nodded, her eyes reflecting a blend of uncertainty and newfound purpose.

"But where do we even start? How do we unravel something that feels like a tapestry woven by forces beyond our understanding?"

The room echoed with the weight of her words, and I considered the magnitude of our situation. The dreams, the shared memories, and the echoes of a past that had bled into our present begged for exploration.

I suggested, the logical starting point revealing itself.

"We compare notes, piece together the stories we've been telling each other, and see if there are any discrepancies, ciphers, anything.”

As we sat down, Katjana began describing her dreams—the dark room, my entrance, and the tales of gods and destinies. Each word resonated with a familiarity that sent shivers down my spine.

I shared my dreams in turn, recounting the vivid scenes that played out in the realm of shared consciousness. The amalgamation, the connection, and the forbidden love echoed through our descriptions, weaving a narrative that defied the boundaries of our understanding.

As we exchanged details, a pattern emerged—a pattern that hinted at a deeper truth woven into the fabric of our shared dreams. The tapestry of our intertwined destinies, once enigmatic and ethereal, began to reveal its contours.

"We're in this together, Katja. Whatever this is, whatever forces are at play, we navigate it together," I asserted, a commitment forming in the crucible of our shared uncertainty.

With a shared nod, we sank deeper into the dreamscape, determined to decipher the echoes of a past that beckoned us toward an unknown future. The tapestry unfurled, revealing glimpses of a story that transcended time, beckoning us to uncover the secrets that bound us inextricably to one another.

Boundlessness

I wrote this nearly a year ago. Today is 4/27/2021

Do you ever just look back at the last year or so and scratch your head? Like, how in the f*k did they convince the world to social distance, mask up, have no funerals, forcibly homeschool (while still taxing us for public education), stay in our homes, forfeit incomes and personal businesses, snitch on our friends and neighbors, hug grandparents through plastic & thoroughly have us on the verge of civil war with each other.

All to turn around and tell us that most of that is nixed and completely negated if we want to protest, riot, and loot the businesses already on the brink of bankruptcy, destroy our cities, defund our police, set everything on fire, and all the while, we’re allegedly at tremendous risk of a deadly virus that can be diagnosed without official testing- and even though it’s super ‘dangerous,’ the things that keep us healthy (health food/supplement shops, gyms/health facilities, chiropractic centers, many health services/elective medicine, naturopathic health centers, outdoor activities and parks) are taken away, but cigarette/alcohol, fast food joints and Walmarts were deemed “essential”…

How did America the free become a fascist, communist regime, destroying lives and creating dependence so quickly?
Global totalitarianism over a virus?

God Help Us All!

The Land Of The Submissive…

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Cracking The Code: The Art Of Reading People

Boundlessness