GoFuckYourself.com - Adult Webmaster Forum - View Single Post - How 10,000 posts can destroy your life -- memoirs of a FLY

TheFLY · 08-20-2003, 01:01 AM

Looking back... Ahh the memories.

I was back in my house, in the back of the house... I loved that old house scent, the green translucent fabric over my windows looking into my yard, and my big ass, old as dirt 18" Dell monitor that's in my closet right now. It seems like yesterday -- just today I listened to a tape I made back then -- most likely just days after I first smoked weed and shaved my head. Boneprone was sending me $.01 clickpic traffic and I got a kick out of waxing my car and carefully parking it in the garage so no sap would get on the paint. I loved that sound the engine made in that tiny garage. I was getting pussy on a regular basis -- the green sofa had no shame. There was always a new face by the fireplace or passed out on the floor. Somehow I still wasn't satisfied. I had no desire to stop. I had no desire to think where I was going. Life was easy and every night someone else served me dinner. After a while I realized I completely ignored the restuarant employees -- just bring me my food and leave me the fuck alone. Fast-forward to Venice Beach California -- white sloping ceiling -- elegant silver fixtures. Ice cold fucking ocean breeze through my room 24/7 -- Fred playing flute. There was something magical about the air, especially in the evening when the fog came in. Everyone was a snob with the exception of a few eccentric leftovers from the 60's that somehow managed to beat the system. Millions of tourists, drug addics, homeless drunks and Buddhists and bored millionaires. My scripts were still plugging away while I was watching street performers and Oliver Klozov was paying me the big bucks. I met his extremely hot models. My first Internext show was a fucking blast. My first lap dance, meeting in person the sexy models I had done business with online, and HUGE parties with girls everywhere. Everything was free and suddenly I had dozens of cool friends that I could have enjoyable conversations with. Dialer war stories and cheese at the Lux. Boneprone was already a celebrity and VIP passes just materialized from thin air... I had a list of cell #'s from my ICQ contact list and finding new friends was as simple as that. I remember calling Platinum Dave and we went back to his room in Treasure Island with the cute Gamma girl that no longer works there... Dave gave me my first cigar and damn it was good. We head out to club Utopia -- LikeWhoa wasn't even a name yet -- it was the "Sexcounter" party. GammaCash got us in past all the lines and Dave is on the dance floor spinning cigar smoke in circles. The drinks were delicious. Wizzo's hair was long... I met SixNine's wife or girlfriend. Then I was stoned. I noticed many new details after that. The major distinction was: Who was in the biz and who was paid to be pretend. My first time in Vegas and filled with awe and horror all at once.

After all that excitement I started posting on GFY. I realized that GFY was my gateway to biz connections, excitement, girls, friends, VIP parties, even fame. My social life in LA was shit -- my best friend was in his 60's and GFY started to become a social outlet. I started the BP4L hotline and website -- it was a huge success. I had some solid friends in Long Beach but it was a long drive. I almost moved to Long Beach where I did nothing but shots of tequila with my friend Pablo, but my instincts told me to move back to Florida. Back in Florida I was bored as fuck. I hooked back up with my old girlfriend a couple of times but it just wasn't the same. I spent days and days just walking and thinking and drinking -- staring at the huge blank walls where I had one newspaper article of the twin towers taped up.

All this time I barely did any work -- the scripts were still running and I began to hate these fucking surfers. I used my first dialer -- Niteline! Finally after months of boredom I fled to Pasadena with a girlfriend that really wasn't that interested in me. It was lovely. Fine dining, cheap wine, secluded parks with horse trails, Jaguar dealerships -- all the smog of luxury. Traffic was a nightmare. We watched lots of television and our relationship was boring. Summer came and we were both back in Florida. Within two weeks I was single again. I was at the pool every day, EVERY DAY! Gorgeous, idiotic sun bathers all around me -- I had a perfect tan and a perfect swimmer's body. By now I was on GFY all the time -- no girlfriend and I still wasn't working. I was living off Bangbus. I moved two more times, then saw I was reaching 10,000 posts... and then... and THEN.

Well, then I decided to kill myself.

08-20-2003, 01:01 AM
TheFLY So Fucking Banned Join Date: Jan 2001 Location: http://www.thefly.net/ --- Quit your job and live off steady traffic. Posts: 11,856	How 10,000 posts can destroy your life -- memoirs of a FLY Looking back... Ahh the memories. I was back in my house, in the back of the house... I loved that old house scent, the green translucent fabric over my windows looking into my yard, and my big ass, old as dirt 18" Dell monitor that's in my closet right now. It seems like yesterday -- just today I listened to a tape I made back then -- most likely just days after I first smoked weed and shaved my head. Boneprone was sending me $.01 clickpic traffic and I got a kick out of waxing my car and carefully parking it in the garage so no sap would get on the paint. I loved that sound the engine made in that tiny garage. I was getting pussy on a regular basis -- the green sofa had no shame. There was always a new face by the fireplace or passed out on the floor. Somehow I still wasn't satisfied. I had no desire to stop. I had no desire to think where I was going. Life was easy and every night someone else served me dinner. After a while I realized I completely ignored the restuarant employees -- just bring me my food and leave me the fuck alone. Fast-forward to Venice Beach California -- white sloping ceiling -- elegant silver fixtures. Ice cold fucking ocean breeze through my room 24/7 -- Fred playing flute. There was something magical about the air, especially in the evening when the fog came in. Everyone was a snob with the exception of a few eccentric leftovers from the 60's that somehow managed to beat the system. Millions of tourists, drug addics, homeless drunks and Buddhists and bored millionaires. My scripts were still plugging away while I was watching street performers and Oliver Klozov was paying me the big bucks. I met his extremely hot models. My first Internext show was a fucking blast. My first lap dance, meeting in person the sexy models I had done business with online, and HUGE parties with girls everywhere. Everything was free and suddenly I had dozens of cool friends that I could have enjoyable conversations with. Dialer war stories and cheese at the Lux. Boneprone was already a celebrity and VIP passes just materialized from thin air... I had a list of cell #'s from my ICQ contact list and finding new friends was as simple as that. I remember calling Platinum Dave and we went back to his room in Treasure Island with the cute Gamma girl that no longer works there... Dave gave me my first cigar and damn it was good. We head out to club Utopia -- LikeWhoa wasn't even a name yet -- it was the "Sexcounter" party. GammaCash got us in past all the lines and Dave is on the dance floor spinning cigar smoke in circles. The drinks were delicious. Wizzo's hair was long... I met SixNine's wife or girlfriend. Then I was stoned. I noticed many new details after that. The major distinction was: Who was in the biz and who was paid to be pretend. My first time in Vegas and filled with awe and horror all at once. After all that excitement I started posting on GFY. I realized that GFY was my gateway to biz connections, excitement, girls, friends, VIP parties, even fame. My social life in LA was shit -- my best friend was in his 60's and GFY started to become a social outlet. I started the BP4L hotline and website -- it was a huge success. I had some solid friends in Long Beach but it was a long drive. I almost moved to Long Beach where I did nothing but shots of tequila with my friend Pablo, but my instincts told me to move back to Florida. Back in Florida I was bored as fuck. I hooked back up with my old girlfriend a couple of times but it just wasn't the same. I spent days and days just walking and thinking and drinking -- staring at the huge blank walls where I had one newspaper article of the twin towers taped up. All this time I barely did any work -- the scripts were still running and I began to hate these fucking surfers. I used my first dialer -- Niteline! Finally after months of boredom I fled to Pasadena with a girlfriend that really wasn't that interested in me. It was lovely. Fine dining, cheap wine, secluded parks with horse trails, Jaguar dealerships -- all the smog of luxury. Traffic was a nightmare. We watched lots of television and our relationship was boring. Summer came and we were both back in Florida. Within two weeks I was single again. I was at the pool every day, EVERY DAY! Gorgeous, idiotic sun bathers all around me -- I had a perfect tan and a perfect swimmer's body. By now I was on GFY all the time -- no girlfriend and I still wasn't working. I was living off Bangbus. I moved two more times, then saw I was reaching 10,000 posts... and then... and THEN. Well, then I decided to kill myself.