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Leaving Pickup

I'm not in the game anymore, and haven't really been in it for a while. If I'm in a nightclub it's because I'm singing karaoke, and as soon as the line gets too long, I'm gone. I've been in relationships ten times as much as I've been single since leaving LA, which means that the only real "sets" I do are the once or twice yearly opens to blow someone's mind.

The standard question I get from any girl I talk to is, "are you doing it to me?"

The answer is, "yeah, probably."

Keeping Death In Mind

On SEBASTIAN MARSHALL

March 10, 2010. Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Late morning.

I pulled on my swim trunks, trainers, and a tank top and walked out of my little guesthouse room, sliding through the cramped restaurant strewn with tables, and out into the hot, dusty air of Phnom Penh. It's a hot day. It'll be good to swim after lifting weights.

I said, "No no, thank you" to the tuk-tuk drivers offering to take me somewhere in the city, pushed through the little crowd, and out onto the street. The streets in Cambodia more resemble alleyways than streets, and I navigate around people and vehicles.

I went down to the end of the street, turned left, and skirted along close to the local restaurants, half-tent half-storefront type places to get food. I stepped into the crosswalk, the Hotel Cambodiana rising in front of me. I check right and then left, and I watch left as I cross, watching for oncoming traffic.

A loud scream rings out. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

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